(Caelum Thorne's Point of View)
The moon hung high, bloated and pale. It offered no comfort, only witness to the shame we buried beneath our polished armor.
We'd failed.
The fires from Rin's midnight raid still smoldered on the eastern ridge. Horses were skittish, and soldiers shuffled in silence, too exhausted to shout, too proud to mourn. I moved through the field, listening, not to orders or reports, but to breath, to weariness, to what wasn't being said.
My army was fraying.
"We have to retaliate!" growled Brant, slamming his fist on the map table. "Strike their forward camp. Burn it to the ground."
"No", I said. "That's what she wants. For us to bleed out chasing shadows."
"Then what?" Viera snapped. "We sit on the ashes of our bread?"
I met her gaze. "We bait the spider."
The tent quieted.
"She's predictable", I continued. "Not by pattern, but by principle. She doesn't attack unless the reward outweighs the risk. So, we feed her a reward too rich to ignore."
Brant frowned. "You mean… a trap?"
"A fortress convoy", I said. "Loaded with supply carts. Open guards, no visible spellcasters. A gift-wrapped opportunity."
"But hidden within, our best mages, tacticians, and shadow units", Viera finished, eyes widening. "We ambush her ambushers."
"She's not likely to be there herself", Jarek muttered, stroking his beard.
"She won't", I said. "But her people will. And they'll carry her trust. And if we're lucky, one of them will bleed enough to give us what we need..."
"...a crack in her armor", Brant said.
Later, I walked the edges of the camp, where the newer recruits sat staring into dying coals. They didn't talk of victory anymore. They talked about her.
"I heard she once saved a village before turning on it", one said.
"No, she used to be human", another whispered. "Then she died and the demon king rebuilt her."
I stopped nearby, crouching by the fire.
"None of that's true", I said softly. "She didn't die. She survived."
They blinked, startled.
"Survived what?" asked one of them, a fresh-faced boy barely past seventeen.
"Everything we wouldn't", I said. "Betrayal. Abandonment. The kind of hunger that eats you from the inside out."
They were silent for a moment. Then one asked the question I feared more than any...
"Then why are we fighting her?"
I didn't have an answer.
(Later that night…)
Alone in my tent again, I pulled a battered pendant from my pouch, an old silver wolf, its eyes made of moonstone. My father's.
He'd forged his reputation on righteousness. But righteousness, without understanding, is just cruelty in disguise. He taught me to fight with honor… but he never taught me what to do when honor left the battlefield.
Ayaka Rin didn't abandon humanity.
Humanity abandoned her.
And now we were left with the consequence.
A soft voice broke the silence. Viera stepped into the tent, arms crossed.
"You're too quiet when you're thinking", she said.
"I was reflecting", I said. "Trying to remember when we stopped being defenders and started being pawns."
She sat beside me. "We didn't stop. We just forgot the board changed."
I offered her a bitter smile. "Do you think we can win?"
"Against Rin?" Viera tilted her head. "Only if she lets us."
That stung. Because it felt true.
But I shook my head. "Then we give her a reason to slip. A personal one."
Viera raised a brow. "Personal?"
I nodded. "She once saved my life. Years ago. She wouldn't remember, it was nothing. But I remember. Because in that moment, she wasn't a monster yet. She was just… tired."
"And now?"
"Now", I said, "I intend to tire her out again."