The silence began before dawn.
It wasn't a sudden silence, but something that accumulated during the night, as if the very air had grown heavier. When I opened my eyes, still lying down, I realized the camp was different. There were no arguments, no muffled laughter, not even the usual sound of equipment being hastily adjusted. Everything happened far too slowly.
I got up carefully. My body responded better than I expected. There was no sharp pain, just a constant tension, as if every muscle were prepared to react to any wrong stimulus. Outside, I saw Elara sitting on a wooden crate, reviewing maps and notes for the third time. Liriel stood a few steps ahead, watching the horizon with absolute focus. Vespera moved among the groups, silent, analyzing expressions and postures.
"You felt it too?" Vespera asked when I approached.
"I did," I replied. "It's too quiet."
"It's the kind of quiet that comes before something big," she said.
Elara closed one of the maps. "Positions are set. Routes too. There's nothing more we can adjust without causing confusion."
"So this is it," I murmured.
Liriel turned slowly. "Not exactly."
She walked toward us, her gaze steady, but without hardness. "We can still make mistakes mentally. And that's usually worse than making them with a sword."
Later, we sat near the central fire pit, even without any real need for warmth. It was easier to think with something concrete in front of us. People passed by, but avoided interrupting. Most seemed to know that this wasn't an ordinary moment.
"You're calmer than I expected," Elara commented.
"I'm not calm," I replied. "I've just accepted it."
"Accepted what?" Vespera asked.
"That there's no perfect scenario," I said. "There's only what we do when everything begins."
Liriel nodded slowly. "Acceptance isn't weakness. It's clarity."
The day moved on without haste. Light training, just to keep the body active. No heavy simulations. No excessive demands. It was as if everyone knew that any extra effort would be wasted. The battle wouldn't be won before it began.
I walked through the camp in the late afternoon. I watched humans and elves sharing space in a strangely natural way. There was no full trust, but there was no hostility either. Just a silent understanding that no one there would survive alone.
Vespera appeared beside me again. "Funny how alliances work better when there's no choice."
"That's when the illusion of control ends," I replied.
She smiled faintly. "You learned too fast."
When night fell, we gathered the group one last time. Not to plan, but to align expectations. Elara spoke first.
"If something goes wrong, we follow the adjusted protocol. No heroic improvisations."
"That's directed at you," Vespera said, looking at me.
"I know," I replied.
Liriel crossed her arms. "And if someone falls, we don't try to compensate with brute force. We retreat, reorganize, and advance again."
"The General won't give us that time," I murmured.
"Then we use the time we have better," she replied.
We ate together in silence afterward. The food was simple, almost tasteless. Even so, no one complained. It was just fuel. Nothing more than that.
Later, I sat alone for a while, watching the stars. I thought about the retreat. The training. The failures. The adjustments. Everything that had been done to reach that point. There was no certainty of victory. Only enough preparation not to fall immediately.
Elara approached in silence. "You're thinking too much."
"Probably," I replied.
"That's normal," she said. "Just don't let it paralyze you."
Liriel and Vespera joined us shortly after. None of us spoke for a while. The silence returned, but now it was different. It wasn't empty. It was loaded with meaning.
"When this is over," Vespera finally said, "we won't be the same people."
"I know," I replied.
Liriel closed her eyes for a moment. "But if we survive, at least it will be because we chose to move forward together."
I looked at the camp one last time before lying down. There was nothing left to adjust. No pending debt. No postponed decision.
The silence before the advance wasn't peace.
It was just the world holding its breath.