That Night
Aldric didn't sleep.
He lay in his tent, staring at the canvas above, his mind churning through everything Grog had told him. The stone. The watching. The thing inside him since childhood. The choice that waited years in the future.
Twenty-five years, Grog had said.
Twenty-five years until everything ended.
It felt like tomorrow.
There's something inside you. Has been since you were seven.
He'd known, hadn't he? Somewhere deep. Some part of him had always known. The dreams he couldn't remember. The forgotten hours. The way shadows seemed deeper than they should be, sometimes, when he looked too long.
It felt like a friend. The only one I had.
That was the worst part.
Because it had felt like a friend. In the darkness after his mother died, when the world went quiet and cold and nothing made sense—that voice had been there. Soft. Comforting. Promising things would get better.
I just had to trust it. When the time came.
Aldric closed his eyes.
Opened them.
Still couldn't sleep.
---
He rose sometime after midnight.
His tentmates didn't stir. The camp was silent, buried in snow and shadow. His feet carried him forward without thought, past sleeping tents and cold firepits, toward the edge of camp where the trees began.
He didn't plan to go there.
He just... went.
The tree line loomed ahead. Dark. Ancient. Full of things that couldn't be seen.
Aldric stopped at the edge.
Breathed.
Waited.
They came out of the darkness like they'd always been there. Three figures. Human-shaped. Wrong in ways he couldn't name. Their eyes caught the starlight—red, burning, fixed on him.
Aldric's heart hammered. His hand went to his sword.
But he didn't run.
Didn't call for help.
Just stood there, looking at them, waiting to see what they would do.
They did nothing.
Just watched.
One of them—the same one who'd smiled at Grog, though Aldric didn't know that—tilted its head. Studied him like a curious animal.
Then it spoke.
"You know now."
The voice was wrong. Too many layers. Like multiple people speaking at once, slightly out of sync.
Aldric's grip tightened on his sword. "Who are you?"
"We are what serves. What waits. What watches." A pause. "What will be there when you call."
"I won't call."
The smile. Too wide. Too white.
"You will. When the moment comes. When your friends are dying and nothing you do can save them." The red eyes burned brighter. "You'll call. You've always called. And we'll answer."
Aldric's blood went cold.
But he didn't back down.
"If you know so much," he said quietly, "then you know I have twenty-five years. Twenty-five years to get stronger. Twenty-five years to find another way."
The smile widened.
"Yes. Twenty-five years." The figure tilted its head further—too far, like its neck shouldn't bend that way. "Twenty-five years to watch your friends grow closer. To love them more. To make their loss unbearable." A pause. "Every day you spend with them makes our victory sweeter. Every laugh. Every memory. Every moment of happiness."
Aldric's chest tightened.
"It's not a trap you can avoid," the figure continued. "It's a trap you set yourself. Every time you care. Every time you let someone in. You're building the chains that will bind you to us."
"Then I'll stop caring."
The laughter was soft. Almost pitying.
"You can't. It's who you are. It's why we chose you." The red eyes seemed to glow brighter. "A hero who loves too much. A boy who would do anything to save his friends. You're perfect. You always were."
Aldric stood at the edge of the forest, facing three nightmares, and felt something shift inside him.
Not fear.
Not despair.
Something else.
They're trying to scare me, he realized. They're trying to make me give up before I even start.
Why would they do that if they were sure?
He thought about Grog. About the stone. About twenty-five years of training and preparing and hoping.
They weren't sure.
They couldn't be sure.
If they were sure, they wouldn't be here, talking to him in the dark, trying to plant doubt.
"You're scared," Aldric said quietly.
The smile vanished.
"I can see it," he continued. "You've been waiting centuries. You've planned everything. But you didn't plan on us. On friends who'd fight for each other. On people who'd tell the truth, even when it hurt." He met those red eyes. "You're scared we might actually win."
Silence.
The three figures stood motionless.
Then, slowly, the one who'd spoken tilted its head again. This time, the gesture was different. Less curious. More... assessing.
"You're braver than we thought," it said quietly. "That's good. Bravery makes the breaking sweeter."
It stepped back.
"We'll watch. We'll wait. And when the time comes—" Those red eyes fixed on Aldric one last time. "We'll be there. In the moment of your greatest need. Offering everything you want. Everything you need. Everything you can't resist."
The figures melted into darkness.
Aldric stood alone at the edge of the forest.
His heart pounded. His hands shook. His sword was still in his grip, though he didn't remember drawing it.
But beneath the fear, beneath the trembling, something else burned.
They're scared.
They actually showed themselves. Talked to me. Tried to make me doubt.
That means there's something to doubt.
He turned away from the trees. Walked back toward camp.
Toward Grog. Toward Lira. Toward Mirena.
Toward the people who'd lied to him, yes—but who'd lied because they were trying to save him.
He'd deal with the hurt later.
Right now, he had something to tell them.
---
Grog was awake when Aldric found him.
Sitting outside his tent, axe across his knees, watching the darkness like he'd been doing it all night.
He looked up when Aldric approached. His face didn't change, but something in his eyes sharpened.
"You saw them."
It wasn't a question.
Aldric nodded. Sat down beside him.
"They talked to me."
Grog waited.
"They said I'm perfect for them. Because I love too much. Because I'd do anything to save my friends." Aldric's voice was quiet. "They said every happy moment I have makes their victory sweeter. Because losing will hurt more."
Grog's jaw tightened.
"But I saw something," Aldric continued. "In their eyes. When I called them scared." He looked at Grog. "They didn't like that. They really didn't like that."
Grog met his gaze.
"You called them scared?"
"Yes. And they—" Aldric frowned, trying to find words. "They went still. Not angry. Not threatening. Just... still. Like I'd said something they hadn't expected."
Grog was quiet for a moment.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"Good."
Aldric blinked. "Good?"
"Good that you saw it. Good that you said it. Good that you came back here instead of running." Grog's voice was rough. "That's how we win. Not by being stronger. Not by being smarter. By being together. By making them doubt."
Aldric sat with that.
"I'm still angry," he said after a while. "That you didn't tell me sooner."
"I know."
"But I get it. Kind of." He looked at the trees. "I don't know if I could have handled this at sixteen. Knowing something was inside me. Watching. Waiting."
Grog said nothing.
Aldric was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "What do we do now?"
Grog looked at him. At this boy who'd just faced three nightmares and come back talking about doubt and winning.
"We train," he said. "We get stronger. We learn everything we can. We watch each other's backs." A pause. "And we don't let them win the waiting game."
Aldric nodded slowly.
"Twenty-five years," he said.
"Twenty-five years."
They sat together in the darkness, watching the tree line, waiting for red eyes that didn't reappear.
Morning came eventually.
And they were still there.
Still together.
Still fighting.