Caleb
At the edge of the courtyard, where Kilian and he had taken shelter only moments ago, a figure stepped into view.
Towering. Black. Silent.
Brutus.
The shadow-elf stood still, almost statuesque, his broad frame outlined by the flickering light of the fires around them. Sunlight broke through the smoke above, catching the glint of blood on his arms — thick and fresh — and dancing along the polished silver of the twin swords gripped tightly in his hands.
Then their eyes met.
Dark. Almost black.Unmoving.
Predatory.
Caleb didn't think — he moved. His body acted before his mind caught up, launching him away from Kori's broken form and diving behind the nearest wall. The second his paws hit the stone, a blur of steel sliced through the space where his head had been.
Too close.
Brutus was already where Kori lay.A shadow, large and looming, beside the body of the fallen chieftain.
Caleb dared a glance. The sight that greeted him turned his veins to ice. Those glowing irises burned like coals, inhuman and cold. Caleb felt his blood freeze, a chill crawling up his spine like icewater.
Those eyes. Burning with that same inhuman glow. There was no rage in them. No satisfaction. Only cold purpose — like violence wasn't a choice but a natural law.
And then Brutus turned his gaze fully on him. Not to strike. Not yet.
Just a look.
Sharp as a blade.Cruel as winter.
Caleb's breath caught.
Then Brutus raised one of his swords. Calmly. Methodically. As if performing a ritual he had practiced a thousand times.
With a smooth, practiced motion, the shadow-elf swung his blade downward in a single, fluid motion.
Clean. Final.
Kori's head fell from his broken body.
"No!" The scream tore from Caleb's chest — but never left his mouth. A hand clamped down over it, cutting off the sound mid-breath. An arm yanked him backward, dragging him away from the scene, away from the horror still unfolding.
He struggled. Clawed. Bit back rage. His body thrashed against the grip holding him — until it loosened for half a second.
He turned to bite whoever it was ——but the figure shook him, firmly, and whispered harshly: "Get a grip, brother. It's no use," Kilian said, gripping his shoulders even tighter. "You can't stop Brutus. We need to go. Kori… Kori was already as good as dead before Brutus got to him. You know that."
His voice trembled with urgency, but his eyes stayed locked on Caleb's — steady, clear, unflinching. He gave him a firm shake, as if to anchor him to the moment.
"We have to go," he repeated, voice sharper now, almost panicked.
Caleb nodded.
He didn't even realize he was doing it.
It felt like something inside him had stepped aside — like someone else had taken over, guiding his limbs, moving his feet. His body moved, but his thoughts… they stayed behind. Still wrapped around Kori. Around the image of that final, lifeless stare.
Together, they scrambled to their feet and took off through the alleys — away from the courtyard, away from the place where their chieftain, their friend, had died.
As they slipped into the war-torn streets once more, Caleb looked back over his shoulder — one last time.
I swear, he thought, I'll do whatever it takes to keep your children safe. And I'll make them pay, Kori. I'll make them pay for what they did to you.
His chest tightened, like something had reached inside and clenched his heart in a brutal fist. The pain was sharp, but not physical.
No blade could've cut this deep.
Kori's final gaze…That empty, flickering stare…It would haunt him. For the rest of his life.
The loss hollowed him out from within — and yet it was the only thing keeping him upright. Grief and rage wove together into a thread that pulled him forward.
Kilian and Caleb darted through the burning veins of the city, weaving between collapsing buildings and fallen comrades. The sounds of battle raged around them — the clash of steel, the roar of fire, the cries of the wounded — but their focus had narrowed to one goal: Find the Gaido children. Protect them.
Every sense sharpened. Every instinct focused.
Somewhere out there, in the wreckage of Wa, two lives still held the hope of salvation.
And they would not let them fall.
They moved like shadows through the ruined streets — weaving past burning buildings and broken stone, ducking beneath collapsed beams and shattered archways. Every step was deliberate. Every sprint calculated. They stuck to the edges, always low, always moving fast.
They couldn't afford to be seen.Not now.
If they wanted to find the Gaido children — and get them out alive — there could be no more fighting. Caleb and Kilian were skilled warriors, but even the strongest fighter was helpless against sheer numbers. And Samael's army… they were everywhere.
Relentless. Endless.
Their path led toward the northern ridge — to the great fortress that had long been the home of the Gaido bloodline. If Koris's son and daughter had survived the first wave, that was where they would be.
