Will of the Battlefield

King Dorian Montgomery dreamed of war. Not the kind sung about by bards.

There were no glorious charges, no banners dancing beneath a clear sky, no triumphant horns.

Only corpses, thousands of them. Men wearing every color upon the continent.

Bentram crimson.

Drevlorn black.

Krynova green.

Murak gold.

Tharun’kai white

Khol Brown

Soland Yellow

Tataria Blue

Blood erased every banner until all kingdoms looked the same.

He walked through them alone, a crown rested upon his head, it was cracked.

Then all of a sudden, he felt pain. A burning sensation shot across his face.

His eyes snapped open. "...!"

His hand instinctively reached for his cheek.

Seven Blessed Lines stretched across his weathered face.

They were hot, not painfully so. Just... burning.

The sensation lasted only a heartbeat, yet in that single instant...

The old king’s heart pounded harder than it had in years.

He slowly rose from his bed. His breathing was measured, but his fingers had already clenched into fists.

Never, not once in his eighty years, had his Blessed Lines reacted on their own.

He strode toward the great arched window overlooking Bentram’s capital.

Outside, the city bustled beneath the afternoon sky.

Smoke curled from chimneys. Hasty stall owners ringing bells. Nothing appeared unusual.

Yet, his instincts screamed otherwise. The old king narrowed his eyes and pondered about every possible bad thing.

***

The same moment... Thousands of miles away.

Inside Handh, deep within Krynova. General Cameron Grant abruptly stopped reading military reports.

The parchment slipped from his fingers. His wife looked up. "Cameron?"

He ignored her. One hand slowly touched the seven black lines crossing his face.

His jaw tightened, his gaze drifted toward the western horizon.

"What is happening? Is this any type of blessing!"

The question died as soon as he asked, because he had no answer.

***

Farther east, within the fortified city of Weehri.

Mirza Murad Khan Bijarani sat before his familiar wooden strategy board. His fingers hovered over a carved stone piece.

Then his body froze, The old Khan slowly inhaled.nSeven Blessed Lines burned beneath his beard.

His smile disappeared. The generals surrounding him noticed immediately.

"My Khan?"

Mirza remained silent, he rose. Walked toward the balcony overlooking ninety thousand waiting warriors.

None of them understood why their commander suddenly looked concerned.

"...Delay tomorrow’s drills." Mirza ordered.

One captain blinked. "My Khan?"

Mirza never looked away from the distant horizon and muttered. "My heart is unsettled, something has happened that we can’t see now. I have a very bad feeling about it."

The officer asked. "Is it about the war?"

Mirza shook his head. "No, my heart is saying it’s something worse."

***

Across the continent. One after another, every Seven-Lined Blessed paused.

Some were praying, some were eating. Others were enjoying the luxury of life.

Each felt exactly the same thing, a brief sting, a strange pressure. An invisible hand brushing against their souls.

Jay Snow lowered the document he had been signing. "What the fuck was that?"

Jasmine Snow slowly placed her teacup onto the table before it slipped from her trembling fingers. "What was that?"

Even Sohrab... The brilliant strategist of Bentram whose expression rarely shifted, lifted his eyes toward the heavens.

No one understood. Yet every one of them shared the same unsettling thought.

Something bad was about to happen.

***

Meanwhile... Inside the White Forest, metals no longer rang.

The wolves had retreated. They were not defeated but retreated.

Garret noticed it first. The beasts backed away with tails lowered, not between their legs in fear of humans, but as though yielding to something far greater.

The alpha released a low whine before turning to run. The entire pack followed and none looked back.

Students erupted with relieved laughter.

"We won!"

"They’re running!"

"I told you we’d survive!"

Sky leaned against her sword, exhausted.

Rimon nearly collapsed from relief.

Conor wiped blood from his cheek. "Guess that’s enough excitement for one day."

Thane rested his axe across one shoulder. "Damn man,. I wanted another one."

Edwin laughed. "I believe you."

Not everyone celebrated. Evelyn quietly watched Thane.

Whenever he looked elsewhere, her gaze returned. When he glanced toward her, she instantly looked away.

A faint blush spread across her cheeks. She stared at the snowy ground with sudden fascination.

Thane scratched his head. "...She keeps looking."

Edwin sighed. "...Please pretend you didn’t notice."

"I didn’t."

"Very good."

Garret never smiled. His eyes followed the direction in which the wolves had fled. "That’s wrong."

Conor noticed immediately. "Master?"

"Wolves don’t abandon food." He slowly lifted both axes. "They especially don’t abandon wounded prey."

Nobody spoke. The forest had become unnaturally quiet.

No birds, no insects. Even the wind seemed reluctant to move.

The pale leaves above remained perfectly still.

Garret’s voice hardened. "We’re leaving. Immediately. Now."

No one argued. Something in his tone erased every complaint before it could form.

Students quickly gathered and witnessed that birds started running away from the forest in huge flocks.

Max frowned. "Master... why are they running?"

Garret didn’t answer, because he didn’t know.

The first shadow crossed the sun, everyone looked upward. Clouds, dark clouds.

They hadn’t been there moments earlier, they rolled across the sky with impossible speed.

Advancing at an unnatural speed. The light dimmed. Cold increased through the White Forest.

Snowflakes began falling despite it not being snow season.

Simon shivered.n"...This isn’t natural."

"No." Garret agreed quietly. "It isn’t."

He slowly scanned the forest. Every direction, every tree and every branch.

His grip tightened around his axes. Years of battle whispered against his instincts.

Danger, not beasts, not bandits. Something else. Something he had never encountered.

"...Move." He gestured toward the trail. "Stay together."

Nobody disobeyed.

Crunch.nA single sound echoed somewhere among the white trees.

Not loud, not threatening. Garret instantly turned but found nothing, only empty forest.

Another step, behind them. He spun again and again nothing.

Students exchanged uneasy looks. Sky whispered, "...Who’s there?"

Silence answered.

Garret eyes narrowed. "...Show yourself."

There was no response.

Even Thane started to become uneasy. His grip on the axe tightened. "...Pervert."

Garret replied without looking at him. "...What?"

"I don’t like this."

"Neither do I."

Those four words sent chills through every student.

Garret... The man who had laughed while surrounded by wolves.

Who treated danger like afternoon exercise, was admitting he didn’t like this.

Garret looked toward a cluster of pale birch trees.

His expression froze. One step, he unconsciously took a single step backward.

The movement was tiny, almost invisible, yet everyone saw it.

Because Garret... never stepped back, not in fear.

His pupils contracted. Disbelief slowly spread across his scarred face. "No... how is it ppssible?"

Conor immediately turned toward the same direction. "Master? I don’t see anything."

Neither did Sky.

Nor Simon.

Nor Max.

Only Garret stared.

As though someone or something. Stood between those trees, watching.

His voice came out hoarse.

"Ch-Children... don’t... look."

Naturally, every one of them looked anyway. The White Forest remained empty, only pale trunks.

Falling snow, shifting mist and nothing more. Yet Garret’s face had lost all color.

For the first time since any of them had met him. The battle-hardened veteran, looked frightened.

And somewhere deep within the silent forest, something laughed.

It was so soft, so distant, that no one could swear they had truly heard it.