The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of burnt orange and deep violet as shadows stretched long across the Vigil base. The air was thick with the rich, savory aroma of Erin's cooking—a hearty stew that simmered in a large pot at the center of the wooden dining table. The rest of the squad had already gathered, their plates filled, the quiet clinking of utensils the only sound in the dimly lit room.
Then—a slow, tired creak as the door swung open.
Sage stepped inside, his usual sharp demeanor softened by exhaustion. He dragged a hand through his disheveled hair and yawned, stretching his arms overhead with a lazy groan. But the moment the scent of food hit him, his stomach growled audibly.
"Damn," he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Smells like heaven."
Without hesitation, Erin stood and filled a plate for him, sliding it across the table just as Sage slumped into his seat. The captain didn't bother with formalities—he dug in immediately, shoveling food into his mouth like a man who hadn't eaten in days.
The others exchanged glances but said nothing. They were used to this.
For a while, the only sounds were the crackling of the fireplace and the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate. Then—
Taro cleared his throat, his deep voice cutting through the quiet. "Captain. The meeting."
Sage paused mid-bite, chewing slowly before swallowing. He set his fork down with deliberate calm, though his eyes darkened slightly.
"Right," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Nothing too complicated. Just some… changes."
A ripple of tension passed through the room.
"Changes?" Regina arched a brow.
Sage exhaled through his nose. "We've been assigned to the Southern Wall. Sector Five."
Silence.
Then—
Garrett let out a low whistle. "That's… not good."
"Understatement," Lila muttered, her fingers tightening around her fork.
Sage leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over them. "The military stationed there can't handle the abnormalities of the wall anymore. They're getting worse. Stronger. More frequent."
Erin's stomach twisted. He had heard stories about the Southern Wall—how the breaches there were becoming more violent, how entire patrols had vanished without a trace.
"When do we leave?" Noah asked, his voice muffled by the sleeping bag he was somehow still half-inside.
"Thirty-five days," Sage said. **"Which means—"
"We train," Regina finished for him, her violet eyes sharpening. "Harder than ever."
Sage nodded. "Exactly."
He pointed at Taro. "You're handling Lila. Teach her how to apply her skills in actual combat. No more hesitation."
Taro gave a single, firm nod. "Understood."
Then, Sage turned to Regina. "Garrett's your problem now. Drill him on material composition. If he's gonna conjure weapons mid-fight, they damn well better hold."
Regina smirked. "Oh, he'll learn. One way or another."
Garrett groaned. "Great. More headaches."
Finally, Sage's gaze landed on Noah, who was already dozing off again.
"Noah."
A snore.
"NOAH!."
The man jolted upright, blinking blearily. "Huh? What? I'm awake."
Sage sighed. "You're training Erin. Make sure he doesn't die."
Noah stared at him for a long moment. Then, with a slow nod, he mumbled, "Yeah, yeah. No dying. Got it."
And with that, he slumped back against the wall, eyes already closing.
"Get stronger. Because whatever's waiting at the Southern Wall? It won't care if you're ready or not."
The moment Sage's words fell upon them, the air in the room turned to lead.
Silence. Thick, suffocating, pressing down on them like the weight of a tomb. For a full minute, no one breathed. The crackling of the hearth was the only sound, flames casting jagged shadows across their tense faces.
Then—
"Oh, come on," Sage groaned, slumping back in his chair with an exaggerated sigh. The tension shattered like glass. "You all look like I just sentenced you to execution. Relax. Dying's boring anyway."
Garrett blinked. "That's your pep talk? Dying's boring?"
Sage grinned, sharp and effortless. "Focus on getting stronger, and you won't have to worry about it. Simple." He pushed himself up, stretching lazily. "Training starts at dawn."
And with that, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
***
The night was vast, endless, the sky a tapestry of silver and shadow. Erin sat on the worn steps of the base, his fingers laced together, knuckles white. Above him, the stars burned cold and distant.
"Aria…"
Her name was a prayer on his lips. His elder sister
His throat tightened.
"I won't fail," he whispered, voice raw. The wind carried his words away, but the resolve in them remained. "I'll get stronger. Strong enough to protect you. To protect everyone."
A gust of wind howled through the trees, rustling the leaves like murmurs from the beyond. Erin's gaze flickered to the brightest star in the sky—the one his mother had once called "the guardian's eye."
"Mom…Dad..." His voice cracked. "Watch over me. I'll make you proud. I swear it."
The star glimmered, silent, eternal.
***
The courtyard was bathed in moonlight, the air crisp with the scent of dew and damp earth. Garrett sat on the edge of the training well, his dagger flickering in his palm—solid one second, gone the next.
His magic hummed under his skin, restless. It wasn't enough. Not yet.
Then—
A streak of light tore across the heavens. A falling star.
Garrett's breath hitched.
"Hey, Ma," he murmured, voice rough with memories. "I know I've screwed up more times than I can count. But this time… this time, I won't." He swallowed hard. "I'll be someone you'd be proud of. Even if it kills me."
The star vanished beyond the horizon.
A touch—cold, steady—settled on his shoulder.
"She already is."
Regina's voice was softer than he'd ever heard it. Garrett didn't turn, but his grip on the dagger tightened.
"You don't know that," he muttered.
Regina stepped beside him, her violet eyes reflecting the starlight. "I do. Because no mother watches her child fight so hard just to disappoint her." She tilted her head. "She sees you. All of you. The stubbornness, the recklessness… the heart."
Garrett let out a shaky laugh. "Since when did you get all philosophical?"
"Since I realized you needed to hear it," she said simply.
For a moment, they just stood there, two souls under the same infinite sky. Then Garrett exhaled, long and slow.
"Thanks, Regina."
She smirked. "Don't mention it. Ever."
They smiled then, small but real, the weight of the future feeling just a little lighter.
***
Inside, the base was quiet, the only sound the faint creaking of old wood settling in the night.
Lila lay in her cot, still as death, her chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. To anyone else, she looked peaceful. But those who knew her would see the tension in her frame—the way her fingers twitched, as if gripping an invisible blade even in sleep.
Her dreams were not of rest.
They were of battle.
Steel clashing. Blood on the ground. Enemies falling like wheat before the scythe.
A faint smile touched her lips.
Tomorrow couldn't come fast enough.