The gate loomed over them.
It rose from the canyon floor like a wall against the sky, a towering slab of stone and iron wedged between the mountain peaks. Even at nearly a hundred meters tall, it still failed to reach the jagged summits above, leaving sheer cliff faces climbing into darkness on either side. Torchlight crawled along the surface of the gate, revealing deep grooves, reinforcing bands, and layers of stone thick enough to swallow siege fire.
As they approached, the rumble of movement grew louder.
The guards posted at the entrance straightened. Their armour bore the markings of the mountain garrisons—thicker, heavier, built for holding ground rather than marching. One of them lifted a gauntleted fist.
"Halt."
Myna stepped forward without hesitation. "Captain Myna. Evacuation escort from the upper encampment."
The guard's eyes flicked over the group—lingering briefly on Ryan and Eleanor—before settling back on Myna. Recognition passed across his face. He nodded once and signaled to the others.
The gate began to open.
Stone groaned against stone as mechanisms hidden within the walls dragged the massive doors inward. The sound echoed through the canyon like distant thunder. Cold air rushed out, carrying with it the smell of oil, smoke, and packed humanity.
They passed through.
Inside, the scale of the fortress became clear.
The canyon stretched far ahead, its length completely transformed into a killing ground. The area was open to the elements, lined with barricades, stacked crates, and defensive emplacements. Tens of thousands of people filled the space—soldiers, medics, engineers, runners—moving in controlled chaos beneath rows of torches and lanterns hanging off of posts.
Above them, the mountain itself watched.
On both sides of the canyon, narrow slits were carved into the stone walls, barely visible unless you knew where to look. Behind each slit waited soldiers, crossbows and spellcasters poised, their firing angles covering every inch of the passage below. Anyone who forced their way through the gate would be slaughtered long before reaching the inner fortress.
Ryan felt a chill run through him.
Probably because it was bloody freezing.
Myna slowed and scanned the crowd before spotting an officer near a raised command platform. His uniform was sharper than most, marked with silver trim and the insignia of fortress command. She approached him directly.
"Commander," she said. "I need a couple of rooms for my team. Just for the night."
The man turned, irritation already on his face—until he saw her insignia.
He exhaled through his nose. "You picked a bad time, Captain. We're over capacity."
"We'll be gone at first light," Myna replied evenly. "Non-combatants included."
The officer glanced past her, taking in Ryan, Eleanor, and Ben. His jaw tightened. "You'll be out before sunrise," he said. "Reinforcements from the northern passes arrive tomorrow. We'll need every spare inch."
"That's fine," Myna said. "We won't be in your way."
"Sergeant," the officer called, gesturing sharply.
A soldier detached from nearby and jogged over. "Yes, sir?"
"Guide them to two rooms on level three in East side. And make it snappy, I need you back."
The sergeant nodded. "This way."
They followed him deeper into the canyon.
As they moved, Ryan couldn't help but notice how everything here was built with purpose. Crates of arrows stacked shoulder-high. Spare shields leaned against stone walls. Ropes, pulleys, and reinforcement beams ready to be dragged into place at a moment's notice.
Ben walked quietly now, his earlier energy gone. He kept his eyes forward, hands clenched at his sides.
The sergeant led them toward a carved passage branching off the main canyon into the side of one of the peaks, the noise of the fortress dulling slightly as they went through.
As they passed beneath another arch of stone, Ryan glanced back once, toward the distant gate.
The fortress stood ready.
And somewhere beyond it, hundreds of thousands of Elves, Dwarves and Giants were marching.
"Rooms aren't pretty," he said over his shoulder. "But the beds aren't half bad."
Myna nodded. "That's all we need."
The sergeant led them to a stairwell cut directly into the rock, its steps worn smooth by countless boots. The air grew colder as they descended, the sounds of the canyon above fading into an unintelligible murmur.
They passed soldiers climbing the opposite way—some hauling crates, others moving with the tired efficiency of men who had already done this too many times. Shoulders brushed, muttered apologies exchanged, then the stairwell opened into a wide junction.
"Level three," the sergeant said.
Four corridors branched outward, each disappearing into torchlit darkness.
The sergeant didn't slow. He turned down the eastern passage, boots echoing sharply against the stone floor. The corridor stretched on far longer than Ryan expected, its walls bare rock, roughly carved but solid. Doors lined both sides at regular intervals, each marked with a simple metal plate and a number etched deep enough to last centuries.
He stopped at last and pointed to two doors directly opposite one another.
"Here. And here," he said. "You've got the night. Don't wander."
Myna nodded. "Understood."
The sergeant didn't wait for thanks. He turned and headed back the way they'd come, footsteps quickly swallowed by the corridor's length.
For a moment, the group simply stood there.
"Alright," Myna said. "Ryan. Eleanor. Micah—you're in this one."
She gestured to the door on the left.
"Richard, Gerald, Ben—you're with me."
Ben nodded, already moving toward the opposite door. Gerald followed without a word, his presence nearly unnoticeable.
Ryan pushed the door open.
The room beyond was… spartan.
Several wooden-framed bunk beds lined the walls, heavy blankets folded with military precision. Two narrow tables sat bolted to the floor, their surfaces scarred by years of use. The walls were raw stone, unadorned seldom a single unlit torch—which Micah quickly changed.
Ryan took it in and nodded thoughtfully.
"Well," he thought, the they hadn't wasted time on decoration.
Eleanor snorted softly beside him, as if she'd heard his thought.
Micah set his pack down with a dull thud and immediately claimed the nearest bunk. "I've slept in way worse places," he said, already unbuckling his gear.
Across the corridor, Myna ushered her group into the opposite room, closing the door behind them with a firm click.
For the first time since they'd entered the fortress, the bustling noise faded almost entirely.
Ryan lay his bag down, climbed onto the top bunk and slipped under the blanket.