Kaelion stands motionless, jaw tight. His cloak flutters in the northern wind. Around him, his men wait—tired, injured, hungry. The silence between both sides grows sharper than blades.
Then, without warning, the gate creaks wider.
One figure steps through—Rhagor Velmire, bow in hand, a single arrow already drawn. His face is unreadable.
"If you're planning to force your way in," he says calmly, "then, let's see how far you can get."
Kaelion narrows his eyes. His hand drops to the hilt of his sword.
A pulse of light erupts.
In a blink, Kaelion vanishes—reappearing behind Rhagor in a burst of golden shimmer. His blade comes down in a clean arc, glowing with Light Magic. Its a property of light magic where he can create illusions with the light and confuse his enemy or ambush them.
But as veteran warrior, Rhagor moves like water.
He twists aside, cloak flaring, narrowly avoiding the blade. His foot shifts, knee drops—and he launches backward just as Kaelion slashes again.
CLANG—! Steel hits stone.
This time Rhagor doesn't respond with a weapon, instead he fires an arrow mid-dodge, its head etched with a pale rune.
Kaelion shifts his sword to deflect—
but its too late. The arrow grazes his shoulder. Magic sparks over his body.
Paralysis spell.
Kaelion staggers—not collapsed, but slowed. His muscles stiffen as his magic flickers.
"What was—"
Rhagor lands ten feet away, already nocking another arrow. His eyes are grim.
"Non-lethal. You're lucky."
Kaelion raises his sword again—
But then:
"Agh—!"
A pained cry cuts through the air. From behind, one of his wounded soldiers collapses, writhing, blood spilling from a reopened wound.
Kaelion freezes.
He turns halfway, eyes wide at the sight.
"Merek…!"
The soldier groans weakly from the ground. Eiren, his trusted aide rushes to his side, pressing cloth against the wound.
Kaelion lowers his sword.
He calms himself down and , he turns back to Rhagor.
"…Can you treat the wounded?" he asks, voice flat.
Rhagor doesn't lower his bow. Even though the opposing group maybe rogue but there is a chance that what they're saying is true too. If they are soldiers of empire and if one of them dies then its going to be a big trouble. Rhagor hesitates a bit and agrees to the condition.
"They'll be tended. Just enough to not die."
A long pause. Kaelion clenches his fist, then exhales.
"Then we'll cooperate. Take us in."
Rhagor raises his hand. The gates creak wider behind him.
"You'll all be disarmed. And processed. Remember, this isn't a shelter. It's custody."
Kaelion nods once with a smirk.
Behind him, the soldiers begin to stir, slowly rising. The Light Mage turns to Lieutenant Merek, still pale, and gestures to Eiren to carry him first.
As they start moving, Eiren walks beside Kaelion. She speaks low.
"You are too used to people listening when u speak, I am surprised you backed down there."
Kaelion doesn't respond.
But Eiren gives a faint smile as she responds with,
"Maybe you've finally met your match, commander"
Kaelion's lips twitch.
Somewhere Far South – The Imperial Palace, Capital of Valedorn
Golden banners stir in the wind outside the Ivory Wing, where nobles, councilors, and mages walk in embroidered silence. Deep within one of the tower rooms, Serenya Valen, daughter of the Imperial Consort, sits at her desk.
She holds a folded letter in her lap.
"I'll return in two months. Sooner, if things go smoothly. Dont worry about me and take care
—Kaelion."
But it's been three months.
She hasn't heard a word from him ever since.
Her hands tremble slightly as she smooths the paper. On her desk lie seven unopened missives from generals and advisors—none contain news of the Third Legion.
Her heart is heavy with fear, but it's not just worry.
There's a letter bearing the Emperor's seal sitting beside her teacup. It arrived that morning. Its contents still hidden.
She hasn't opened it.
Why now? Why after all this silence?
Her mind spins with implications—was the Emperor recalling Kaelion? Reassigning him? Or worse—punishing him?
Then—
The magic device on her wall pulses softly.
A humming blue light.
She snaps her head toward it.
A message stone… active?
She stands instantly, breath catching, and rushes toward it. The rune-lined sphere begins glowing stronger. It's faint, distorted by distance, but recognizable:
Kaelion's mana signature, but its really faint.
Her hand hovers above the activation crystal.
"He's alive…"
But the moment holds heavy in her chest.Alive—but why now? And in what state?
She doesnt waste time as she rushes out to the imperial headquaters to track the signal and send a rescue team.
Within the Walls
Kaelion sits in a holding barrack. His cloak is folded beside him. His shoulder aches where the arrow hit. The paralysis has faded, mostly.
Outside, soldiers walk past with bundles of gear—his men's weapons are tagged and recorded.
He stares at the message stone in his hand. The one he used to signal the capital. The same one that now sends a trace of his life to her.
"You'll know I'm alive. That's enough—for now."
On the Wall
Rhagor leans back against the stone, arms folded. Thalia approaches behind him.
"They're secured."
"Good."
He reaches into his coat. Pulls out a folded letter. The parchment is worn at the edges.
He reads the last line again.
"You're not a soldier anymore. You're a husband and a father."
His grip tightens.
But his eyes stay on the field beyond the wall—where Light still lingers in the dust.