"As the last of Barik's group disappeared into the trees, Elder Ruvio did not move. Then he said quietly to Faren and Thalen, 'It's time.'"(1)
And the story continues…
Earlier that day...
In the War Room, the heavy iron doors of the inner sanctum clicked shut with a finality that seemed to echo through the very bedrock of Haven. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of oxidized metal and the sharp, ozone tang of unrefined silver. The chamber was a tactical nerve center, a sanctuary of forbidden knowledge where the scattered remnants of the Old World met the desperate ingenuity of the new.
The deep silence of the inner sanctum was broken only by the faint, rhythmic whistle of the ventilation bores, ancient vertical shafts that pierced hundreds of feet through the bedrock to the surface. Above, a clever array of polished silver reflectors and angled mirrors captured the dying sun and funneled it down in pillars of pale, ghostly light that illuminated the maps and kept the subterranean air crisp and cool.
On one wall hung a series of tightly pinned sheets, yellowed pages copied from old books and salvaged manuals. They showed cross-sections of fortifications, layered ditches, dry moats, kill-channels, and reinforced embankments. Some diagrams were annotated in careful, modern script. Others bore older handwriting, faded but still sharp with intent, each a testament to the elders' foresight and the desperate need for protection.
They weren't the hand-drawn sketches of tribal builders; they were military-grade defensive designs meticulously copied from the "Ancient Books", relics of a time when men understood the geometry of slaughter.
Ruvio stood tall at the head of a massive slate table. He looked like a general, not a spiritual leader. Beside him, Faren and Lena waited, their faces illuminated by the flickering orange glow of oil lamps. Thalen remained near the wall, arms folded, as he often did when he was not meant to speak first. Two other core elders were present, their faces carved by years and by knowing when not to ask for comfort.
The Great Elder wasted no time. He pulled back the cover, revealing a topo map of Haven and beyond the Outer Gate. "It's time to implement the plan."
On the map, the most striking were the naturally formed channels, ancient, dry riverbeds that wound like skeletal fingers toward the Outer Gate of Haven.
Red crystals mapped out diverted channels, showing how they would be rerouted to feed a massive, deep-circuit moat. It was a highly thought-out plan, designed to use the mountain's own gravity to create a water-and-spike barrier that would turn the entrance into an island fortress.
"We've discussed this before," he continued, "what we do next must be visible to everyone, yet understood by no one."
He leaned over the map, tapping a finger on the perimeter. "If we start digging a military-grade moat, the spy will inform the Iron Order before we're done. They'll know we're expecting a siege."
"Haven has never needed such protection," Lena interjected. "If we fortify openly, people will ask why."
"They will," Ruvio agreed. "And if they know the truth, they will be afraid."
"Then we don't dig a moat," he said, his eyes glinting with a dangerous intelligence. "We dig a drainage diversion."
He looked at Faren. "Announce to all that we have detected a massive build-up of subterranean meltwater. Tell them the spring thaw is coming with a violence we haven't seen in fifty years. If we don't create a 'drainage diversion' to channel the water away from the lower residential sectors, Haven will drown in its sleep."
Ruvio turned to look at the drawings posted on the wall. The details showed cross-sections of "V-shaped" kill-zones, interlocking palisades, and sophisticated drainage systems designed to prevent the very flooding that Faren used as a cover story. They were plans for a siege, calculated to break the momentum of heavy cavalry and armored units.
He pointed to the specific angles on the plan, angles that were far too sharp for mere water flow. "The slope must be steep. Line the bottom with 'reinforcement' spikes; ostensibly to break up ice chunks and debris, but in reality, to snag the legs of horses and the treads of armored carriers."
Thalen emerged from the shadows. "And the excavated earth?"
"Used to 'reinforce' the outer wall against the pressure of the supposed floodwater," Ruvio declared. "To a casual observer or a traitorous eye, it will look like a village panicking over a leak. But when the Iron Order arrives, they won't find a flood. They will find a kill-zone."
Thalen agreed and muttered, "Workers will dig harder if they think their homes are at risk. Fear of water's a powerful motivator."
