Blood of the Forgotten Gods

Nightfall at Westwatch

The fire crackled in the center of the outpost courtyard, sending up soft plumes of smoke that disappeared into the night sky. Westwatch, despite its cold and unforgiving nature, had a rhythm—one that even its harshness couldn't completely overshadow. Tonight, the tension of patrols and unseen dangers gave way to something lighter. The sun had sunk behind the hills, and with it, the soldiers' guard lowered just enough to let them breathe. It was Friday night at Westwatch—one of the few times the militants allowed themselves a moment of ease.

Dan sat on a rough wooden bench near the fire, feeling the warmth seep into his tired bones. Around him, the courtyard buzzed with conversation and laughter, the clatter of cups and plates filling the air. For a few precious hours, the weight of the wilds and the constant patrols seemed to lift. Even in a place like this, people found ways to celebrate being alive.

Beside him, Gareth was holding court, telling some exaggerated story to a small group of recruits, his hands waving dramatically as he described their most recent patrol.

"So there we were," Gareth said, his voice rising theatrically, "fog so thick you could barely see your own hands! I swear, it was like the trees were whispering to each other, planning something. And suddenly—out of nowhere—we hear this rustling. I was sure it was the shades coming to get us!"

A few of the younger recruits leaned in, eyes wide, clearly hanging on Gareth's every word.

Dan shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "You were jumping at squirrels, Gareth."

Gareth shot him a mock glare. "Hey, a man's allowed to be cautious. Squirrels or shades, we were outnumbered!"

Laughter rippled through the group, and even Dan couldn't help but chuckle. The tension from the last few days felt like it was finally loosening. Despite the dangers lurking in Zone Six, despite the ever-present fog and the haunted woods, moments like this reminded Dan of the camaraderie that kept them going. Without it, Westwatch would swallow them whole.

"Next time, we'll let you handle the squirrels alone," Tomas chimed in, joining the banter as he handed Dan a cup of ale. "See if you survive that ambush."

"Very funny," Gareth retorted, though a grin spread across his face. "But I'll have you know, it takes a brave man to face the terrors of Zone Six."

Tomas raised his cup in mock salute. "To the bravest squirrel-hunter in all of Elyndor."

The group broke into another fit of laughter, the kind that eased the knots of fear that had been building since they arrived at the outpost. Dan took a sip of his ale, letting the moment settle in. This was what kept them sane out here—these small moments of light amidst the shadows.

The courtyard was filled with similar scenes. Soldiers sat in small groups, huddled around fires or leaning against the stone walls, their weapons always within arm's reach. Even though it was a night to relax, no one at Westwatch ever truly let their guard down. The wild lands didn't respect boundaries, and neither did the bandits who roamed them.

Dan's eyes drifted over the scene, taking in the faces of the other militants. Some were veterans who had been at Westwatch for years, their expressions hard and distant even in the midst of the gathering. Others were newer recruits, like Dan and his friends, still adjusting to the reality of life at the outpost. The mix of experience and youth gave Westwatch its unique atmosphere—one that balanced on the edge of weariness and determination.

In the corner, near one of the outpost's larger fires, sat Corvin, the squad leader who had led their first patrols. He was speaking quietly with Sergeant Vale, the two of them sharing a rare moment of conversation. Both men carried the weight of command with a steady hand, but even they seemed more at ease tonight.

Dan felt a pang of respect for the older soldiers. Men like Corvin and Vale had seen the worst of Westwatch and yet continued to lead, continued to hold the line, even when everything else seemed to crumble around them. These were men who had survived the outpost's trials, and that survival came with a price.

His gaze shifted, and that's when he saw Willem.

Willem was sitting with a group of militants near the armory, his voice rising above the others, always seeking attention. Dan watched as Willem laughed loudly, gesturing with his cup as if he was already the ruler of the outpost. The sight of him still caused a knot of frustration to twist in Dan's chest, but for tonight, Dan wasn't going to let it bother him. Not now, not when the night was peaceful for once.

Still, the memory of their earlier encounter lingered. Willem had a way of making everything more difficult. But I'm not going to give him that satisfaction, Dan reminded himself. He's not the only problem here.

As the evening wore on, the conversations grew quieter, the mood settling into a comfortable hum. Some of the soldiers began to drift off to their bunks, leaving only the more seasoned veterans and a few others by the fires. Dan sat back, watching the flickering flames, his thoughts turning inward.

"Thinking about tomorrow?" Tomas asked, breaking the silence as he slid onto the bench beside Dan.

Dan nodded slowly, his eyes still on the fire. "Yeah. Can't help it. We're back out in Zone Six."

Tomas sighed, taking a long drink from his cup. "I hear you. That place... it gets to you. Even when nothing happens, you feel it. Like the air's heavier out there."

Dan glanced over at him. "You believe the stories? About the forest being cursed?"

Tomas shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know. Maybe. After walking through that fog all day, it's not hard to see why people think that. It felt like something was there, watching."

Dan didn't respond, but Tomas' words echoed his own thoughts. Something was there. He could still feel the weight of that silence, the sense that they had narrowly avoided something unseen.

But tonight wasn't the time for those thoughts. Tonight was about breathing, about feeling human again. He forced himself to let the tension slip from his shoulders and took another sip of his drink.

Gareth joined them moments later, his face flushed from both the fire and the ale. "What's this? You two brooding over there? Come on, it's the one night we get to relax, and you're going to ruin it with all this serious talk?"

Tomas grinned. "Just mentally preparing for the next time we have to save your life from the squirrel horde."

Gareth groaned. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Not a chance," Dan said, smiling despite himself. "But don't worry. We'll make sure they build a statue of you—'Gareth, Slayer of Squirrels.'"

Laughter followed, and for the first time in what felt like days, Dan allowed himself to relax. Westwatch was still there, lurking on the edges of their minds, but tonight... tonight was for them.

The night stretched on, the fire growing smaller as the flames burned lower. The courtyard was quieter now, most of the soldiers having turned in, leaving only a few stragglers around the fire. Dan and his friends remained, their conversation slowing as exhaustion began to creep in.

Tomas yawned, stretching his arms above his head. "Alright, I'm calling it. We've got another patrol tomorrow, and I'd rather not fall asleep in the middle of it."

Gareth stood as well, clapping Dan on the shoulder. "You coming?"

Dan nodded, though his mind was already drifting back to the thoughts he had been trying to push away. Tomorrow, they'd be back in Zone Six, back to the fog and the silence, back to the weight of the unknown.

But for tonight, as they made their way toward the barracks, he let himself enjoy the final moments of peace. The fire flickered behind them, the warmth lingering in the air, and for now, at least, the night felt just a little safer.