The next day and tension stretched thin across Vjerniskógur Outpost, the sharp, melodic blast of a horn cut through the sky, halting all activity. Heads turned toward the gates as the sound echoed like a long-awaited promise.
"Riders!" a lookout shouted. "They've returned!"
Soldiers abandoned drills, blacksmiths dropped hammers, and even the medics paused, all eyes fixed on the wide-open gates as Aelric, Mei-Ling, and their ragged band rode in, dust-covered but triumphant.
Aelric dismounted first, his boots hitting the ground with purpose. He turned just in time to catch Mei-Ling as she slipped from the saddle into his arms—a moment thick with unspoken words and shared relief.
Before Mei-Ling could blink, Jingfei was sprinting across the courtyard, nearly bowling over a startled guard. "MEI-LING!"
She collided into Mei-Ling with a force that sent both girls staggering, Jingfei's arms locking around her friend. "Thank the gods—you're safe, you reckless idiot!" Jingfei blurted, half-laughing, half-sobbing.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," Mei-Ling reassured, squeezing her tightly. "You're crushing my ribs, but... it's good to see you."
Jingfei pulled back just long enough to give Mei-Ling a once-over. "You better be fine. I swear, if you vanish like that again, I'll tie you to a tree—and not in a fun way."
Mei-Ling chuckled, wiping a tear from Jingfei's cheek. "No more disappearing. I promise."
At that moment, a blur of fur bounded from the crowd—Gui's keen nose having already found her scent. With a joyful growl, he leapt, his massive paws landing square on Mei-Ling's shoulders, nearly sending her sprawling.
"Gui!" Mei-Ling laughed, stumbling back as she scratched behind his ears. "You're heavier than I remember!"
"He's been eating for two... or three," Jingfei teased, ruffling Gui's fur. "We all worried. He nearly tore the gates down every night waiting for you."
Meanwhile, Lorianthel approached Aelric with a rare smile. "Welcome home, General, I kept them alive... mostly."
Aelric smirked, clapping Lorianthel on the shoulder. "That's more than I expected, honestly."
"Army's ready. Drilled, armed, pissed off. We're just waiting on your word," Lorianthel added.
Aelric gave a solemn nod. "We won't have to wait long."
Behind them, the rest of the battered company filed in—Feredis dramatically limping though he seemed perfectly fine, Hoki rolling her eyes, Miyx silent as ever, Fror and Gror already waving to anyone within eyesight, and Hattori and Honzo marching in step.
"Well look at this mess," Feredis announced loudly. "Surprised you lot didn't build a statue in my honor while I was gone."
"We did," Fror grinned. "It's the toilet"
Laughter erupted around them, the outpost breaking into cheers and backslaps. The grim weight that had hung over Vjerniskógur lifted—just for a moment—as comrades reunited and relief swept through the camp.
"Feels good to be home," Mei-Ling whispered, glancing at Aelric.
"It is home now," he replied quietly, fingers brushing hers.
For that fleeting moment, with the sun dipping low and the outpost alive with laughter and love, war felt like a distant shadow—waiting, but not yet here.
****
Mei-Ling sat quietly in her quarters, her legs tucked beneath her as she stared at the flickering candlelight. The long journey home had worn her thin, but it wasn't exhaustion that weighed on her now—it was what waited on the horizon. The battle loomed large, creeping into every quiet moment.
A soft knock broke through her thoughts.
"Come in," she called, her voice barely rising.
The door creaked open, and there was Aelric—hair tousled, shoulders tense—slipping in with a sheepish sort of smile. He said nothing at first, simply crossed the room and sat heavily on the edge of her bed, unlacing his boots with slow, distracted hands.
Mei-Ling watched him, heart twisting. "You're brooding again," she teased gently, sliding off her chair to sit beside him. "That's dangerous for a man your age. Might give yourself wrinkles."
Aelric huffed a weak laugh. "I'm too pretty for wrinkles."
But the smile didn't reach his eyes. He exhaled slowly, turning to face her, his hand finding hers, squeezing gently as if grounding himself.
"Mei-Ling..." His voice was low, serious. "No matter what happens... you have to stay safe."
Mei-Ling's lips curved in a soft, knowing smile. "I've come this far, haven't I? You forget I survived a prison break, a chase, and Feredis' cooking."
"I'm serious," Aelric pressed, his gaze searching hers. "If it turns... if I fall... or if there's no hope left—you must open a portal. Go back to your world. Promise me."
The words hit her harder than she expected. She stared at their joined hands, swallowing the lump in her throat.
"When I came here, is to find a new home," Mei-Ling whispered. "But then... I found you."
Aelric opened his mouth, but she held up a hand, silencing him.
"Let me finish," she insisted, her voice shaking. "You, your people—you became more than allies. You became my home. I won't abandon that. I won't abandon you."
She reached up, cupping his cheek. "If death comes, it'll have to face us both. Side by side. Till death do us part, Aelric."
For a heartbeat, he said nothing—then a soft, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips. "I should've known you'd be the stubborn one."
"You love it," she smirked.
"I really do," he breathed.
Their lips met—soft, tender at first, then deepening with the weight of everything unsaid. The world outside the door faded. Only the two of them existed—hearts racing, hands roaming.
Aelric's fingers found her sash, loosening it with slow precision. Mei-Ling gasped softly against his lips, her hands slipping beneath his tunic, tracing the lines of his back.