"We'll place more barricades with sharp-pointed stakes before the wall," he added. "For beasts, like the glassback that almost got in the other night." (2)
Ruvio nodded, straightened his back, his gaze turning toward the door as if he could see through the stone to the spy hiding in the village's heart.
"Let them watch us dig," Ruvio whispered. "Let them report that Haven is afraid of the rain and beasts. By the time they realize we were preparing for fire, it will be too late to turn back."
"Drainage diversion to prevent flood," Faren mused, a grim smile touching her lips. "Practical. Urgent. It explains the depth and the placement near the gates. No one questions a man digging a ditch to save his own bed from soaking."
"For irrigation," Elder Ruvio added smoothly. "And for storage protection. The lower tunnels have flooded before. We've lost grain that way."
"The upper greenhouses draw water from shallow channels," he elaborated. "So do the grain beds near the light shafts. When the rains are heavy, we lose soil. When they are light, we lose yield."
Lena's eyes narrowed. "And when it's deeper?"
Ruvio didn't answer directly.
"When it's finished," he said, "greenhouses will have steadier water. Grain stores will stay dry. Goat pens won't turn to mud. And people will sleep better."
"People will work faster if they believe they are protecting their staples and stores," Faren said. "Not their lives." That was the truth they would tell.
No one argued.
Ruvio's gaze swept the room. "Dig it fast. Wide, deep, almost impassable. Let the channels feed it."
"We begin today," he said.
The plan was set.
The war would come.
The tribe would be ready.
***
That evening, the Recovery Team was dismissed after Ruvio willed the "rewritten tales" into their minds. They walked out feeling lighter, memories scrubbed clean of the true ordeal. (3)
Instead of heading to the feast, Barik, Eris, and Kaylah were ushered through a lower, jagged corridor that led deeper into the inner sanctum—the War Room, where the core elders had an emergency meeting this morning. Legend within the tribe; only Core Elders and Thalen entered… until now. The three were the first "guests".
Thalen met them at the mouth of the narrow tunnel. The air here was noticeably cooler, the torchlight dimmer, and the silence so absolute it felt as though the very walls were listening, holding their breath.
The space opened into a broad, stone-vaulted hall whose walls were crowded with purpose. At its center stood a long, heavy table of dark wood and reinforced stone.
On the far side of the wall, there hung a sprawling map of the Greater Wastes, stretched from stone to stone, stitched together from many pieces of parchment, hide, and salvaged paper. It showed Haven Below not as the center of the world, but as a small, marked hollow amid enormous, broken lands. (4)
Ruins were sketched in dark ink: skeletal cities, collapsed highways, blackened industrial husks. Forests were rendered as spreading stains of green. Mountains clawed across the upper reaches in jagged lines. There were rivers with no names. Regions marked only with question symbols. Wide spaces left deliberately blank.
The three newcomers stepped closer and stood frozen, their mouths open in awe. Eris's hands were hovering over the map. His gaze fixed on the tiny dot that represented Haven.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
For their entire lives, the "World" had ended at the horizon of the hunting grounds. The map suggested an immeasurable expanse—a revelation. It showed ruins and vast, untamed lands they had never seen, revealing a world far larger and more dangerous than their daily hunts had ever suggested. It was an immeasurable world that would take months, perhaps years, to uncover, a world that held both promise and peril.
And it was theirs to navigate.
Barik's hand shook as he traced a line that extended far beyond their furthest patrol route. The scale was overwhelming. "We've been hunting in a backyard..." he whispered, his voice echoing the sheer amazement on their faces. "...while a whole world of ghosts has been watching us."
As the three were still in disbelief, Ruvio uncovered the table where the intricately detailed topographical map lay.
What bared to them drew the most gasps. The surface topography map is a miniature copy of the vast lands outside Haven Below.
Eris leaned in, Kaylah followed, mesmerized by the craftsmanship.
Every jagged peak of the Silver Ridge, every treacherous ravine, and every hidden gully was represented in perfect scale. Here and there, tiny metal markers and carved stakes showed existing tunnels, light shafts, storage caverns, and the outer gate. The natural channels that would feed the moat surrounding Haven's outer gate were highlighted by red crystals, shimmering faintly under the candlelight.
A wide, curved depression, still rough and unfinished, had been marked with pins around the approaches to the outer passages: the future path of the trench… or moat.
