Garett stood iraining grounds outside the Castle Barracks, his breath steady despite the exertion. The space was a vast, open field of pacted earth, bordered by rows of wooden training dummies, on racks, and sparring rings. Lumierns hung from iron posts, casting a steady glow even as the sun began its slow dest. The air smelled of sweat, steel, and the faint tinge of magi prior training sessions. Soldiers and knights moved through drills in the distance, but Garett had cimed a more secluded er of the grounds for himself.

  His polearm cut through the air in a precise arc, the haft spinning effortlessly in his grip as he transitioned from oao ahe on—a training variant of his usual armame lighter, yet he executed each motion with the same measured trol he demanded in battle. The Azeroth Drive, hanging from a around his neck like a pendant, pulsed faintly as he attempted to el its power into his strikes. Energy crackled at the on’s edge, but the effect was unstable, flickering in and out of existence.

  Leona approached from the barracks, arms crossed as she surveyed the training grounds. She had been on her way to che the troops when she spotted Garett, and curiosity got the better of her. The sight of him training alone was nothing new, but the iy in his movements—and the fact that he was shirtless—caught her off guard. She had grown up alongside him, had sparred with him tless times before, but this was different. His physique had beore defined, eaent exuding a raw strength she hadn’t quite noticed before.

  Leona cleared her throat, snapping herself out of her thoughts. “Put a damn shirt on first.”

  Garett barely spared her a gnce, focused instead oing the Azeroth Drive. “Why? We’re training.”

  Leona groaned, rubbiemples. “Just… get det, will you?”

  Still oblivious, Garett sighed but relented, pulling on a loose training tunic before fag her properly. “You to spar?”

  Leona just gave him a wink.

  They armed themselves with wooden training ons—Garett with a long, reinforced training polearm, and Leona with a sword and shield. She activated her barrier magistinctively, a faint shimmering wall flickering ience around her before settling into a nearly invisible veil of prote.

  Leona’s bat style was a blend of her heritage. The Leonis sphasized defensive mastery, an imperable bulwark that allowed warriors to hold the line against overwhelming odds. Her shield absorbed ining attacks and stored kiiergy, which she could ter unleash in a devastating ter. Fenralis swordsmanship, oher hand, thrived oless aggression. It turhe shield into a on, creating openings through sheer ford breaking enemy formations with brutal efficy.

  Garett lunged first, his polearm thrusting forward with deceptive speed. Leona deflected the strike with her shield, feeling the impact ripple through her barrier before dissipating. She immediately tered, pivoting to close the distand ung a heavy downward ssh. Garett spun his on, using the haft to redirect the blow before stepping bato a defeance.

  Leona narrowed her eyes as she pressed forward, looking for an opening. Just as she prepared to go in for the finishing blow, a sudden shimmer in the air stopped her mid-strike. A translut barrier fred to life between them, abs her attack. Leona’s eyes widened in shock.

  “What—? Since when could you use barriers?” she demanded.

  Garett hesitated for a split sed before responding. “I… wasn’t sure if it would work.”

  Leona lowered her sword slightly, still catg her breath. “You could’ve told me earlier.”

  Garett shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d .”

  Leona scoffed. “Yeah? Well, now I want to see how it holds up.”

  She pushed faitacks ing sharper, faster. Garett reinforced his barriers between ters, the shimmering defenses flickering against the force of her blows. The more they fought, the more Leona analyzed his teique—not in a schorly way, but through raw experience. She could feel where his defenses were stro, where they wavered, and where they might break. Garett, in turn, adapted, refining his barriers iime.

  Finally, Leona poured her strength into one final, decisive strike. Garett, unwilling to back dow her head-on. Their ons cshed with immense forly for both wooden armaments to splinter apart in the same instant.

  A moment of silence huween them as the broken pieces cttered to the ground. Leona huffed, frustration evident in her expression, but she couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the er of her lips. “Damn it. That was supposed to be my win.”

  Garett exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “If you had gotten serious, it would have been.”

  Leona studied him, the out a relut chuckle. “Fine. I’ll give you that one. But ime, I’m not holding back.”

  Garett grinned, ining his head. “Looking forward to it.”Unbeknownst to them, a small crowd had gathered around the training grounds—castle soldiers, grizzled veterans, and green recruits alike, drawn in by the brutal dance of bat. Even a handful of servants li the edges, eyes wide as they stole moments from their duties. Some stood in the dirt, while others perched along the hs, murmuring wagers uheir breath. The air crackled with the raw energy of the duel, each ringing csh of wood against wood punctuated by gasps and muttered curses.

  Whech came to an abrupt end, a wave of rea rippled through the spectators. A few warriors cpped in approval, their eyes gleaming with respect for the dispy of skill. roaned in frustration, shaking their heads as they exged , cursing their mispced bets. A gruff sergeant spat into the dust, muttering about wasted steel and reckless form. Only then, as their breath still came hard and fast, did Leona and Garret bee aware of the gathered onlookers. The weight of dozens of eyes settled upon them, a silent aowledgment of the spectacle they had unknowingly provided.A bit embarrassed and exhausted, the two of them decided to take a break.As they sat on the edge of the training grounds, catg their breath, Garett turo Leona with a curious expression. “How do you cast your barriers and fortification spells, anyway? I’ve been trying to figure out the meics, but it’s not as straightforward as I thought.”

