OBSIDIAN RIFT

The first Ruaka advanced slowly. One of the dogs lunged at it, barking with the ferocity of an animal that knew it was greatly outmatched but didn't care. The demon barely acknowledged the fearless canine before it snapped its jaws down, crushing both bone and fur in one nauseating crunch. Its painful yelp cut short.

The second dog retreated in terror, tail tucked between its legs. It fled back into the settlement, paws digging into the dirt. As soon as it bolted, three other Ruakas lunged forward, rattling eerily as they dashed after it with powerful thuds.

But Selenna didn't move, she couldn't move.

Her eyes were locked on the first Ruaka—the first one that had breached the dome. The hardened resin-scab of an old wound cut across its monstrous face.

She recognized that wound, the way it curved below the Ruaka's jaw. That thing had been there before.

A forceful yank on her arm dragged her back to reality. Garvan's grip was firm as he pulled her behind a house, barely suppressing his panic as he growled. "What the hell are you doing?"

The settlement exploded into chaos as screams broke out from homes and doors jammed shut. The spine-chilling clicking of the Ruakas filled the air as they lunged erratically onto houses, their long claws scraping on rooftops, the wood splintering under their weight.

But Selenna's mind was dragged back into the past regardless of the pandemonium growing around her.

She vividly remembered the blood on her father's palms. The way he had held his arms out. The Ruaka had turned its attention from her then and was drawn to him instead. She had screamed, pleaded, but he only smiled back at her.

Then the Ruaka lunged at him hungrily, and the memory shattered as soon as she heard her name.

"Selenna!" Garvan's voice jerked her back as he shook her shoulder. "What do we do?"

She forced down the past with a deep breath. This was no time to grieve or freeze. She had to lead.

Her gaze went up—the Ruakas were climbing now, grotesque silhouettes on the rooftops, their rattling echoing. The homes were no longer safe.

A figure ran past where she and Garvan crouched. Garvan shifted beside her. "Cian!"

The adolescent boy stopped, eyes wide with tension, looking around for his father.

"Here!" Garvan hissed. He grabbed Cian the moment the boy reached them. "Are you out of your mind?"

Cian wheezed frantically. "I...I couldn't find you..."

Selenna didn't wait. "Take him. Get everyone who's not injured inside. And..." she paused, thinking fast. Blood; The Ruakas were drawn to it. She turned to Garvan. "Every woman and girl on their flow, get them to Malina's home."

Garvan's brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Remember we cleaned it out with Malina's scented oils." The name left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she shook it off. "The scent should mask the blood. Just go!"

Garvan didn't argue. He grabbed Cian by his arm and ran into the darkness.

Selenna stood to her feet. She had one more thing to do. Her mare was in heat. The scent would be too strong. The Ruakas might go after her next.

Her boots sank into the dirt as she ran, the sounds of screams rising behind her. She looked toward the field where the first Ruaka stood motionless, hinting that it led the herd there to feed. Behind it, more were forcing through the dome.

This bastard had some nerve coming back. If only Edrik were here.

Meanwhile, at the West Wall, Edrik remained oblivious to her plight as the flask of ale made its round between him and his squad, a team-bonding tradition as the crisp, cold night breeze stung their eyes worse than the alcohol.

Gaegon was sat on a stack of crates, waved his meaty hand as he continued his latest tale of fiction.

"So there I was, one leg up on the dresser, her ankles locked behind my back..."

"Oh, here we go again," Maeve groaned, rolling her eyes as she restrung her crossbow.

Edrik smirked as he wiped down his sword with a rag. "If I had a brass bit for every time you started a story like that..."

"We'd all be rich," Conall finished drily, taking a large swig from the flask before passing it to Kris who silently declined.

Tyron, the only one who wasn't even pretending to listen, leaned against the battlements with his telescope raised to one eye, absentmindedly scanning the dark horizon.

"...and just when I thought the poor girl had passed out from sheer pleasure..."

"Pleasure or suffocation?" Kris cut in, leaning on his sword.

