OBSIDIAN RIFT

Edrik's squad gathered at the edge of the dome where the stranger slipped through, their boots crunching over the wet grass. The night felt a lot colder here, the damp scent of the forest seeping through the dome.

"Well, shit," Conall muttered, crouching to run his fingers over the dirt. "Whoever he is, he's been using this spot for a while."

Edrik surveyed the ground with a frown. The dome was supposed to be impenetrable to the average person.

"So what's the verdict?" Maeve asked, folding her arms. "We going after him?"

Kris scoffed. "Into the woods, at night, after some lunatic who thought slipping out of the dome was a good idea? Sounds like a solid way to get ourselves killed."

"Maybe he's a smuggler," Conall suggested. "Could be sneaking goods in and out of the city. We've seen weirder ways to turn a profit."

Maeve clicked her tongue in disagreement. "The elites crushed every smuggling attempt. We've seen it before."

Gaegon sighed, hands akimbo. "You lot ever consider that he might be an exile? Banished. No place left for him inside."

That possibility hung in the air. But even exiles didn't choose to leave this way.

Edrik shook his head. "Doesn't make sense. If he was banished, we'd know about it."

"So what then?" Kris asked. "What's his game?"

Edrik exhaled, looking at the ground. "I don't know. But what I do know is that he'll be back." He nudged the ground with his boot. "This spot's too worn. He's been using it regularly. He'll return."

Conall spoke again, reducing his voice to a whisper. "And if he's been using this spot a while, that means he's known about this blind spot. Knew exactly where to slip through." His eyes darkened with realization. "Which means someone in the Vanguard told him."

Edrik rubbed his jaw, treachery hit like a slap to the face. "No one else should know about this. Not a word."

No one argued.

Then came the difficult question. "How the hell did he do it?" Maeve asked. "No one gets through the dome, not without..."

"Not without an Eldra amulet," Tyron cut in, smiling as he touched the glowing pendant around his neck. "Honestly, you lot are lucky I joined you on watch tonight."

"Yeah, right," Maeve snorted a chuckle. "You 'joined us' for the ale, and we all know it."

The others snickered but Tyron gave an unbothered shrug. "And? A wise mage enjoys both drink and good company. But in this case, you're getting my expertise for free, so I suggest you listen."

He held up the amulet, the silver chain dangling between his fingers. "This little trinket? It's crafted with energy from Ilona's beam. That's the same holy light that fuels the dome. So, when I wear this..." He pulled the chain back over his head, the pendant resting on his chest. "...my body's energy becomes identical to the dome's. Meaning, I can pass through it like I belong to it."

"That means..." Maeve started.

"He had an amulet," Edrik finished. "Someone gave him one."

And that someone was likely a mage or also a Vanguard soldier.

"So how do we catch him?" Conall asked. "We can't sit around every night waiting for him to stroll back in."

Tyron rubbed his palms, grinning. "Ah, and this is where you'll be thanking me later. See, while healers are busy fussing over flesh wounds, mages..."

"Get to the point," Edrik growled, unimpressed.

Tyron rolled his eyes but continued. "There's a spell. It's like an invisible spiderweb. I cast it over this exact spot, and when someone passes through, it sends a pulse to my amulet. Not only that, but the spell's essence will cling to them for half a day. Meaning, when he comes back, we will find him."

There was a pause as the squad exchanged glances. Kris nodded in approval. "That's actually... smart."

Tyron scoffed, a smug look on his face. "Of course it is. Now, if no one objects..." He cracked his knuckles. "I'll get to work."

Edrik nodded. "You and Gaegon stay here. The rest of us need to check on whatever's happening at the South border."

With that settled, the others turned and left, their footsteps receding. Gaegon stretched dramatically as Tyron knelt, his hands hovering over the ground, already murmuring some incantations.

"Guess that means you get to hear the rest of my story," Gaegon said.

Tyron let out a frustrating groan. "I hate my life."

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Beyond the South Wall, the settlement lay ruined. Mangled and lifeless bodies littered the streets, some hanging off burning rooftops, others left lying in the paths.

