Dawn. The Camp.
Grog woke to the sound of the column preparing to move.
Shouted orders. Creaking wagons. The stamp of boots on frozen ground. The thousand small sounds of an army shaking off sleep and getting ready for another day.
He lay still for a moment, taking inventory.
Body: rested. Mind: clear. The red: quiet. Sleeping. Waiting.
The sword pulsed against his hip—a gentle greeting, like a friend saying good morning.
He sat up.
The tent was small, shared with three other soldiers he barely knew. They were already up, already moving, already part of the chaos outside. Grog dressed quickly. Strapped on his sword. Stepped out.
---
The camp was alive.
Soldiers everywhere—packing tents, loading wagons, forming into units. The smell of cooking fires and horse sweat and unwashed bodies. The constant motion of hundreds of people all trying to be somewhere else.
Grog moved through it like water through rocks.
Finding his way. Watching. Always watching.
He found Aldric at the cookfire.
The boy was sitting on his usual log, bowl in hand, looking tired but alert. His new armor gleamed in the morning light—dark metal, perfect fit, the sword at his hip pulsing faintly. He looked like a hero already.
"Morning," Aldric said. "You look better."
"Feel better."
"Good." Aldric gestured at the pot. "Porridge is terrible as always. Eat anyway."
Grog sat. Ate. The porridge was terrible. He ate anyway.
Lira appeared minutes later, looking like she'd been up for hours. Her hair was wild, her cheeks red from cold, her eyes sharp.
"Voren wants us," she said. "All of us. After breakfast."
Aldric frowned. "Why?"
"Didn't say. Just sent word." She grabbed a bowl, scooped porridge, ate standing up. "Probably about the Vargr. They're close now. Half a day, maybe less."
Grog's jaw tightened.
Half a day.
The war was almost here.
---
They found Voren in the command tent.
The captain looked older than Grog remembered. Lines deeper. Eyes harder. The weight of command pressing down on him like a physical thing.
He looked up when they entered. Nodded.
"Close the flap."
Lira did.
Voren waited until they were all inside—Grog, Aldric, Lira, Mirena. His eyes moved over each of them, assessing, measuring.
"The Vargr are half a day east," he said. "Camped in a valley. Waiting."
Aldric frowned. "Waiting for what?"
"That's the question." Voren spread a map on the table. "They're not moving. Not scouting. Not doing anything an army should do. Just... sitting there."
Grog studied the map.
The valley was a good position—defensible, water nearby, escape routes if needed. But Voren was right. Armies didn't just sit. They maneuvered. They prepared. They did something.
Unless they were waiting for something.
Or someone.
"The hunters," Grog said quietly.
Voren looked at him. "The what?"
Grog hesitated. Voren didn't know about the red eyes. About the things that followed them. About Vorlag.
Mirena stepped in smoothly.
"Grog encountered creatures in the forest. Things that served the darkness. They were patient. Watched but didn't act." She met Voren's eyes. "If the Vargr are waiting, it might be for them."
Voren absorbed this.
"Creatures," he repeated. "Serving darkness."
"Yes, sir."
He was quiet for a long moment.
Then: "I don't know what you've gotten yourselves into. Don't think I want to." He looked at each of them. "But I know you're good soldiers. Good people. And right now, I need people I can trust."
Lira straightened. "What do you need, sir?"
Voren tapped the map.
"I need someone to get close to that camp. Find out what they're waiting for. Find out if these 'creatures' are there." He looked at Lira. "You're the best scout I have. Take whoever you need."
Lira nodded. "Grog. Aldric."
Voren raised an eyebrow. "The boy?"
"He's ready."
Aldric's face flickered—surprise, pride, fear. He hid it quickly.
Voren studied him. Then nodded slowly.
"Fine. Take them. Report back by nightfall." He looked at Mirena. "You stay. I have questions about these creatures."
Mirena nodded.
Voren waved them out.
---
They left the tent.
Stood in the morning light, the camp bustling around them.
Lira looked at Grog. At Aldric.
"We move in ten minutes. Gear up."
Aldric swallowed. Nodded.
