Aaron moved through the cavern with measured steps, a single short sword drawn, his breath steady but shallow. The Saintesses followed close behind, their presence a weight at his back, an unease that prickled between his shoulder blades. Not exposing his back to strangers, regardless of their proclaimed allegiance, was an instinct he had yet to unlearn. The responsibility for their safety was a burden he wasn’t sure he was ready to bear.

  More than that, after so long operating alone, either as a silent observer or as his sole counsel, he was unaccustomed to leading others.

  A firm hand pressed against his chest, halting him mid-step. He turned, meeting Magda’s admonishing gaze.

  “Between that mask, which I suspect doesn’t offer the best visibility, and your heavy steps, perhaps you’re not the best choice for scouting?” she whispered, voice light but pointed. She gestured downward, drawing his attention to something he would have missed entirely, a tripwire, his foot hovering just a breath from triggering it.

  Aaron followed the cable, spotting the mechanism above, rows of bolts, primed to rain down at the slightest disturbance. He exhaled sharply, lips pressing into a thin line.

  Magda was right. He had never been a scout. His strengths lay elsewhere, and if he recalled correctly, Magda’s early investments into Sainthood had focused on insight and perception.

  Still, the thought of putting her ahead, exposing her to danger after only just reuniting, caused his grip to practically strangle his sword hilt.

  “I’ll be fine.” She rolled her eyes at his hesitation, then pinched at the air just above her skin. A thin, elastic layer shimmered into view, coating her ballgown-dressed figure. It stretched taut between her fingers as she pinched and pulled at it before snapping back into invisibility. Mage armour, one of her many arcane tricks.

  It took Aaron longer than he would have liked to admit before he finally nodded, stepping aside.

  Magda gestured, and the tripwire glowed violet for all to see. With Aaron now trailing a pace behind her, they moved through the wide cavern corridors, their odd mix of ancient carved brick and roughly hewn stone lending an unsettling, half-forgotten quality to the place. Lacquered torches burned low in their sconces, their dim light doing little to push back the dust-heavy gloom. Skylights, placed at irregular intervals, spilled pale beams of light from a distant, foreboding sky, casting long, broken shadows against the walls.

  They passed door after door, pausing at each threshold before stepping inside, only to find tattered remnants of old barracks, long abandoned. Dust-caked bunks, shattered furniture, rusting weapons left to decay where they had been discarded. The occasional skeleton, half-buried in debris, a splatter of old blood smeared across stone. Scurrying rats, the only sign of life.

  Through it all, distant sounds chased them. Footsteps, the rhythmic pounding of boots, their echoes too unpredictable to pinpoint. The sound warped, bouncing from the stone in ways that made it impossible to tell how numerous their owners really were.

  Meanwhile, Magda continued marking out tripwires, pressure plates, and deadfall traps, almost none of which Aaron would have spotted before blundering into them. It was an embarrassing oversight. He had spent years preparing for this second life, ensuring he knew every necessary field while honing his powers of observation to the peak of human ability. Yet his ability in trap detection had clearly been lacking. He knew he couldn’t master everything, but he had at least expected to be proficient in the basics of survival.

  Beside him, Cassandra moved with a stately grace, she was tense but overall observant. Her sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, her mind actively learning with each step. She wasn’t as experienced as Magda, but she adapted quickly.

  Meanwhile, Debryn, clad in her sleek black bodysuit, trailed behind them in rear guard. Her footfalls were silent, her large fox tail adjusting for balance with each step in a way that suggested extreme acrobatic grace. Even Aaron, trained in tracking movement beyond his peripheral vision, found it difficult to track her unless he had his eyes on her.

  Magda stopped.

  “What is it?” he asked, watching as she stared into an otherwise empty room.

  Without answering, she stepped inside, drawn toward an aged wooden desk littered with scrolls and journals.

  “My helper’s fee,” she answered absently, running her fingers over the worn leather covers.

  “What do you intend to do?” Cassandra asked as they stepped into the chamber, her voice sharp with caution.