Caleb pushed harder, every step driven by urgency.
The boy they were searching for wasn't just anyone.He was Caleb's nakame.His soul-bound brother.
Their bond, formed through an ancient tribal rite, should have guided him. Caleb strained to feel it — that flicker of presence, that gentle pull. But there was only silence.
His chest tightened.Every heartbeat felt like a hummingbird's wings, fast and frantic, barely holding rhythm. The fear dug deeper, coiling around his ribs.
Please… don't let me lose him too.
Then the fortress came into view.
Even from a distance, Caleb could see it was lost.
The once-proud stronghold — center of Gaido leadership and home to the tribe's most sacred ceremonies — was little more than a husk now. Smoke poured from the shattered spires. Flames devoured the towers.
The fortress had been a wonder — built from enchanted ice and Korleon stone, a rare turquoise mineral found only in these lands. Its walls had glowed in the moonlight, laced with twisting vines of frostberry. It had been a symbol of heritage, of pride.
Now, it burned.And all that beauty was dying in smoke and ash.
Cracks split the walls. The frost-magic that once pulsed through the structure had begun to melt away, trickling down in shimmering streams of water, blood, and ruin. The ice of hundreds of water mages was dissolving into the mud.
They had to move quickly.There wouldn't be much left of this place soon.
A few hundred meters from the shattered gate, Caleb spotted something — a collapsed section of the outer wall. Huge slabs of stone and fractured turquoise crystal were piled in a messy heap.
His heart skipped.
Beneath one of the larger blocks, two legs were visible — slender and still.
Caleb's eyes widened in horror. He froze for a split second, then dashed forward.
The stones had crushed part of the path behind them, and sharp edges of shattered Korleon jutted out like broken teeth. Whoever lay beneath had been caught directly in the collapse.
The head — miraculously — had been missed.
Barely.
Dark hair clung to the young man's face, matted with blood and soot. Caleb's breath quickened as he rushed forward. He recognized him instantly.
Without hesitation, he dropped to the ground and began clearing the rubble with desperate speed. Each movement was frantic, but focused. Adrenaline surged through his limbs, lending him strength beyond his usual limits. He heaved aside slabs of stone that should've been too heavy — piece by piece, clearing a path to the figure beneath.
Slowly, the slender body came into view.
A water warrior. A boy.His boy.
With trembling paws, Caleb pulled him free — gently, carefully, as if he might break from the slightest misstep.
Ray.
The name didn't leave his lips, but it rang loud in his chest.
Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them away. Not now, he told himself. Not yet.
He cradled the young man in his arms, his body trembling with shock and fear. Ray felt far too light, like something precious that had already begun to slip away. Caleb's chest tightened. He hadn't known a heart could ache like this — not this deep, not this real.
Ray was barely conscious. His breathing was shallow, fragile. Caleb leaned in and caught the faint, unsteady rhythm of his heart. It was there… but fading.
Bruises bloomed across Ray's limbs in sickening shades of purple and grey. His once-proud uniform — the blue garments of a water warrior — was torn and soaked with blood. Gashes marked his chest and arms, and one wound, jagged and deep, cut across his right cheek. It looked like a demon's cruel smile, carved into his flesh. Caleb brushed away the ash and sticky blood clinging to his friend's face, his paw trembling.
Please, he thought. Stay with me. Just a little longer.
There was no time to hesitate. No time to mourn. If he stayed here, Ray would die.
Kilian appeared beside him, silent but steady, and crouched low. His voice was a whisper, barely carried by the fire-warped air.
"Take a horse," he said, pointing toward a half-collapsed stable just beyond the rubble. "Ride northeast — toward the outer ring. Cross the first stream and wait for me there. If you make it to the Kaitsen homestead… you might still be safe. It's sheltered. They may not have reached it yet."
Caleb looked at him, wide-eyed. "What about—"
"I'll find his sister," Kilian interrupted softly. "And I'll meet you before nightfall."
It was the only plan they had.
Caleb gave a single, pained nod. His paws gripped Ray tighter.
Then the two otters embraced — a quick, desperate hug, born from years of loyalty, forged in battle and memory. Caleb didn't know it yet, but this was the last time he would ever feel Kilian's heartbeat against his own.
The otter slipped into the shadows once more — Ray in his arms, pulling and tugging him along and fire at his back — the promise burned in his mind: I will protect them. I will live. For all of us. Caleb ran.
Kilian would not follow.