That warranted a few collective chuckles, but Gaegon wasn't dissuaded. He pushed himself up, his bulky frame towering over them. "You hurt me, lads. I tell these tales to inspire. To remind you lot that there's more to life than steel and stone."

"More like you're reminding us why you got that rash last year," Maeve said.

The laughter that erupted shook the wooden planks. Gaegon opened his mouth to fire back, but before he could, Conall jerked up beside him.

"Gaegon, did I drink too much?"

Gaegon frowned. "What're you on about?"

"Look south," Conall said, pointing.

Every head turned as a white flare of light ascended from the far side of the city.

Edrik squinted at it. "Demon sighting. Not inside the walls...yet."

The relaxed atmosphere dissolved as a low murmur spread among the other soldiers stationed along the Western watch. The soldiers tensed, their hands locating their weapons instinctively.

Gaegon groaned. "Great. Something always comes up when I'm getting to the good part."

He was met with a round of irritated gazes. Before anyone could answer, a second flare drifted up, beaming bright red.

This was no routine sighting. This meant every available unit not already on duty was to mobilize at the South border.

Clamoring voices rose as some of the other soldiers hurried to relay the message down the line. Some were already discussing with their captains, others heading toward the wall stairs..

Edrik exhaled sharply, his mind drifting to Selenna. "We should go."

Maeve frowned. "If every available unit...not on duty...is heading there, we might be more useful staying put." Then, seeing how tensed Edrik looked, she added, rolling her eyes, "But we should at least check it out."

Before they could come to a decision, Tyron suddenly straightened, telescope still held up to his eye.

"Wait," he murmured.

Edrik turned around to him. "What?"

Tyron lowered the telescope slightly, his brows knitted in thought. Then he shoved it toward Edrik. "Look there. The dome."

Edrik took the scope and looked in the direction Tyron had pointed. He gasped sharply in confusion.

A lone figure of a man stood on the inside of the dome, a bag slung over his shoulder. He looked around cautiously before walking through the dome, effortlessly passing through it like air without the slightest resistance.

"What in the hells...?" Edrik whispered.

Back at the settlement, the atmosphere was thrown into unhinged chaos as homes were now ablaze. Garvan's heart pounded in his chest, each step driving fast and desperate, every footfall sounding like the end of the world. His hands trembled as he pushed open the door to a house, his voice filled with urgency.

"Any women or girls on their flow...now. Come with me, now!"

Huddled together in the corner of the house was a family, still wide-eyed with fear. They exchanged frantic glances, but they didn't hesitate. A woman got up and grabbed her daughters, their arms trembling as they approached Garvan. Garvan didn't wait. He didn't need to.

"Get to Malina's house. Now."

He looked back at his son, seeing the bitter realization in his eyes that their lives had already been altered. There was no going back.

As he led the women quickly through the muddy paths of the settlement, the devastation around them was difficult to process—mutilated bodies sprawled in every corner, their eyes empty and lifeless, staring at nothing.

At the last turn, Garvan's son froze in horror. "Father!"

The clicking sound was hardly audible over the surrounding chaos, but Garvan heard it—he turned, just in time to see one of the Ruakas, its fanged jaws wet with blood, rip through a young girl. She couldn't scream. Not even a gasp—just silence as she was snatched, pulled back into the darkness.

Garvan felt his legs buckle as his pulse rose. He wanted to scream. But there was no time. He could only grab his son's wrist and pull him forward, forcing him to double his steps.

They reached Malina's home but only a few women and daughters had made it. Garvan looked around quickly, seeing the faint gleam of hope in their eyes as they huddled together.

"Everyone inside. Close the door." He ushered them into the house and slammed the wooden door shut with final thud that echoed in his chest. Garvan stood in the doorway for a while, watching the terrified faces stare back at him.

But Garvan knew there was no safety in Malina's house. The Ruakas were still out there and with this many bleeding women huddled in one place, it would only be a matter of time before the Ruakas sniff them out.

Meanwhile, Selenna was in her stable, applying scented oils onto her mare's coat. Her heart was still pounding from the fear of being attacked by the Ruakas.

