The corrupted forest was worse than Lyra had imagined.
The white frost didn't just coat the trees—it grew from them, crystalline structures that pulsed with sickly light. The air was so cold it burned her lungs despite the resistance potion. Every breath tasted of metal and decay.
"Stay close," Finn whispered, reading tracks in the corrupted snow. "Goblin patrol passed through here maybe twenty minutes ago. Five of them, heading east."
The rescue team moved carefully—Finn on point, Elara and two militia fighters named Marcus (not the elder) and Helen in the middle, Lyra at the rear. Five people deep in enemy territory, searching for two hostages who might already be dead.
Lyra's wand was constantly active, scanning for magical signatures, corruption intensity, threats. The readings were terrifying—this deep into the zone, corruption was strong enough to affect them even through the potions. They had maybe two hours before symptoms would start showing.
"There," Finn pointed ahead through twisted trees.
A goblin encampment. Not the chaotic camps from before—this was military. Organized rows of tents made from corrupted hide. A central command structure. Patrol routes. Defensive positions.
And in the center, a large tent with guards posted.
"That's got to be where prisoners are held," Elara whispered. "Central tent, heavy guard. Classic prisoner interrogation setup."
"We can't fight fifty goblins," Marcus said quietly. "Even with the element of surprise."
"We're not here to fight. We're here to extract Peter and Anna." Elara studied the camp layout. "Lyra, can you create a distraction? Something to draw guards away from that tent?"
Lyra considered her capabilities. "I could create an explosion on the far side of camp. Fire spell, make it look like an attack from that direction. Give you maybe two minutes before they realize it's a diversion."
"Two minutes to get in, find them, and get out?" Helen shook her head. "That's not enough time."
"It's what we have." Elara looked at each of them. "Lyra creates distraction. The rest of us move in fast, grab Peter and Anna, extract before they know what happened. In and out."
It was a terrible plan. The kind of plan that got people killed. But it was the only plan they had.
"Wait," Finn said suddenly. "Movement. Someone's coming."
They pressed into concealment behind corrupted trees as voices approached. Goblins—four of them, speaking in their harsh language. And behind them, another figure.
General Kresh.
_______________________
Kieran stood at the command platform, staring at the map of defensive positions, but his mind wasn't processing the tactical data properly.
Five people in the corrupted forest. High risk. Low probability of success.
He'd authorized it.
"Stop brooding," Aldous said from beside him. "Decision's made. Either they succeed or they don't. Worrying changes nothing."
"I'm not worrying. I'm calculating casualty probabilities and resource allocation if they fail."
"That's what you tell yourself." The old mage studied him. "But your tactical overlay has been stuck on the same position for ten minutes. That's not calculation. That's distraction."
Kieran dismissed the overlay, forcing his attention back to the immediate situation. "The cannon needs modification. General Kresh learned the reload time, the firing arc, the effective range. He'll counter it next time."
"Can't counter thunder that well. Even if he knows the limitations, the psychological impact remains. That weapon terrifies them."
"Fear is a temporary advantage. Professional soldiers adapt to fear." Kieran pulled out design sketches. "We need a second cannon. Different position, overlapping firing arc. That way when one is reloading, the other covers."
"You have three days to build another weapon that took nine days to create?"
"Four days. I'm not counting today." Kieran's mind was already calculating material requirements, construction timelines, crew training needs. "It's possible. Difficult, but possible."
Garrett approached, his arm in a sling from the battle. "Sir, the militia is asking about the rescue team. When they'll be back."
"Unknown. Could be hours. Could be never."
"That's... not reassuring."
"It's accurate. Reassurance based on false hope serves no tactical purpose."
Garrett exchanged a look with Aldous—the kind of look Kieran had learned to recognize. The 'he's being the cold tactician again' look.
"The militia needs to believe the rescue will succeed," Aldous said quietly. "Morale, Kieran. Not everything is tactics."
"False hope that leads to disappointment damages morale more than honest assessment."
"Sometimes people need the lie. Especially when the truth is too hard."
[Kieran: Struggling with emotional support concepts]
______________________
Lyra watched through the trees as General Kresh entered the central tent. The guards snapped to attention with military precision.
Through her enhanced hearing spell, she could make out voices from inside the tent. Goblin language mostly, but some human words.
Then a scream. Human. Male. Peter's voice.
Elara tensed beside her, hand tightening on her weapon. Lyra put a restraining hand on her arm, shaking her head. Not yet. They needed more information first.
General Kresh emerged from the tent after several minutes, speaking to his officers. Lyra's translation spell caught fragments:
"...three days preparation..."
"...counter the thunder-weapon..."
"...flanking approach through the western..."
"...siege equipment to breach..."