  The room was small, no more than five yards across, its rough-hewn walls bathed in the dim glow of daylight filtering through a dusty, red-tinged sky. It was warmer here, lived in, and recently used. The realisation sent an uneasy prickle down Aaron’s spine.

  “Mister Hueber, dear,” Magda drawled, already rifling through scattered documents. “Would you be so kind as to store these in your ring? Please and thank you.” Without waiting for a reply, she pressed bound books, scrolls, and loose-leaf journals into his hands.

  Aaron complied wordlessly, slipping them into his ring, his focus shifting as Debryn took a step closer to the far wall.

  “Wait. Cassie, doesn’t this look familiar?” The redheaded kitsune’s golden eyes were locked on a sprawling map that took up most of the space.

  Cassandra stilled. “What?” Her voice was distant, her posture suddenly rigid.

  Aaron turned his attention to the chart. At first glance, it was a standard topographical map, territory lines, rivers, roads. But something about it felt off. Magda, sensing the shift in urgency, abandoned her rummaging and joined them.

  Cassandra pointed at several locations marked in bold black script. “What does this writing say?”

  His near-photographic memory was struggling to parse the language. “Dates… and names?” His uncertainty lingered in the words.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Yes.” Magda confirmed, eyes narrowing as she read deeper.

  Cassandra’s gaze snapped to her. “What dates? What names?”

  Magda’s violet eyes flicked across the markings, absorbing the information in seconds. Her lips parted slightly. “The day after tomorrow.”

  Aaron’s frown deepened. His knowledge of Isyndrael’s invasion was fragmented, most records had been destroyed, the truth buried beneath the fog of war. What little he did know came from scattered accounts and after-action reports filled with speculation.

  Cassandra’s fingers tightened against the map’s edge. “The day after tomorrow,” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “These are the first targets.”

  Aaron followed her line of sight, eyes sweeping over the inked markings. They weren’t random. Each name corresponded to settlements, outposts, and strongholds. He could see the pattern now, strategic locations, key points of resistance chosen with precision.

  “They know exactly where to strike,” he said grimly.

  Debryn’s tail, agitation evident in the tension coiled within her stance. “That doesn’t give us a lot of time.”

  Magda hummed, tapping her lip, eyes flicking between symbols and notes. “No, it doesn’t. And this isn’t just a battle plan, it’s a timetable.”

  Cassandra turned sharply. “Explain.”

  Magda traced a finger along the map. “Each set of markings, dates, locations, troop estimates, they’re staggered. This isn’t a single coordinated assault. It’s a rolling offensive.”

  Aaron watched as a flicker of something close to despair crossed Cassandra’s gaze before she mastered it. “If this is accurate, my people still have time to prepare. If we can get this information to them, ”

  “If you could get them to listen,” Magda interjected. “And if you believe them capable of acting in time.”

  Aaron exhaled. “That’s not the only problem.” His eyes flicked to the journals, the scrawled calculations, the sheer level of planning. “If their modus operandi remains the same, this will be preceded by decapitation strikes.”

  “Targeting leaders. Ascended.” Magda added.

  Aaron nodded. “They’ll be the first to fall.”

  Cassandra’s expression flickered with something he hadn’t seen before, raw fear.

  “It’s her sister,” Debryn whispered. “She reigns as Queen in Isyndor.”

  Magda flipped open one of the books, skimming pages with unnatural speed. “It’s not just rulers. They’re targeting scholars, war-mages, governance officials. Anyone who could organise a resistance.”

  Cassandra’s grip on the table was white-knuckled, her voice hard. “Then we have to stop it.”

  Aaron nodded. “We will. But first, we need to find the person we came here for, otherwise, we won’t be getting anywhere else, anytime soon.”

  Magda continued her work, sweeping books and journals into Aaron’s Ring of Holding while Cassandra carefully peeled the map from the wall. Debryn stood by the door, fox ears twitching, her stance poised, tail flicking in mild agitation as she stood in watch.

  “Done?” Aaron asked.

  “Yes.” Magda dusted off her hands.

