The rock under my boots crumbles with every step, sending small cascades of gravel skittering down the slope like whispers of warning. We're climbing higher now, Helix threading its way up this jagged spine of mountain that separates the forested hills from the raw canyons beyond. It's not as treacherous as the Sinwade mountain range back near the Academy that carves a brutal natural divide between Avrael and Trola, where one wrong footfall means a slide into oblivion or a snap of bone against unyielding granite. But this? This is no stroll either. The path if you can call it that is a narrow goat trail etched into the mountainside, slick with evening dew and littered with loose shale that shifts like traitorous sand. One misstep, and you're tumbling into the void below, where the pines stab up like spears waiting to impale the careless.
Darkness has fallen fully, a thick blanket that swallows the world in shades of indigo and black. We've been pushing for days now; three, maybe four, the hours blurring into a grind of march, camp, march again. My muscles ache in that familiar, dull way, but I ignore it. The others do too.
The full moon tonight was providing just enough illumination to see by, but shadows pool in every crevice and depression. Normal humans would be forced to stop, make camp, wait for dawn.
But Helix isn't normal.
We move through the darkness like ghosts. Imara's density manipulation lets her alter her own weight, making climbs that should be impossible merely difficult. Lopez's kinetic reinforcement means he can leap gaps that would leave others stranded. Sola drifts on air currents, scouting ahead and finding the safest routes as well as transporting the Markless soldiers when needed. Although even they have been trained for this. They move with practiced efficiency, ropes and climbing gear deployed where needed, supporting each other through the worst sections. Ivy had all the gear needed in her pack. We left the horses behind two days ago. Found a sheltered area with good grazing and enough water and left them. The terrain became too steep for mounts.
Now we're maybe ten miles from Baelin. Close enough that Caldera has called a halt, gathering us on a relatively flat section of mountainside where we can observe without being observed.
I pull myself up onto the ledge where the rest of Helix is assembled and take my first good look at our target. And despite myself I am impressed.
Baelin is... magnificent.
It's built into the mountain itself not carved into it like some dwarven stronghold from children stories, but constructed along and across the natural geography. The city occupies a massive canyon, maybe 150 feet deep and half a mile across, that cuts through the mountain range like a wound.
Platforms of weathered wood and chiseled stone jut from the walls, connected by a web of bridges that crisscross the void like spider silk. Some are rope and plank, swaying faintly in the night breeze; others are solid stone arches, carved by hands long dead or marks of power I can't guess at. Torches flicker along the spans, casting orange glows that dance on the abyss below. Houses cling to the ledges timber frames with slate roofs, some stacked precariously like children's blocks. The whole city is surrounded by a ring of fortified stone wall at the canyon's rim, with watchtowers spaced at regular intervals. Gates on the east and west sides provide access—the eastern gate where we're positioned would require approaching through the mountains like we're doing. The western side, if you looped behind the mountain range, opens onto plains with massive bridges descending from the canyon rim down to ground level.
It's not as flashy as some of the architecture I've seen. The Imperial Palace in Lusa for once puts this shame. But this... this is something else. This is raw human engineering and determination. Someone looked at this impossible canyon and decided to build a city anyway. To make the treacherous geography work for them instead of against them.
Caldera moves up beside me. He's been quiet during the climb, conserving energy, but now he surveys Baelin with the same calculating gaze I'm using.
He gestures to me, then points up the mountain face. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper. "I want you to go up more. Around the city. Check the plain area on the west side."
I nod, understanding immediately. We need intelligence on approaches, on how the city connects to the surrounding terrain, on potential escape routes or reinforcement paths.
"Little bit of scouting," Caldera continues. He jerks his head toward Sola, who's perched on a boulder nearby. "Take her too."
I stand, brushing dirt from my cloak. Then gesture her over. The motion draws Sola's eye; she approaches, her steps light, wind mark making her almost float over the uneven ground. I activate Fearmonger before I speak.
The world shifts immediately.
All the warm tones the faint orange of distant torchlight in Baelin, the natural browns and greys of stone in moonlight, the subtle colors that distinguish night from true darkness drain away into pure greyscale.
Everything becomes shades of black and grey. The canyon becomes a slash of absolute darkness. The bridges appear as thin grey lines against that void. The buildings are geometric shapes in varying tones, sharp-edged and clear.