Her fingers trembled as they spread the oil across the animal's hide. The familiar scent of lavender and rose oil barely comforting her. But then she heard it—a faint rustle behind her.

She froze. Her breath hitched in her chest as she slowly and carefully turned her head. Please, don't see me. Please don't smell me, she prayed.

The Ruaka was there, its snout slits flaring open, tasting the air, its tongue flicking in and out like a serpent's as it made that clicking sound that made Selenna shudder.

Her heart was hammering against her ribs, trying to break out, but she couldn't make a sound. She couldn't even breathe. If it heard her, she would be just another casualty that night.

The beast moved its head around the corner of the stable, slowly stalking its way into the stable, but then—

A man burst out of his house, panic-stricken. His scream cut through the air, full of terror as he staggered desperately. The Ruaka heard him instantly. It twisted its head toward the man and sprang at him, jaws tearing through his body in an instant.

His scream quickly transformed into a gurgling shriek that was immediately cut short—he was gone, his blood splattering all over the ground.

Selenna didn't hesitate as she grabbed the reins of her mare and swung up onto its back. Her fingers gripped the leather tight, spurring the horse into a gallop.

She rode through the settlement with urgency, taking a shortcut that merged into the path that led to Dunmore. She needed to get to Dunmore, warn them, and get help—but as the Southern gates of the city came into view, the sight she saw made her eyes widen with shock.

Ruakas—several of them—were already at the wall, trying to scale the towering structure, climbing slowly but faltering periodically. The archers on top fired arrows, but they were as ineffective as the arrows bounced off the skulls of the demons like they were nothing.

She pulled the mare back, hit with the grim realization that the city she considered a sanctuary, was under siege, and no one was coming to help.

Far from the South wall, in the heart of Dunmore, the Vanguard barracks thrummed to life as Dunmore's defenders prepared to face the looming threat. Aric, Caden, Finn, and Lyra moved urgently down the dark narrow corridor of the Quarters, lit by the faint light of lanterns places along the walls. Their boots clicked steadily against the cold stone floor.

Aric adjusted the buckles of his armor, rolling his shoulders as he walked. He was familiar with its weight, but still felt a tolerable ache in his back from the whipping. He gritted his jaw, pushing it to the back of his mind.

Caden walked beside him, tightening the leather straps of his vambraces with quick, practised movements. "We're not even in Rift season yet," he remarked irritatedly. "And we're already getting reports of demon attacks?"

Finn, strapping his belt into place, groaned exaggeratedly. "Tsk. Couldn't they wait? I had plans to do absolutely nothing tonight." He smirked at Lyra. "And you? You had anything planned?"

Lyra, who was tightening the cords of her shoulder pauldrons, shot him a flat stare. "Yes. Sleeping."

Aric scoffed, fastening the last strap of his chest plate. "Would've been nice."

By the time they reached the hallway exit, the smell of sweat and steel greeted them as they walked into the open courtyard. It was a hive of geared-up soldiers, some moving in clusters, already prepared, others still buckling on their armor and checking weapons under the dim glow of flickering torches. The courtyard was drenched in the din of murmured conversations, the frequent rustling of armor and the metallic scrape of blades.

Finn's sharp eyes scanned the courtyard before spotting a familiar lone figure near the edge—Garrick, taking a swig from his dented flask.

Finn elbowed Aric. "Look at that. The great Garrick taking a few shots before battle, those demons have no idea what's coming for them."

Aric let out a quiet chuckle. "Let's go."

The four of them made their way across the courtyard, weaving between clusters of soldiers. As they neared Garrick, he lowered his flask, regarding them with that same nonchalant expression.

"I thought you'd all sleep through the attack. Didn't think you'd wake up in time for the party. " he said flatly.

Finn stretched his arms over his head with a groan. "Believe me, I would if you just say the word."

Garrick snorted a scoff. He briefly swept his eyes over them, but his gaze settled on Aric. "How's your back?"

Aric shifted, tightening the strap across his chest. "Oh, just fine. I was hoping you'd go harder next time."