Selenna sat on the ground behind a house, her back resting against a broken fence, staring at the carnage. Her hands trembled in her lap. She had failed to protect her people. She had tried. And yet, people she cared about lay lifeless in every corner of the place she called home.

Nearby, her horse was tied to a post, hooves pressing into the ground as it snorted anxiously. From where she sat, she saw Dunmore's great wall. The Ruakas were still trying to climb, their grotesque figures hanging on the wall, only to fall to the ground. Yet they kept trying over and over again, as if their predatory wits knew nothing except hunger and persistence.

Inside whatever remained of the settlement, the lead Ruaka, prowled through the ruins. Around it, the others skittered about the wreckage, scouring, as their clicking chitter echoed through the night.

Then, the lead Ruaka stopped. It lifted its snout, sniffing the air. It turned, its bloody jaws drooling as it picked up a new familiar scent. Slowly, it began to move, its clawed appendages pressing into the blood-soaked earth, taking it toward a small, lit up house at the center of the settlement; Malina's home.

Inside, Garvan stood near the door. Around him, the others, men, women, children, huddled together, their faces faintly illuminated by the glow from the candlelight. The small house reeked more of sweat and fear than scented oils. Cian, sat on the ground near him. The boy hadn't spoken since they got there. Garvan understood, the trauma weighed down on him too.

Garvan suddenly shifted, peeping out through a narrow crack in the door. In the distance, under the firelight from a burning house, monstrous silhouettes moved about. The Ruakas were coming, their alpha first, the others flanking it like wolves in a silent, deadly hunt.

A knot formed in his stomach as he realized there was no escape.He swallowed hard, then withdrew from the door, his bones heavy with fatigue as he sat on the ground. He reached for Cian, pulling him closer, resting his hand over the boy's dark curls.

He didn't tell the others what he'd seen. What was the point? Let them hold on to hope for a little while longer. Instead, he just closed his eyes and waited.

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The situation wasn't as hopeless in the city of Dunmore as steady hoofbeats echoed through the street that led to the South border, wall-mounted torches casting a dull lighting. The squad rode fast, rushing past startled late-night merchants and civilians who stilled at the sight of armored soldiers thundering through.

Garrick led the squad, his face expressionless and his eyes locked-on ahead. Behind him, Aric, Caden, Lyra, Finn, and the grizzled soldier who had delivered the news kept up.

As they went round a corner, Finn steered his horse closer to Lyra's, grinning wryly. "For all that shouting, I don't see those bastards from the barracks riding with us."

Lyra eyed him a side look. "And you're surprised?"

Finn huffed as his flirting attempts fell on infertile grounds, then he leaned forward in his saddle and yelled out at Garrick. "Hey, Garrick! Seems like all that talking didn't quite do the trick, huh? No drunk speeches can change the minds of cowards, I suppose."

Garrick didn't look at him. "Tch. Let them piss themselves in their bunks. I only need warriors to do a soldier's work. Not dickless rats with a spine as weak as a scarecrow in a brawl."

Finn snorted. "A scarecrow in a brawl? You really need to update your insults, old man."

Aric, ignoring the banter, spurred his horse forward until he caught up with Garrick.

"Garrick. You need to reconsider my plan," Aric yelled, the pounding of hooves swallowing his voice. "Going out to fight them like this isn't going to work. You saw what happened last time...Widowmakers aren't like other demons. They adapt and learn."

Garrick remained expressionless, keeping his eyes forward. "What changed Aric? I thought you loved to charge into the heat of battle without thinking."

"I just want us to be smart about this," Aric replied, keeping his horse at a steady speed. "They're attacking early. That means something's different this time."

Garrick gave him a dry look. Then, without another word, he urged his horse forward, putting a gap between them.

Aric sighed in defeat. Damn it.

Finn caught up to him, watching Garrick race ahead. "That went well," he taunted. "Maybe next time, add a 'pretty please.'"

Aric barely paid him any attention. He had a really bad feeling about this.

The base of the South Wall was already alive with movements of soldiers, some forming clusters of hushed conversations while some were gearing up and inspecting their weapons. Up on the wall, some soldiers stood over the battlements, gripping their weapons tightly.