And my emotions... disappear.
The faint awe I felt looking at Baelin's engineering gone. The exhaustion from days of travel irrelevant. The lingering mortification from Lucian's teasing earlier vanished. Man I love this feeling. I should use my power more.
My thinking accelerates, analytical and cold. The city below becomes data points: bridges as chokepoints, platforms as vantage for archers, the canyon as a natural kill zone.
"We're scouting," I say flatly. My voice sounds hollow even to my own ears. "Up the mountain. We'll wrap above the city to stay out of sight."
Sola salutes a sharp, professional gesture and moves to my side immediately.
"Ready when you are, sir," she says quietly.
I point up the mountain face, to where the terrain becomes even more vertical. "That way. Keep us high enough that normal scouts won't spot us."
"Understood."
She places one hand on my shoulder and I feel her Gale mark activate. Wind swirls around us, gentle at first, then building in intensity. My feet leave the ground as she manipulates the air currents, creating a cushion of controlled wind that lifts us both.
We rise into the darkness.
Flying with Sola is always disorienting. There's no sensation of falling the wind holds us securely—but every instinct screams that I should be plummeting to my death. I've done this a few times now that I can suppress the reaction, but it has yet to become comfortable.
Wind howls around us, a controlled vortex, as we shoot upward, the mountain face blurring as she propels us in a wide arc, hugging the rock to avoid skylining against the stars. The air whips cold and thin, biting through my cloak, but with Fearmonger active, it's just sensation data, not discomfort. Below, the rest of Helix shrinks to specks, vanishing into shadow as we climb.
Twenty minutes pass in calculated silence. Sola adjusts our trajectory mid-air, gusts buffering us against sudden downdrafts. We crest the rim, landing on a precarious ledge a few thousand feet above the city which is clearly high enough to be invisible to markless patrols, the footing up here however is a nightmare of loose scree and jagged outcrops not meant for human boots. No paths here; the mountain seemingly rejects intruders. I crouch immediately, balancing on the balls of my feet, enhanced vision piercing the dark like a blade. With the Fearmonger active, mFy vision is enhanced far beyond normal human capability and even other Awakened who have not dove into their soul sea and unlocked their understanding of full potential. I strain my awakened senses, pushing them to their limit, and the distant landscape crystallizes into sharp focus.
The plains spread out below like a map. Flat farmland, divided into neat squares by irrigation ditches and property lines. A few scattered buildings farmhouses, barns, storage structures.
And a village.
It sits at the base of the mountain, maybe a mile from where the massive western bridges descend from Baelin's canyon. Small. Maybe a hundred buildings total. Mostly wooden construction with thatched roofs. A few stone structures that might be a church or town hall.
The village appears to be primarily farmland support. Most of Baelin's actual population lives in the canyon city itself, but they need agricultural production to survive. This village provides that farmers who work the plains and send food up to the main city via those bridges.
I scan methodically, Fearmonger boosting my senses. Details crystallize: a farmer's cart abandoned by a fence, wheel askew; a dog barking faintly at shadows; lanterns in windows flickering like wary eyes. Nothing out of place at first. Then, deeper in the village, near the base where the great bridge descends from Baelin...
I frown. A flash of anger pierces the suppression quick, hot, then damped down to cold analysis. Tents. Military tents, clustered in the village square
Federation markings on the banners eagle and crossed swords, fluttering in the wind. Soldiers: 50 to 70, by my count. Camped openly, fires banked low but visible, weapons stacked in neat rows. Sentries pace the perimeter, armor glinting. They're not hiding.
Midnight Rose is supposed to be a terrorist organization. Outlaws. Rebels operating in the shadows, striking targets and vanishing before response can be organized. But this means they all know. They have to know. You can't have a company of enemy soldiers camped at your doorstep without being aware of it.
They're not victims of Midnight Rose's presence. They're complicit. Every single one of them is complicit. The whole damn city.
I sneer, lips curling in calculated disdain. My hand goes to the amulet activating it,
"Caldera. This is Daath."
A moment's pause, then Caldera's voice appears in my mind, carried by the amulet's magic. "Report."