Something that could barely pass for a smile formed on Garrick's lips. "No hard feelings." His voice devoid of any emotion. "It had to be done. The recruits needed to understand how things are handled in the Vanguard."

Aric stared him down, then exhaled, looking away. "Yeah. I got that."

It wasn't an apology, but it wasn't remorse either. It was just the way things were. The background murmurs and clangs resumed, until the distant pounding of hooves came through.

A grizzled soldier rode into the courtyard, his face weathered with dust and exhaustion. He reined the beast to a stop before the gathered soldiers, its breaths curling into mists in the cold air.

"We're dealing with Widowmakers!" the rider shouted. "Half a dozen of them, even more, ravaging through the outisders' camp!"

Uneasy clamoring surged through the courtyard, soldiers pushing closer, some cursing under their breaths, others exchanging nervous glances.

"Some are trying to scale the walls," the soldier added. "As usual, our archers can't pierce their skulls—command is assembling a kill team to go outside the gates, lure them away from the walls and engage them directly."

The murmuring grew louder. Widowmakers didn't attack this early—not in mid-summer, and were always the last to show up, especially after other demons had softened the city's defenses.

A lewd laughter broke out from one corner. "That's suicide," someone yelled.

"Fuck that," another soldier exclaimed. "I'd rather face the wardmaster than get torn apart! It's not even Rift season!"

"Well I'm taking neither." The first soldier retorted.

Garrick looked around, taking one long drink from his flask. He took a step forward, making his way through the crowd till he reached where the rider was saddled on his horse, before letting out a sharp scoff of amusement and contempt.

"Listen to yourselves," he began. "Cowards. The lot of you."

The murmuring died down, thick silence settling in. The soldiers stared at him, the harsh truth of his words hitting them.

"You think you have a choice?" Garrick continued. "You think the people sleeping soundly in their beds...your families, your friends...get to decide whether or not they wake up to a city intact? No. That's on us. That's on the Vanguard. It always has been. We've provided these people with a sense of security for years just so they don't wake up to demons knocking on their doors for breakfast."

He paced about now, his steps slow and measured.

"We are the line," he roared. "We are the shield, the sword, the fuckin' wall that stands between Dunmore and everything out there that would see it burn! And right now, those Widowmakers are hammering at our gates, testing our mettle, waiting to see if we flinch!"

He let the silence settle in before he carried on.

"You want to cower? Fine. But don't call yourselves soldiers. A soldier dies once. A coward? He dies every damn day." Garrick stopped, raising his flask to his mouth and quickly realizing he had exhausted the liquor. "I plan to die once. And if you're worth a damn, you'll saddle up and ride with me to the south border. We'll show those fuckers who they're dealing with."

The soldiers roared in agreement, a war cry that shook the very walls of the barracks. The murmuring resumed as soon as the cheering faded out, replaced by the distant neighs of horses being readied.

"Bring the horses!" Garrick barked.

Before he could move, Aric stepped forward, concern and contemplation written all over his face.

"Garrick, wait," he said.

Garrick exhaled sharply. "Not now, Aric. My drink needs to be refilled before we head out."

But Aric didn't back down. "We need to talk about your plan."

Garrick tried to brush past him, but Aric grabbed him by the arm.

"We've had our differences, Garrick," Aric stated, his grip tight. "And I know there's been friction...hell, I don't expect that to change overnight. But you and I? We swore the same oath. We're here to protect the same people."

Garrick pulled his arm free, facing him with a piercing glare. "And that's exactly what I'm doing."

Aric held his ground, his tone calm. "I don't think so. Right now, leading those men out there is not protecting the people...it's leading soldiers straight to their deaths."

Garrick exhaled, his jaw tight. He wasn't a man who liked being challenged, and Aric knew it. But he also knew Garrick wasn't a fool.

"Just listen to me," Aric said. "I have a better plan."

A tense silence stretched out between them.

Then, finally, Garrick shrugged, his face carrying an indistinct expression. "Fine. Talk."