The ashes had not settled. Even as the sun began to rise, the land of twilight refused to return to peace. Smoke curled into the bruised sky, and the wind carried whispers—memories of those who fell, voices fading into the cold.
Reiji stood at the edge of the crater where the fortress had once pulsed with crimson life. The ground beneath his boots was glassed black, heat still trembling from the earth. Beside him, Kaede adjusted the strap of her damaged rifle, eyes scanning the horizon where no banners flew anymore—only shadows moving between the mist.
"Three of ours survived the western flank," she said softly. "No sign of the others."
Reiji didn't answer immediately. His gaze was fixed on the crimson shard in his palm—the remnant of Vale's vow. It glowed faintly, like a dying ember refusing to fade.
"He knew what he was doing," Reiji murmured, voice hoarse. "He wanted to bury the Dominion's core before it spread."
Kaede looked at him, her expression unreadable. "You sound like you're forgiving him."
"I'm not." He slipped the shard into his coat. "But I understand him."
Silence. The kind that didn't feel empty, but heavy—like the weight of something unfinished.
Kaede finally turned away. "We should move. The Dominion won't leave this loss unanswered."
Reiji nodded. "Then we march before their next wave rises."
---
By midday, the remnants of the Vanguard had regrouped near the ridge, where twisted trees and broken machinery painted a grim landscape. The survivors—less than twenty now—stood in muted lines, their faces hidden behind cracked masks. They didn't speak; they didn't need to. The silence itself was their mourning.
Reiji approached the line of bodies laid out beneath the ruined flag of Zephyr's Division. He knelt, resting a hand on the cold armor of a fallen Shadow.
Kaede watched him from a distance. The air carried faint embers, drifting like dying fireflies.
He whispered something she couldn't hear. Then he stood, drawing his sword once more—not to fight, but to press the edge into the ground beside the bodies.
A symbol. A vow.
"We march," he said quietly, loud enough for the survivors to hear. "Not as ghosts. But as witnesses."
---
As the day bled into dusk, the Vanguard began their march southward—through a forest stripped bare by war, where every tree bore the scar of flame. The ground was littered with casings, broken drones, and bones half-buried in the dirt.
The sound of their boots was the only rhythm left in the dying world.
No songs, no banners—just the cadence of survival.
Kaede walked beside Reiji, glancing occasionally at his expression. It hadn't changed since morning: distant, cold, and impossibly calm. Yet she knew that calm wasn't peace. It was control—fragile and deliberate.
"What happens when the Dominion retaliates?" she asked quietly.
Reiji's eyes didn't move from the path ahead. "They already have."
She frowned. "What do you mean?"
He stopped, kneeling near a fallen drone—its lens cracked, but still faintly glowing. He pressed two fingers against it. A soft pulse of light responded, followed by a distorted projection: Dominion insignias, marching patterns, orders for "Reclamation Units" converging east of the ridge.
Kaede inhaled sharply. "They're mobilizing again."
Reiji's voice was low. "They won't forgive what happened to Vale. They'll make this valley a grave."
---
Night came fast.
The Vanguard set up temporary camp beneath the ruins of an old observation tower. The structure leaned dangerously, its steel bones creaking in the wind. A few Shadows kept watch, their silhouettes motionless against the dying firelight.
Kaede sat by the flames, rubbing her gloved hands together. "Do you ever wonder," she asked softly, "if this is all just... repeating?"
Reiji sat across from her, his sword resting beside him. The flickering fire made his eyes look hollow, like pieces of broken glass.
"History doesn't repeat," he said after a moment. "People do."
Kaede gave a small, bitter smile. "Then maybe we deserve the cycle."
Reiji looked up, his tone quieter now. "Deserve or not, we still walk through it."
She stared into the flames. "You sound like Vale again."
That name hung between them like a wound.
Reiji's expression didn't change, but the tension in his shoulders said everything. "He made a choice I couldn't."
Kaede looked at him sharply. "You mean surrender?"
He shook his head. "He chose to end his story before someone else did. Maybe that's what freedom meant to him."
The fire cracked, spitting sparks into the night.
Kaede leaned back, closing her eyes. "You talk about him like you still carry his voice."
Reiji's hand brushed against his coat pocket—the faint glow of the crimson shard flickering through the fabric. "I do."
---
Later that night, when the camp had fallen into uneasy silence, Reiji stood alone outside the perimeter. The wind carried the distant hum of drones—far, but approaching. He watched the stars—or what remained of them—barely visible through the ash clouds.
In that quiet, he finally allowed himself to breathe.
His hand went to the shard again. For a brief moment, it pulsed brighter. And a faint whisper followed—Vale's voice, fragmented and fading:
> "You can't save what you won't face."
Reiji's jaw tightened. He looked toward the east, where faint lights marked the Dominion's advance.
"Then I'll face it all," he murmured.
He sheathed his sword and turned back toward the camp. "Kaede. Wake the others."
She stirred instantly, rising to her feet. "What is it?"
Reiji's tone was cold, decisive. "They're coming. And this time, they're not after the fortress."
Her eyes widened. "They're after us."
Reiji nodded once. "Then we become the shadows they fear."
---
The Vanguard moved before dawn.
Silent. Focused. Shadows among ruins.
They left no tracks—only the whisper of wind where they had passed. The rising light caught fragments of their movement: glints of metal, the ripple of dark cloaks, the reflection of eyes that refused to die.
As they disappeared into the mist, Reiji looked back once more at the ruins of the fortress—where Vale had fallen, where everything began to change.
"Your vow," he whispered, "won't end here."
And with that, he vanished into the haze, leading his broken army into the unknown.
The dawn that followed was quiet—too quiet.
But somewhere within that silence, the march continued.