The Road out of the village was no longer a road. It was a strip of gray ruin.
Ash coated everything. The dirt, the stones, the broken fence posts, the wagon rattled over it, iron wheels groaning with every turn, the sound carrying too far in the open air, like it was announcing them to whatever might still be watching.
Inside the wagon, survivors sat close without touching. A gray-hair woman stared at nothing. Two boys sat shoulder to shoulder, their faces pale enough to look carved from dust. Rain sat among them with the cracked bell resting in his lap, both hands wrapped around it as if letting go might make it disappear.
Theron walked beside the wagon, sword hanging low at his side. Gaze sweeping the fields with slow, deliberate patience. Every so often his gauntleted hand flexed-not nervously, but as if he were testing the weight of the air itself.
The younger boy beside Rain leaned closer and whispered, "Is it true they made us sleep with swords?". Rain didn't have the answer, and just stayed silent.
"Only if you snore". Theron said as he started laughing. "Hey...that's not funny". The boy froze- then grinned.
For a moment, the wagon didn't feel like a coffin.
"Are you thirsty?" Theron said. "Here."
Rain looked up. Theron held out a canteen and Rain took it carefully. The metal was cool, the water inside tasting faintly of ash and iron, but it soothed his throat enough that he coughed instead of choking.
"Heavy ?" Theron asked, nodding at the bell.
Rain glanced down at it- the crack along its surface, the way his fingers fit its curve too naturally.
"not really," he said. Then hesitated. " It's the only thing i had left, and its feel weird to just throw it away."
"Then keep it with you," Theron said. "Just don't let it slow you down."
The gray-haired woman finally spoke, her voice brittle. "Umm.. captain.. will they let us in? The gates."
Theron didn't turn his head." You don't have to worry about that. They opened for the worse."
The fields rolled past in silence. Black stubble where crops had burned. Stones fences knocked flat. Dead wagons half- sunken into the dirt. In the haze, shapes moved sometimes-too tall, too crooked to be men. Rain's spine tightened.
"Keep your head down," Theron said quietly. "and stay quiet".
By midday, they reached a checkpoint. Two soldiers leaned against a timber bar, armor scratched, eyes hollow. beneath a canvas awning sat a noble officer-posture perfect, cloak clean, boots untouched by ash.
He didn't look up, he spoke.
"Names."
Theron gave them calmly, then nodded toward Rain.
"Ardent." The officer's gaze lifted, flicking briefly to the bell.
"age?" A pause. " And put that thing down.'
Rain's fingers tightened. " Fourteen."
"Is that a bell?" the officer said flatly. " We're not short on those."
Theron stepped forward. "We're short on living," he said quietly ." The kid keeps it."
The officer studied him for a long moment, jaw tight, then turned back to his ledger and marked something down.
"From here to the gate." he said flatly, "stay in the center. Don't stop for anything. No matter what you hear. Even if it sounds like your mother-"
"..We don't stop," Rain whispered without meaning to.
The officer's mouth twitched. Almost a smirk. "At least one of you listens." The timber bar lifted and the wagon creaked forward.
Far ahead, the walls came into view- tall, scarred patched with mismatched stone. Old damage layered over new repairs. Flags are hung limps, their colors washed into gray.
Rain stared. "Is it always like this?"
Theron walked beside the wagon, "well not always, sometimes it's worse."
The wagon rolled to a stop. The silence that followed felt heavier than the ride itself. Rain climbed down, the bell pressed against his chest out of habit more than thought. The ground beneath his boots wasn't soft dirt- it was hard-packed, scarred with deep grooves and dents, like the earth itself had been struck again and again until it learned the shape of violence.
This wasn't just a yard. This was a place where people trained until the ground remembered them.
Ahead stood a row of low stone buildings, dark with age and soot. A black iron gate groaned open, its hinges protesting like they'd seen too many arrivals and too few departures. Above it hung a cracked wooden sign, most of the letters burned away. Only one word remain. LODGE.
Theron stopped beside him. For a moment he said nothing , eyes narrowed slightly as if measuring something invisible. Then he nodded once.
"Off you go." No speech. No reassurance. Just the words.
Behind them, the gray-haired women and the two boys were already being guided down a different path toward the city proper. Rain watched them disappear between the buildings.
The wagon felt empty without them. And not in a good way. Rain flinched as a sharp whistle cut through the air.
Across the yard, lines of trainees move in perfect rhythm, wooden staves slamming into the dirt in unison. The sound wasn't chaotic or wild, it was controlled, measured, like dozens of hearts beating as one.
At the center stood a man with dark hair tied tightly back, posture rigid as iron, hands folded behind his back as he paced along the line.
"we got new blood." he yelled. " Line him up with the rest."
Several trainees glanced toward Rain. Some were curious. Some were tired, and some already indifferent.
Theron placed a hand on Rain's shoulder, the grip firm and steady. "You'll hate it here," as he whispered. "but if you live long enough.. you'll miss it."
Rain didn't know how to respond. So he nodded. And just like that he was already walking away, back toward the gate. Toward whatever waited beyond it. Rain stood alone for a heartbeat, then he moved.
Near a stack of wooden staves, a girl with pale silver- white hair corrected another trainee's stance with precise, efficient motions.
"No.. you are too open, shift closer "she said calmly. "Like this."
The boy muttered, but he obeyed. Her eyes lifted briefly- not toward Rain, but to the bell, for a moment. Then she looked away like it was not a big deal. Rain didn't know why that unsettled him.
He picked up a wooden sword. The wooden sword was rough against his palms, heavier than it looked. Splinters pressed into his skin as he adjusted his grips.
The instructor's voice cut sharply through the yard 'Attention you maggots."
The trainees snapped straighter without thinking.
"My name is Lieutenant Kael," he said as he paced slowly in front of the line.
"you don't speak, You move when I tell you. That's the only rule you need."
"Now stand." Wood struck dirt in unison.
"Learn," Kael continued. "because ignorance gets you killed faster than weakness." The staves slammed down again.
"Survive," he said, as his voice hardened. " Not because you're brave. Not because you deserve it. But because someone beside you might."
Another strike. He let the sound settle. Then he smiled- thin, humorless. "Or burn."
Rain adjusted his stance a fraction late. Kael's gaze snapped to him immediately.
"Bell-boy," the instructor said. " If you're going to fall behind, do it fast. We don't carry corpses here."
Rain tightened his grip and lowered his stance, mimicking the others. "Good," Kael said flatly. "Now do it again."