"I'm on the western approach in an elevated position overlooking the plains and farmland. Baelin has Federation military presence. Fifty to seventy soldiers, full company strength, camped at the base of the mountain inside the village. Permanent encampment, not a patrol. Potential of extra enemy Awakened here"
Silence for a few heartbeats. Then: "You're certain?"
"Yes, I have confirmed visual. The federations banner and standard Federation tents and equipment. They're settled in, they have been here for a minute."
Another pause. I can almost hear Caldera processing the implications.
"Assessment?" he asks finally.
"Baelin and everyone inside are complicit traitors," I say flatly. "The civilian population has to know about the Federation presence. The city's supporting them. This isn't Midnight Rose operating independently this is full collaboration with the enemy from the cities leadership all the way down to soldiers sworn into the Empires service."
"Acknowledged."
The connection cuts.
I remain crouched on the ledge, continuing to scan the plains below. Now that I know what I'm looking for, more details emerge.
The Federation soldiers have established a proper defensive perimeter. Earthwork barriers on the camp's northern and southern edges. Clear sight lines to the bridges leading up to Baelin. Sentry posts positioned to cover all approaches.
They're not just camping here temporarily. This is a fortified position meant to last.
Which raises questions. Why position troops here? What are they defending? What's their mission?
Possible answers scroll through my mind:
One: They're protecting Baelin from Imperial attack. The city is serving as a Federation outpost deep in contested territory, and these soldiers are its garrison.
Two: They're securing the agricultural production. The farmland feeds the city, and the city feeds the Federation war effort. These troops ensure that food keeps flowing.
Three: They're guarding something specific. Maybe Teleb is more important than we thought.
Either way it's a fucking pain and makes our job harder,now we're not just hunting a terrorist leader and his organization. We're potentially engaging with an established Federation position that has logistical support from an entire city.
Eleven operatives against an unknown number of Midnight Rose members, plus fifty to seventy Federation markless, plus whatever portion of Baelin's civilian and Imperial guard population is actively hostile.
The math is not encouraging.
I continue my scan, looking for any other relevant details.
The bridges connecting the village to Baelin are massive structures—stone and timber construction, wide enough for wagon traffic. There are three main bridges that I can see, each descending from the canyon rim down to ground level. They'd be defensible positions, easy to hold against assault.
The village itself is largely dark—most civilians are sleeping. But I can make out movement around the Federation camp. Sentries changing shifts. Someone tending the fires. The normal activity of a military encampment.
Nothing suggests they're on high alert. No increased patrols, no signs of preparation for imminent combat. They feel secure here. Protected.
That confidence might be their weakness.
Sola moves up beside me, her own eyes scanning the plains. With her aerial perspective and experience, she's probably seeing things I'm missing.
"Thoughts?" I ask quietly.
She's quiet for a moment. "The camp's well-positioned. Good sight lines, defensible perimeter. But they're too confident. Sentries are maintaining regular patterns, no random variation. If we wanted to infiltrate, we could predict their movements."
I nod. She's right. Professional soldiers maintain discipline, but that discipline creates patterns. And patterns can be exploited.
"And the Federation troops?" I press.
Sola's expression hardens. "We kill them. All of them."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Lieutenant Colonel looks up as we land, his expression unreadable in the darkness. The rest of Helix gathers around Lopez, Imara, Vihaan, Lucian, the markless soldiers.
As I land he nods to me and says "Strategic Command's intelligence suggested Midnight Rose was operating independently. But since they have Federation military support, integrated with the civilian population..."
"It's not a terrorist cell," I finish. "It's an enemy stronghold."
"Exactly." Caldera looks around at Helix, meeting each person's eyes in turn. "Which means we're not just hunting one target anymore. We're conducting a full assault on hostile territory."
"What are our orders?" Vihaan asks, his voice eager despite the grim situation.
Caldera is quiet for a long moment, thinking. Then: "We proceed as planned, but we adjust tactics. Primary objective remains the same capture Teleb, and eliminate Midnight Rose leadership. But now we add a secondary objective: neutralize the Federation presence."
"All of them?" Imara asks.
"All of them," Caldera confirms. "We can't leave enemy troops at our backs. And we can't let them reinforce the city when we hit it."
Vihaan's smile widens. "So we're killing everyone."
"Anyone who resists," Caldera corrects, though there's no real conviction in the distinction. We all know how this will play out.