This wasn't just a prisoner interrogation. This was a strategy meeting. The General was planning the next assault, right here, right now.
Finn leaned close, whispering directly into her ear. "Can you get closer? Hear the full plan?"
Lyra nodded slowly. She had a spell for that—enhanced hearing at distance. Risky, because it would light up her magical signature, but potentially worth it.
She activated the spell, focusing on the command tent.
The General's voice came clear:
"The thunder-weapon has fifty-second reload. We observed two shots before withdrawal. Maximum range approximately 150 yards. Single firing arc, fixed position northeast of their defensive center."
One of the officers replied: "Counter strategy?"
"Multiple simultaneous breaches. Force them to choose—defend against melee assault or operate the thunder-weapon. They cannot do both effectively. Additionally, we bring mobile cover—ice shields thick enough to stop the wooden projectiles. And we target the thunder-weapon directly with long-range ice magic before the main assault begins."
Another officer: "What if they have more than one thunder-weapon?"
"Then we adapt. But interrogation of the prisoners suggests only one unit exists. The fire-commander would have deployed multiple weapons if available. Therefore, we counter the single weapon and overwhelm with numbers and coordination."
Lyra committed everything to memory. Troop numbers. Attack timing. Approach vectors. Everything that might save lives when the assault came.
Then General Kresh said something that made her blood run cold:
"The prisoners serve their purpose. Interrogation is complete. Execute them at dawn as example to the fire-humans. Display the bodies at the forest edge where their scouts will find them."
Elara heard it too—her translation pendant was working. Her face went white, then red with rage.
"No," she whispered. "No, we're getting them out now."
"We can't," Lyra said quietly. "Look at the guard rotation. There are eight guards on that tent now. We're five people, exhausted, deep in enemy territory. We'd die, and they'd still execute Peter and Anna."
"So we just leave them?"
"We report back. We tell Kieran everything we learned. He might have a plan."
"Kieran would calculate that two lives aren't worth the risk!"
"Maybe. But he'd also recognize that the intelligence we gathered is worth more than a failed rescue attempt. We can't save them right now. But we might save everyone else with what we know."
Elara looked like she wanted to argue, wanted to charge the camp anyway, wanted to do something other than retreat. But she was a soldier. She understood tactical reality even when it hurt.
"We go back," she said, voice tight. "We tell Kieran. And he better have a miracle."
They withdrew carefully, moving through the corrupted forest toward Thornhaven. Behind them, Peter and Anna remained captive, scheduled to die in four hours.
Lyra had never felt more helpless in her life.
___________________
The rescue team returned as darkness fell.
Kieran saw immediately that they were five, not seven. No hostages. But all five team members alive.
"Report," he said without preamble.
Elara delivered the tactical summary—camp location, troop numbers, security arrangements. Then Lyra provided the detailed intelligence from the strategy meeting.
As she spoke, Kieran's expression never changed. He listened with complete analytical attention, processing every detail, his tactical mind constructing the enemy's battle plan from the information provided.
When she finished, he was silent for a long moment.
"Peter and Anna?" Marcus (the elder) asked quietly.
"Alive when we left. Scheduled for execution at dawn." Elara's voice was hollow. "We couldn't get to them. Too many guards, too well defended."
"You made the correct tactical decision," Kieran said. "Attempting rescue would have failed with high probability of team casualties. The intelligence you gathered is worth more than—"
"Don't." Elara cut him off. "Don't tell me their lives are worth less than information. Just... don't."
Kieran closed his mouth. He recognized this emotional state—grief, anger, guilt. Words wouldn't help. Logic wouldn't comfort. Sometimes silence was the only acceptable response.
"The enemy battle plan," he said instead, focusing on what he could actually address. "Lyra, you said they're planning multi-breach assault with mobile cover?"
"Yes. Ice shields thick enough to stop the cannon projectiles. Simultaneous attacks at three points to divide our defense. And they'll target the cannon with long-range ice magic before the main assault."
"Timing?"
"Three days. Dawn assault. Same as today but with counter-measures to everything we did."
Kieran moved to the map table, his mind already working. "Multi-breach assault forces us to divide forces. Mobile ice shields counter the cannon's direct fire capability. Pre-assault bombardment of the cannon position eliminates our main advantage."
He started marking positions on the map—enemy approach vectors based on Lyra's description of the camp layout and General Kresh's statements. Probable breach points. Firing solutions. Defensive allocations.
"Their plan is sound," Kieran said clinically. "Professional military tactics, specifically adapted to counter our demonstrated capabilities. If they execute properly, they have a 67% chance of breaking our defenses."
"Can we stop them?" Marcus asked.
"Yes. Because we know their plan." Kieran's finger traced routes on the map. "They're preparing to counter what we did today. But we're going to change what we do. New tactics, new positions, new weapons deployment."