Despite the danger of the situation, a few civilians had gathered at the base of the wall—residents from nearby homes who had been woken from sleep by the clamoring and clanking. Some of them just stood outside their doors in loose nightwears, while others peered from their windows, lanterns glowing beside them.

At the front of the small crowd was a senior soldier—a stoic looking older man with a thick grey beard and sharp but tired eyes. He stood with the authority of someone who had been through too many nights like this, his patience dwindling with each one.

"You lot are in violation of curfew," the soldier barked, sweeping a glare over the gathered citizens. "Return to your homes. Now."

A timid looking man in the crowd hesitated before stepping forward, pointing at the wall with trembling hands. "I... I heard something. A rattling noise. From outside the wall. It sounded like..."

"You didn't hear anything," the soldier interrupted quickly, taking a slow, deliberate step towards him, his hands folded behind his back.

The man flinched, stepping back in fear. "But if it is Widowmakers..."

"It's part of a training exercise," the soldier snapped, his temper rising. "You think we'd let those things just waltz up to the city without handling it? You people always do this...jumping at shadows, spreading panic with your nonsense."

"But I heard..."

"Enough," the soldier growled, walking directly to the civilian. He stood towering over the man, his eyes burning with irritation. "You lot love running your mouths, don't you? You think you're helping by talking? That's how misinformation spreads. That's how we get needless chaos."

The man shuddered with unease but another voice came up from the crowd.

"If you care so much about our safety, then let us in the inner circle," an older woman said. "You won't even have to tell us twice. Arrest us, if you want...so long as it means we're inside those walls."

The crowd murmured in agreement.

The soldier's jaw clenches, his patience shattering as something wicked flickered in his eyes. "You think you're worth that?" he sneered. "You think those gates are open for just anyone?" He flared at the woman, stepping closer. "I could throw you in a cell, sure, I could even throw you out of the dome. But if I did, I guarantee no one would come looking for you. Not your neighbors, not your family. Nobody. You'd be forgotten in a heartbeat. Because out here?" He gestured vaguely at the surroundings. "You don't matter. None of you do. So get into your damn homes, shut your windows and doors and dream about a life in the inner circle before I change my mind."

A heavy silence fell over the crowd, his words cutting through them, sharper than any blade.

One by one, the civilians looked away dejectedly. None of them wanted to be the next one to draw his attention. They began shuffling back into their homes, their protests now nothing more than concealed murmurs.

By the time the last door shut, the soldier exhaled sharply, cursing under his breath as he turned back toward the few soldiers who pretended not to have seen or heard anything.

The sudden plodding of hooves on cobblestone cut through the newfound silence.

Garrick arrived first, his face tight with exhaustion as his steadied his horse to a stop. Aric, Caden, Lyra, Finn, and the other soldier rode closely behind him.

Garrick and his squad dismounted quickly, the South Wall looming above them, the scent of cold damp stone filling their lungs. Soldiers moved about carrying torches that burned steadily, their flames swaying in the night's breeze, barely pushing back the darkness.

The grey-bearded soldier watched them approach. His sharp eyes took in the deficient number of reinforcements coming his way.

"That all?" he asked, voice laden with disappointment. His gaze shifted to the exhausted soldier who he'd personally sent to rally the barracks. "Where are the others?"

Before the weary soldier could summon up a response, Garrick cut in.

"They didn't come, Ronan." His tone was flat, almost bored.

Ronan's frown deepened, his expression hardening with disgust.

"Bastards," he exclaimed.

"Don't blame them," Garrick said as he removed his gloves, flexing his fingers. "It's not rift season, and we're dealing with Widowmakers. Not exactly something you want to charge at while you're still trying to enjoy your pre-rift summer."

"We needed those men," Ronan said, exhaling in frustration . "We needed numbers."

"And what good would they be?" Garrick retorted. "You want to march a bunch of cowards outside the wall? They'll die before they draw their swords. And we both know they won't be the only ones."

Ronan cursed under his breath but didn't argue any further. Instead, he turned, gesturing for them to follow him.