Anyone who stood at the table could see it at once: how rain and runoff would be guided, how water could be diverted, and see exactly where water would gather… and where it could be turned into a barrier to defend the settlement.
It was as if someone had taken the outside world and folded it into a weapon.
Barik, the most experienced among the three, felt a strange tightening in his chest. The diggings were not simple trenches. They were preparation for a siege.
The silence in the room stretched as they absorbed the truth. They weren't just protecting a village; they were standing at the edge of a vast, dangerous frontier that was finally waking up.
Thalen's gaze locked onto Eris, sharp enough to peel skin. Kaylah felt Eris tense beside her. The silver in him was quiet but alert, like a coiled spring sensing a predator.
Barik broke the heavy silence, his brow furrowed as he looked from the maps to the Elders. "The trenches… the ones being dug near the gate. They weren't there when we left."
Ruvio's gaze didn't waver, his silhouette cast long against the ancient subway tiles. "They were not."
Then, he let out a weary sigh, "The moat plan's been sitting on the shelf for ages; we kept pushing it aside. because some of the elders thought Haven didn't need a tighter defense. The glassback attack woke them up, and now, a looming flood pushed for action."
Kaylah's eyes snapped wide, "There will be a flood?" she asked, her voice trembling with the sudden weight of the word.
The Elder's gaze steadied, "The moat is to prevent a foreboding flood. A cover story… and yet a threat that may happen to Haven." He paused. "Defensive trench to channel water. Safeguard against a real threat that could swallow Haven whole."
Barik's eyes narrowed, "Real threat… from what?" He searched Thalen's face, but his father's expression was a grim mask.
Ruvio looked at Barik, his eyes reflecting the flickering orange flames of the hearth like twin embers. "We survived the wolves and the glassbacks today, Barik. We must be ready for a predator that doesn't hunt for hunger."
He turned to Thalen.
The latter stepped forward, his heavy boots echoing on the stone. "I scouted the north-eastern ridges; I went as far as the lookout crag to confirm a report." He paused, his voice dropping an octave. "Green Valley is gone, Barik. Burned out. Nothing but smoke and silence remains."
Eris and Kaylah exchanged a look of pure shock. Green Valley was a sister settlement, a peaceful trade partner only a few days' march to the north-east.
Barik's jaw tightened, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his knife. "By Shadow-beasts? A silver-storm?"
"No," Ruvio interjected, his voice heavy with a weariness that spanned generations. "By men. The Iron Order Tribe. They struck our neighbors hard. No warning. No negotiation. No survivors left to tell the tale but the ones who hid in the ash."
"The attack was a test," he continued, leaning heavily on his staff. "And a declaration."
On cue, Thalen pointed to a jagged, blood-red mark on the map. "The Order is expanding. They aren't just hunting for meat anymore; they are hunting for territory. They believe the silver veins in the earth, the very blood of the world, belong solely to those strong enough to take it. They see themselves as the 'Purifiers' of the Shard's legacy."
Barik shook his head, struggling to reconcile the news with the world he knew. "The Iron Order has stayed beyond the Iron Ridges for years. They kept to their own borders. Why break a decade of peace now?"
"Borders mean little to those who believe themselves chosen by the Sky-Fire," Faren replied, his voice bitter. "Their tribe expands where it wills. Faith justifies their cruelty; steel gives them the confidence to act upon it. They don't see us as neighbors, Barik. They see us as a harvest."
Barik frowned. "And Haven Below?"
"The Council received a forewarning from a trusted source—an attack, and the tribe must prepare. It was advice that couldn't be ignored. Like Green Valley, Haven Below is included on their map." Faren said.
Thalen continued, "Their camps are moving closer. Their patrols wider. And every report says the same thing: they are claiming land, not just passing through it."
His jaw tightened, "Their scouts were seen near the ridge."
The atmosphere in the War Room shifted from cold secrecy to the suffocating heat of impending conflict.
Barik's eyes locked onto the map, his voice barely whispering, "But other tribes barely knew of our existence. How…"
Ruvio inclined his head, his gaze locking onto the three.
"There's a spy in our tribe."
To be continued…