He looked at the gathered council. "The enemy has spent three days preparing to fight the battle we just won. We'll spend three days preparing to fight a completely different battle. One they're not ready for."
"What about Peter and Anna?" Elara demanded. "They're scheduled to die in four hours!"
"A rescue attempt in four hours has 11% success probability. The camp is alert, the guards are prepared, and we don't have time to plan a proper extraction." Kieran's voice was flat, emotionless. "We cannot save them."
"So we just let them die?"
"No." Kieran pulled out a different map—the one Lyra had helped him sketch from her observations. The enemy camp layout, guard rotations, defensive positions. "We use their execution as a tactical opportunity."
Everyone stared at him.
"Explain," Aldous said carefully.
"The execution happens at dawn. At the forest edge, where our scouts are supposed to find the bodies. That's theater—psychological warfare meant to demoralize us." Kieran marked positions on the map. "But it also means guards will be away from the camp, focused on the execution site. Security will be divided between camp defense and execution detail."
His finger traced a route. "If we hit them during the execution, when their forces are split, when they're not expecting assault because we're supposed to be demoralized and defensive... that's when we have the best chance."
"You want to attack during the execution?" Lyra said slowly, understanding dawning.
"Not attack. Rescue. But yes, during the execution. Small strike team, fast extraction, use their own theater against them." Kieran looked at Elara. "Fifteen-person team. Heavy combat capability. Hit them at dawn when they're performing the execution. Chaos, speed, overwhelming force at the point of contact. Extract the hostages in the confusion."
"That's insane," Marcus said.
"That's a 34% success probability. Which is better than 11%. Which is better than zero." Kieran's eyes were cold, calculating. "It's the best chance we have. The only chance."
[Kieran's Plan: Aggressive rescue during enemy theater]
[Success Probability: 34%]
[Risk: Extreme]
[Strategic Value: High - disrupts enemy morale and timeline]
Elara stared at the map, at the positions Kieran had marked, at the tactical opportunity he'd identified in what seemed like hopeless situation.
"You want to hit them in their own territory, during their execution, and take back our people?"
"Yes."
"That's the most aggressive, risky, insane plan I've ever heard."
"Yes."
"When do we leave?"
A hint of something crossed Kieran's face. Not quite a smile. But close.
"Three hours. That gives time to assemble the team, brief the plan, and position before dawn. We'll need enchanted weapons, resistance potions, and everyone who volunteers needs to understand they might not come back."
He looked directly at Elara. "This is your choice. I'm offering a low-probability rescue option because you're right—we don't abandon our own. But I'm not ordering anyone to go. This is volunteer only."
"I'm in," Elara said immediately.
"I'm in," Lyra said.
"In," Finn confirmed.
Garrett raised his good arm. "In."
One by one, militia members volunteered. Within minutes, Kieran had twenty volunteers for a fifteen-person team.
He selected the fifteen most capable, most experienced, most likely to survive.
"Three hours," he repeated. "Prepare your equipment. Say your goodbyes if you're the type for that. And understand—this is the riskiest operation we've attempted. But if we succeed, we save two lives and destroy enemy morale before their main assault."
The team dispersed to prepare.
Lyra lingered, watching Kieran mark final positions on the map, his mind clearly running thousands of calculations simultaneously.
"You planned this immediately," she said. "The moment I described the camp layout and the execution timing. You saw the tactical opportunity instantly."
"Yes."
"That's... impressive. And a little frightening."
"But necessary." He looked at her. "You're going on this mission. Despite the risk. Despite the probability."
"Of course. They're our people."
"That's irrational. Your death serves no strategic purpose."
"No. But some things are worth doing anyway." She touched his arm gently. "You authorized this mission. The tactically unsound rescue attempt. That means something."
"It means I'm willing to accept higher risk for potential morale benefits."
"It means you're learning to value people beyond their tactical utility." She smiled. "Progress, Kieran. You're making progress."
She left to prepare, leaving Kieran alone with his maps and calculations.
He stared at the enemy camp layout—the one Lyra had described, the one that gave them this slim chance at rescue.
34% success probability.
66% chance of failure, casualties, possible team wipe.
But they were going anyway. Because some things were worth the risk, even when the math said otherwise.
Kieran looked at the map, at the positions, at the tactical opportunity in the enemy's psychological warfare.
And for the first time in a very long time, he smiled.
Not because the math worked out.
But because he'd found a way to turn the enemy's cruelty into tactical vulnerability.
That was worth smiling about.
[Strike Team: Assembled]
[Departure: 3 Hours]
[Target: Enemy execution at dawn]
[Objective: Extract Peter and Anna, disrupt enemy morale]
[Kieran's Assessment: Aggressive, risky, perfectly timed]