"Come on," he said, leading them toward the stairs that lead up to the battlements on the wall. "You need to see this."

As they climbed, the distant, unnatural chittering and clicking grew louder and more distinct. An eerie sound that made the skin crawl, like claws scraping against rough bone.

The moment they reached the top, Ronan grabbed a burning torch and held it out before dropping it over the wall. As it plummeted into the darkness below, Garrick's eyes fell on the creatures below.

Nearly a dozen of them, their insect-like bodies illuminated by the falling torchlight. They clung to the lower half of the wall, scraping fruitlessly at the smooth upper half of the wall.

"We're lucky we cemented those crevices in the top half after their last attack", Ronan muttered, looking down at the creatures as they attached themselves to the wall, watching and waiting.

Garrick felt uneasy. "Your man said half a dozen," he murmured.

"There were half a dozen," Ronan replied grimly. "More keep coming from that settlement. Look."

In the distance, the settlement was shrouded in darkness, save for the few houses ablaze. But figures could be seen moving on the shadowed rooftops and deserted streets.

Garrick took a deep breath, his mind racing. "This isn't just any stray group, it's a herd."

"I know, and every herd has an alpha, which is why we can't wait it out," Ronan said. "If the whole city wakes up to Widowmakers at their gates in the middle of summer, there'll be panic." His jaw tightened. "And we both know what happened the last time the entire outer circle panicked."

Garrick's expression darkened. "I didn't need the reminder, Ronan. That day gave me scars that no amount of time could erase."

Before Ronan could respond, Aric spoke up beside Garrick.

"We don't need to fight them," he said, stepping forward. "We can lead them away."

Garrick pinched the bridge of his nose. "Aric, you..."

"Wait," Ronan interrupted. He studied Aric, clearly intrigued. "Lead them how?"

Aric straightened. "With blood." He took out his dagger and made a shallow cut on his palm and immediately, the Widowmakers beneath them began chittering and scratching the wall erratically. As the incision oozed more blood, few of the creatures sprinted from within the settlement towards the wall.

"If we bait them," Aric continued, sheathing the dagger, "we can lead them away from Dunmore. We've seen Widowmakers become mindless once they catch a scent. We just need to give them something worth chasing."

Ronan nodded slowly, considering. "And who exactly is going to be that bait?"

"I will," Aric said without hesitating.

Caden jerked beside him. "Aric..."

Garrick folded his arms, his face carrying a blank expression. "You want to run into the dark, dragging almost a dozen Widowmakers behind you?"

"More than a dozen," Ronan muttered. "The ones in the settlement will follow."

"Even better," Aric said, lips curling into a humorless grin. "More incentive for them to follow."

Garrick shook his head. "Damn, why must you always be this suicidal and stubborn? This is reckless. It doubt it'd even work."

"It will work," Aric insisted.

"You could die," Garrick snapped.

Aric shrugged. "Maybe. But at least if I do, I won't be a thorn in your side anymore."

Caden, standing beside Aric, looked nervous.

"Stop it," Caden muttered. "You're not dying."

Aric turned to him. "I'll be fine. They'll chase the horse, not me."

Caden needed a lot more than words. "You say that..."

"I know that." The finality of Aric's tone left no room for argument.

Caden didn't push further. He knew that look and the way Aric's mind worked. Once he'd decided on something, there was no talking him out of it.

Garrick, however, wasn't convinced. He threw a look at Ronan.

Ronan sighed. "I won't lie...I wouldn't be the one to lure those things. But if this works, we get them out of the settlement without bloodshed." He scratched his beard. "I say we try it."

Garrick rubbed his palms over his face, mumbling something. After a short moment, he turned to Aric.

"Fine. You win."

Aric smirked and gave Ronan a curt nod.

Finn suddenly clapped a hand on Aric's back. "Just so you know," he said, grinning, "if you do die, I'll be very disappointed. And there will be grave consequences."

Aric snorted at the humorous but poorly timed word play. "I'll keep that in mind."

Garrick rolled his shoulders, his lips pressing into a thin line as he steeled himself for the worst that could happen. There was no going back now.

"Let's do this, it's almost dawn."