  “I’ve found a map, I think it’s for this facility,” Cassandra called.

  Aaron stepped over, scanning the parchment. It was old, the ink faded in places, but still legible. “Where do you think we are?”

  “Here, I suspect.” Magda pointed to a junction marked with symbols Aaron couldn’t decipher. “This is the path from the teleportation beacon. And…” Magda closed her eyes, head tilting slightly before turning with unnerving certainty. “This is where we need to go.” She tapped a location deeper within the complex. “A ritual room, where they intercepted the Saint. If we’re lucky, we’ll find out how they managed it.”

  “And stop it from happening again.” Aaron nodded. “Let’s move.”

  “Do you hear that?” Debryn’s ears twitched, shifting as she pinpointed the source. “They’re getting close, and fast.”

  “Here.” Aaron pointed towards an empty room and moved, the group following. They pressed themselves against the wall beside the doorway, concealed from sight as the approaching demons filled the corridor.

  Aaron listened. The demons were loud, grunting, muttering in their guttural tongue, their ill-disciplined movements betraying their sense of security. They weren’t expecting a threat.

  He unsheathed his second blade, lowering his stance, muscles coiling in preparation for a decisive first strike. His blood roared in his veins, and his breathing deepened. Intent seeped into the steel, the silent hum of Sword Intent manifesting just beneath the edges of the blades.

  A demon slowed. Aaron stilled.

  It had caught something, a scent, a sound out of place, or perhaps some innate sense had triggered its suspicion. Its heavy boots stopped at the threshold, its porcine snout sniffing at the air. A thick-fingered hand gripped the doorway.

  Aaron held his breath. Debryn silently raised her crossbow.

  The demon lingered, poised to step inside. For a long, agonising moment, Aaron could see the tension in its posture, the weight of uncertainty as it hovered between instinct and complacency.

  Then, it exhaled a rough snort, releasing its grip. Its curiosity satisfied.

  With a grunt, it moved on.

  Silence stretched in its wake. No one moved. For long moments, it felt as though they couldn't even breathe, listening as the sounds of the patrol faded into the distance.

  Aaron exhaled slowly, his shoulders loosening. He glanced at Magda. “If you’d please?”

  With a smirk, she eased back into the shadows, resuming her scouting duties.

  “Wait.” Magda’s voice cut through their focus. Her usual playfulness was gone, drained by long minutes of stress and concentration. The group halted. Aaron didn’t question it. If Magda had noticed something, it was likely important enough to warrant a deviation from the plan.

  She closed her eyes, tilting her face upward as if lost in a daydream. Seconds passed. Then, her violet eyes flicked open, and a deep frown settled across her face.

  Aaron waited. He finally asked, “What is it?”

  Magda’s gaze flicked to him, something unreadable in her expression. “Do you trust me?”

  “With my life.” His answer was immediate.

  For the briefest moment, a rueful smile softened her face, like a sliver of sunshine breaking through overcast skies.

  “You! We’ll talk about that later,” she whisper shouted, her voice tight. “I need to do something.”

  “Then we do it together.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “This whole place is a ritual. They planned to use two Saints to breach the walls between realms,” casting a glance at Cassandra, “but I think they’re summoning something worse. If I don’t stop this… if we don’t attack from both ends at the same time, we all fail.”

  Aaron’s grip tightened on his sword. Behind the mask, his expression was unreadable, but Magda still searched his face as if trying to memorise him. He wanted to tell her that no Saint was worth more than her. That leaving her wasn’t an option, that the universe could burn as long as she was at his side.

  Instead, he nodded, unable to speak past the lump in his throat.

  “Thank you.” Magda exhaled, “When you get started, I’m sure it’ll cause a commotion, it’s then that I’ll begin. You’re not far away from what you are looking for, and there haven’t been traps for a while, but have the kitsune scout ahead, just in case.”

  She patted the padded armour on his chest, her mercurial smile the last thing he saw before she turned and sprinted down a corridor, veering away from their path.

  Minimum 3 chapters next week.