"We shouldn't..." Aelric muttered half-heartedly, only for Mei-Ling to shush him with another kiss. "I know. Let's do it anyway."
He chuckled, resting his forehead against hers. "Gods, you're going to get me killed."
"Not before I get what I want," she teased.
His lips found her neck, and for a moment it was easy to forget the looming war.
BANG BANG—a knock slammed into the moment like a war drum.
Both froze.
"Who the hell...?" Aelric growled, eyes narrowing.
"Message from Captain Lorianthel, sir!" came the muffled voice of the unfortunate guard. "Urgent! He requests your presence... immediately."
Aelric groaned, resting his head against Mei-Ling's shoulder. "Of course he does."
Mei-Ling stifled a laugh. "Maybe he sensed what we were about to do."
Aelric sighed, then called out, "Tell him I'll be there shortly!"
A beat of silence. "Yes, sir!"
Aelric turned back to her, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "We'll have to continue this later."
"How long do we have?" Mei-Ling asked playfully, mischief sparking in her eyes.
Aelric blinked—then burst out laughing. "You're impossible."
"You love that too," she grinned.
"I do," he admitted, leaning in to steal one last kiss. "I'll be back, Mei-Ling. You have my word."
"Good. Because I'm not finished with you yet," she winked.
Reluctantly, Aelric tugged on his boots and stood, glancing back at her one last time before heading for the door.
"If I don't come back soon, feel free to bar the door and finish what we started without me," he called with a grin.
"Don't tempt me," Mei-Ling laughed, watching him disappear with a heart still racing and cheeks still flushed.
For now, duty called—but their moment wasn't over. Not yet.
****
Aelric pushed open the office door, finding Lorianthel already waiting, hands clasped and that familiar smirk playing on his lips.
"Took you long enough," Lorianthel teased, eyes gleaming. "Thought maybe I'd have to come knock... but then again, it sounded like you were busy." He waggled his brows. "Mei-Ling still breathing, or did you kill her with affection?"
Aelric exhaled hard, biting back a grin. "Focus, Captain."
"I am focused. Just multi-talented," Lorianthel shot back, chuckling as he leaned forward, motioning to the map sprawled out on the table. "Alright, lover boy, here's where we stand."
Their humor faded as they pored over strategies, tracing possible troop movements, choke points, and fallback positions. The weight of the coming battle settled over them like a storm cloud.
Before Aelric could speak, a scout burst in, out of breath. "Captain! General! Enemy forces are on the march—southbound. They'll reach us by sunset tomorrow."
The air in the room thickened instantly.
"That fast?" Aelric muttered, knuckles whitening over the table's edge.
"Aye," Lorianthel nodded grimly. "And that means we're out of time for second guesses." He looked up. "Have we heard from the allies?"
"Ravens were sent. No replies... yet."
As if summoned by fate itself, the distant blare of horns rang through the air—a low, powerful sound that vibrated through the floorboards.
Lorianthel stood, cocking a brow. "Well... either that's our funeral march... or something just got interesting."
They hurried outside, squinting against the sun. What met them was not the enemy—but a breathtaking sight.
Banners snapped in the wind as an impressive force filed through the outpost gates—armor gleaming, cloaks billowing. At the center, riding tall, was Lord Branimir Emerikson, his expression grim but proud. Beside him rode the fierce Lady Mirna Branidóttir, and at their rear, the legendary Vedran Frostbinder—his silvered beard catching the light—as his apprentices flanked him, each clad in the sigils of the Wizardry Monastery of Snežni Nordtop.
Aelric exhaled, relief breaking across his face. "By the gods... they came."
Branimir dismounted with a grunt, striding forward. "We fight to the end, my prince," he declared, flashing a wolfish grin. "And if we die... well, at least we'll take a few bastards with us."
Vedran approached next, bowing with the ease of a man who bent for no one unless it suited him. "Prince Aelric. We stand ready. Command us as you will."
Before Aelric could respond, Feredis came sprinting out of nowhere, skidding to a stop in front of Vedran, eyes wide as saucers. "You're... you're Vedran Frostbinder! The Vedran Frostbinder! I've read every story... Well, the parts that weren't frozen solid in the archives."
Vedran arched a brow. "And you are?"
"F-Feredis Večnoson, sir. Lifelong admirer. Tried to enroll at the Monastery once but... uh... got distracted... by... ale. And women." Feredis scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Still... it's an honor! It's been my dream to train with the best."
Vedran's lips curled into a rare grin. "Survive this... and come find me. We'll see if you're worth the trouble."
Feredis gasped. "You mean it?!"
"I don't waste words, boy."
Grinning ear to ear, Feredis fist-pumped the air and launched into an awkward victory jig. "Hear that? I'm practically a wizard now! Suck it, Hoki!"
From somewhere in the crowd, Hoki's dry voice carried: "Yeah, sure. Wake me when you conjure anything besides disappointment."
Laughter rippled through the gathered soldiers—brief, but necessary. The tension eased just enough to remind them why they fought.
Aelric smiled, glancing at Lorianthel. "Maybe... just maybe... we've got a fighting chance after all."
Lorianthel grinned back. "Either way, it's going to be one hell of a show."
And with that, the outpost—once bracing for death—stood tall, their resolve fortified by the arrival of old allies and new hopes.