Evening. The Human Camp.
The camp had changed.
Grog felt it as he walked through the rows of tents, past the dying fires, between soldiers who moved like ghosts. The mood was different now. Heavier. The kind of weight that came before something terrible.
Word had spread about the meeting.
Soldiers knew now. Not everything—Voren had kept the worst of it quiet. But they knew the black tent was the key. They knew the next attack would be the last. They knew many of them wouldn't come back.
Grog walked slowly.
Watching.
Remembering.
In the old timeline, he'd felt this same weight before the final battle. That horrible certainty that things were about to end, that nothing would ever be the same. He'd been right then. Everyone had died.
This time would be different.
It had to be.
---
He found Aldric at the edge of camp.
The boy sat alone, staring at the valley below. His new armor gleamed in the fading light. His sword rested across his knees, its dark blade pulsing gently.
Grog sat beside him.
"Can't sleep?"
"Would you?"
Grog shook his head.
They sat in silence for a while.
Then Aldric spoke.
"In the old timeline," he said quietly, "did we have a night like this? Before the end?"
Grog thought about it.
"Yes. The night before the final battle. We sat around a fire. Told stories. Laughed." He paused. "You made everyone laugh. Told a joke about a farmer and a donkey. Stupid joke. But we all laughed anyway."
Aldric almost smiled.
"I remember that joke. My father used to tell it."
"It was terrible."
"I know." Aldric's smile faded. "What happened the next day?"
Grog was quiet for a long moment.
"We fought. We won. We thought it was over." He met Aldric's eyes. "Then the hero's eyes turned red."
Aldric absorbed this.
"And then?"
"And then everyone died."
Silence.
Aldric looked at the valley. At the distant fires of the Vargr camp. At the black tent that loomed against the night sky.
"This time is different," he said.
Grog nodded. "Yes."
"How?"
"Because you know. Because we know. Because we have Kevin's knowledge and Kevin's weapons and Kevin's hope." Grog paused. "Because we're not going in blind."
Aldric considered this.
"Will it be enough?"
Grog didn't have an answer.
---
Lira found them an hour later.
She moved silently, as always, appearing out of the darkness like a ghost. Her bow was strung. Her knives were sharp. Her eyes were clear.
"Voren's calling everyone," she said. "Final briefing. Then we move at midnight."
Grog nodded. Stood.
Aldric stood with him.
Lira looked at them both.
"You two ready?"
Aldric met her eyes. "No. But let's go anyway."
Lira almost smiled. Almost.
They walked toward the command tent.
---
The tent was packed.
Every officer. Every squad leader. Every soldier who mattered in the coming fight. They stood shoulder to shoulder, crowded together, waiting for words that would send them into death.
Voren stood at the center.
He looked older than he had this morning. Lines deeper. Eyes darker. The weight of command pressing down like a physical thing that never lifted, never rested, never gave him a moment's peace.
But his voice was steady when he spoke.
"Tomorrow at dawn, we hit them."
Silence.
"No more waiting. No more scouting. No more small attacks." He looked around the tent, meeting eyes. "We're going in with everything. Every soldier. Every weapon. Every bit of strength we have."
A captain spoke up. "And the black tent?"
"We burn it. Whatever's inside dies with it." Voren's voice was hard. "That's the objective. Everything else is secondary."
Another officer. "What about the hunters?"
Voren looked at Grog.
Grog stepped forward.
"Leave them to us."
The officers stared at him. A barbarian. A soldier like them. Promising to fight creatures that had haunted their dreams.
One of them laughed. It wasn't a happy sound.
"You? Alone?"
"Not alone." Grog gestured. "Aldric. Lira. Mirena. That's enough."
More silence.
Then Voren nodded.
"It's enough." He looked at his officers. "Anyone else have questions?"
No one spoke.
"Then get ready. We move at midnight."
The tent emptied.
---
Grog stood outside afterward, watching the camp prepare.
Soldiers checking weapons. Writing letters. Saying quiet words to friends. The ordinary rituals of people facing death.
Aldric appeared beside him.
"Grog."
"Yeah?"
"If I don't make it—"
"You'll make it."
"Listen." Aldric's voice was firm. "If I don't make it, I need you to promise me something."
Grog waited.
"Keep fighting. Close the door. Don't let them win." Aldric met his eyes. "Even if I'm gone. Even if everyone's gone. Don't let them win."
Grog's chest tightened.
"I promise."
Aldric nodded. Walked away.
Grog watched him go.
---
Mirena found him next.
She carried Kevin's journals in a satchel, ready to bring them into battle. Her staff glowed faintly in the darkness.
"I've been reading," she said. "All day. All night. Looking for something—anything—that might help."
"Find anything?"
Mirena hesitated.
"The door," she said. "Kevin wrote about what happens when it opens. Not just Vorlag coming through. Something else. Something he called the 'unmaking.'"
Grog frowned. "Unmaking?"
"A wave. A pulse. It destroys everything it touches. Life. Magic. Hope." Mirena's voice was quiet. "If the door opens fully, if Vorlag comes through—"
"Everyone dies."
"Everyone. Everything. The world becomes what's on the other side."
Grog absorbed this.
"So we can't let it open."
"No." Mirena met his eyes. "We can't."
---
Lira joined them minutes later.
She looked tired—dark circles under her eyes, shoulders slumped with exhaustion. But her gear was ready, her weapons sharp, her eyes clear.
"Voren's moving the troops into position," she said. "We go in an hour."
Grog nodded.
Lira looked at Mirena. At Grog.
"This is it," she said quietly. "After tonight, everything changes."
Mirena nodded.
Grog said nothing.
They stood together in the darkness, three people facing impossible odds, waiting for the moment when everything would begin.
---
An hour passed.
The camp stirred to life. Soldiers forming ranks. Officers giving final orders. The whole machinery of war grinding into motion one last time.
Grog found his place in the formation.
Aldric beside him. Lira ahead. Mirena somewhere in the middle, surrounded by soldiers who'd protect her with their lives.
Voren rode past on his horse. Stopped when he saw Grog.
"Ready?"
Grog nodded.
Voren studied him for a moment.
"Whatever happens tonight," he said quietly, "I'm glad you were here."
He rode on.
Grog watched him go.
The column began to move.
Toward the valley. Toward the Vargr. Toward the black tent.
Toward whatever waited.