Blood of the Forgotten Gods

Shifting Shadows

Morning broke over Westwatch, but the outpost didn't stir with its usual rhythm. The sky above was dull and gray, thick clouds rolling in like a heavy blanket. Even before Dan had fully dressed, he could sense the change in the air—something different, something tense. The courtyard below, usually alive with the noise of early preparations for patrols, was quiet. Too quiet.

He fastened his armor and slung his sword over his shoulder, already anticipating the day ahead. Another patrol in Zone Six, another day walking through the fog and feeling the oppressive silence creep over them. But as he stepped out of the barracks, he noticed immediately that something was off.

The militants weren't gearing up for patrols like they normally would. Instead, small clusters of soldiers gathered near the armory, whispering in low voices. Their faces were tight with concern, their eyes flicking nervously toward the command post.

Dan frowned, scanning the yard for Gareth and Tomas. It wasn't like Sergeant Vale to throw the routine off without reason. Vale was a man of order, of schedules. But something had changed. He spotted Corvin near the command post, speaking in hushed tones with a few other senior militants. Their expressions were grim.

Gareth and Tomas approached him from across the courtyard, both wearing the same puzzled looks.

"What's going on?" Gareth asked, adjusting his bracers. "Feels like everyone's on edge."

Dan shook his head. "I don't know, but something's up. Vale didn't mention any changes last night."

"I don't like this," Tomas said quietly. "The last time things got shuffled around this quickly was back at the school, when that incident happened near the southern border. Remember?"

Dan did. The sudden change in routine, the hurried whispers—it was how they had learned about an ambush on a nearby patrol, something that had been covered up until the command needed to deal with the fallout. Whatever was happening now, it didn't feel like a simple logistical adjustment.

Before they could speculate further, Sergeant Vale strode out of the command post, his expression as hard and focused as ever, but Dan could see the tension in his movements. He motioned for the squad to gather, and quickly, militants from every corner of the outpost fell in, forming a line around him.

"There's been a change in plans," Vale announced, his voice steady but firm. "Due to new intelligence from our scouts, today's patrols are being reorganized."

Dan exchanged a look with Gareth and Tomas. New intelligence?

Vale continued, eyes scanning the faces of his soldiers. "Zone Six is no longer our primary focus for the next few days. We've received reports of increased bandit activity near the Iron Hollow, just beyond the Bracken Hills. Our patrol routes will be adjusted to focus on this new threat. Squad One will take the northwestern perimeter. Squad Two, you'll handle the Iron Hollow patrol directly."

Dan felt a knot tighten in his chest. The Iron Hollow was an area rarely talked about in the outpost, and for good reason. Situated deep within the wild lands, it was said to be a place where raiders and bandits gathered, a hub for those who preyed on the kingdom's vulnerable borders. But more than that, the veterans spoke of Iron Hollow with a kind of unspoken dread, as if the place held more than just the danger of bandits. Something else lingered there—a story, perhaps, but one no one dared to speak out loud.

"Iron Hollow?" Tomas muttered under his breath, his face growing pale. "We've heard enough about that place to know it's bad news."

Gareth grimaced. "Great. First the fog and now this. We really don't catch a break, do we?"