Grog put a hand on his shoulder.
"You're ready."
Aldric met his eyes.
"I know."
---
Ten minutes later, they were in the forest.
Lira led. Silent as a ghost. Grog followed, watching everything. Aldric brought up the rear, his new sword drawn, his eyes scanning the trees.
The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
No birds. No animals. Just the wind and the crunch of their own footsteps.
Lira held up a hand. Stopped.
Listened.
Then she moved again, angling east.
They followed.
---
An hour passed.
The forest thinned. Rocks replaced trees. The ground sloped upward toward the valley Voren had marked.
Lira found a position—high ground, hidden, with a clear view of the Vargr camp below.
They settled in to watch.
---
The camp was huge.
Hundreds of tents. Thousands of soldiers. Fires burning. Supplies stacked. The ordinary business of an army at rest.
But something was wrong.
The soldiers moved strangely. Slowly. Deliberately. Like they were waiting for something. Like they didn't dare do anything else.
And at the center of the camp—
A tent. Larger than the others. Black. Wrong.
Grog's blood went cold.
"The hunters," he breathed.
Lira looked at him. "They're here?"
"They're always here."
Aldric stared at the black tent. His face was pale, but his hand was steady on his sword.
"We need to get closer," he said.
Lira shook her head. "Too dangerous."
"We need to know what's in that tent."
Lira looked at Grog.
Grog looked at Aldric.
"He's right."
---
They moved.
Lira led them down the slope, using every bit of cover—rocks, trees, shadows. Grog followed, sword ready. Aldric stayed close, his new armor silent, his breathing controlled.
They reached the edge of the camp.
Hidden. Close enough to see faces.
Vargr soldiers everywhere. Bigger than men. Gray-skinned. Armed with axes and swords and cruel-looking spears. They moved with the same wrongness—slow, deliberate, waiting.
Grog's eyes found the black tent.
Figures stood outside it.
Three of them.
Human-shaped. Wrong. Red eyes that glowed even in daylight.
The hunters.
One of them turned. Looked directly at their hiding spot.
Smiled.
---
"Go," Grog said.
They ran.
---
The forest exploded behind them.
Shouts. Howls. The sound of pursuit.
Lira led, weaving through trees, finding paths only she could see. Grog ran beside her, sword out, ready. Aldric kept up, his new gear making him faster than he'd ever been.
They reached the ridge.
Kept running.
The sounds faded behind them.
---
They didn't stop until they reached the column.
Lira doubled over, breathing hard. Aldric leaned against a tree, shaking. Grog stood watch, sword still drawn, eyes on the forest.
"They saw us," Lira gasped. "They knew we were there."
Grog nodded.
"They wanted us to see."
Aldric looked at him. "Why?"
"Because they're patient. Because they want us scared. Because—" Grog stopped.
Because they were playing a game. And they wanted everyone to know it.
---
They reported to Voren.
The captain listened without interrupting. When they finished, he was quiet for a long moment.
"A black tent," he said finally. "Figures with red eyes."
"Yes, sir."
Voren looked at Mirena.
"These creatures. The ones you mentioned."
Mirena nodded. "Servants of the darkness. Patient. Intelligent. They've been following us for years."
Voren absorbed this.
Then he stood.
"We attack at dawn."
Grog blinked. "Sir—"
"If they're waiting, we don't wait." Voren's voice was hard. "We hit them first. Hard. Before whatever they're waiting for arrives."
Lira nodded slowly. "Makes sense."
Aldric looked pale. But he didn't argue.
Grog thought about the hunters. About their smiles. About the way they'd let them go.
This is what they want, he thought. Desperation. Speed. Mistakes.
But he didn't say it.
What would be the point?
---
That night, no one slept.
Soldiers prepared. Weapons sharpened. Armor checked. Prayers whispered to gods who might or might not be listening.
Grog sat with Aldric at the edge of camp.
"You okay?" he asked.
Aldric was quiet for a moment.
"No," he said finally. "But I will be."
Grog nodded.
They sat together, watching the darkness.
Tomorrow, everything changed.