  Leona blinked, caught off guard by the question. She tilted her head, her brow furrowing as if she’d never sidered it before. “Uh… I don’t know. I just think about it, and the barriers just happen.”

  Garett stared at her, waiting for more. When nothing came, he raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? You don’t calcute the energy output or visualize the probability space? You just… think about it?”

  Leona’s face sched up as she tried to articute her process. Steam seemed to rise from her forehead, her skin flushing red as she straio expin. Her mouth even foamed slightly as she stammered, “I—I don’t know! It’s like… I want a barrier, so I make a barrier. That’s all there is to it!”

  Garett leaned back, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief. Internally, he couldn’t help but marvel at the simplicity—or perhaps the sheer audacity—of her approach. It seems the people of this world have gotten so used to magic that they bypass the sed step entirely: calcution. They ght from projeg their will into a probability space to colpsiy. No wo’s so insistent for me. I’m overthinking it.

  He couldn’t resist quoting one of the great physicists of his world, muttering under his breath, “As Einstein once said, ‘Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.’ Apparently, Leona took that to heart.”

  Leona shot him a gre, still puffing steam. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Garett smirked. “Nothing. Just admiring your… efficy.”

  She rolled her eyes, tossing a piece of broken training on at him. “Shut up, nerd.”—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------The afternoon sun shrough the tall, arched windows of the audience chamber, bathing the polished stone floor in golden light. Massive pilrs stretched toward the vaulted ceiling, their surfaces carved with ruhat shimmered with a faint, tent magic. Tapestries lihe walls, woven with the rich histories of the Verdant Vale, their silken threads whispering of past triumphs arayals.

  At the far end of the chamber, Garett sat upon the high seat, his polearm resting against the arm of his chair like a king’s scepter. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, swept over the gathered nobles and emissaries—each the colors and crests of their respective houses, each vying for his favor with measured words and careful p.

  The air was thick with inse and tensioions were made, grievances aired. Garett listened, weighing each argument with a patiehat Leona did not share. She stood at his side, arms crossed, her fingers drumming idly against the pommel of her sword. Courtly affairs were an exercise in tedium, a delicate dance of power that she had her the heart nor the stomach for. But she remained, ever vigint.

  At the chamber’s edge, he shadows where the sunlight faded, Lyra lihe weight of her pack pressed against her shoulder—a quiet reminder of her decisioime here was done. She had fought beside them, bled beside them, but duty called her elsewhere. Elderwynd awaited, and she could not dey any longer.

  Just as she turo leave, the great oak doors of the chamber crashed open.

  Gasps rippled through the hall as a nobleman stumbled inside, his face red, his breath ragged. His finery was soaked i, his boots caked in mud. Behind him, guards reached for their ons, but he waved them off, urgeched into every frantic gesture.

  “I beg your fiveness!” he rasped, bending in a hasty bow. “But I bring grave news. Elderwynd has fallen!”

  A hush fell, as if the room itself recoiled. Garett leaned forward, his expression sharpening into something cold and dangerous. “Speak.”

  The nobleman swallowed, his throat w around the words. “The town is gohe people… sughtered. Or taken.” His voice wavered, thick with horror. “And there’s something else.”

  At his signal, his aides wheeled a cart into the chamber. It rattled across the stone floor, covered by a heavy, bloodstained cloth. Whispers stirred through the crowd, uneasy and edged with dread.

  Lyra’s breath hitched. Elderwynd. Her home. She had just been there. Had spoken to the healer and the old dy who gave her the quest. This had to be a mistake

  With a sharp motion, the aides tore the cloth away.

  A collective gasp shuddered through the hall.

  The figure sprawled upon the cart was massive—easily twice the size of a man—encased in armor unlike anything they had ever seen. Ptes of steel and a darker, unknowal interlocked in a grotesque mockery of a knight’s regalia, its surface carved with ruhat pulsed with a sickly green light. The helmet, molded into the snarling visage of some horned beast, seemed to leer at them even ih.

  The noblemaated, then reached with shaking hands, wreng the helmet free.

  A wave of rot and magic rolled outward, thid cloying. A body y within the armor—a corpse of an ogre, its flesh pallid, eyes sunken, lips twisted into something that might have once been a scream. Faint tendrils of reanimation magic flickered across its skin, an unnatural, unholy shimmer.

  Garett’s stomach ched. He had seen marvels in his past life—maes that bent light, ehat harhe power of the stars—but this? This was an abomination. His eyes traced the tours of the armor, noting the yered pting, the underlying meisms. Whoever built this uood metallurgy and are fusion at a level that should in this world. He would have been impressed if he weren’t so horrified.

  Lyra staggered back. Her pack slipped from her shoulder, striking the floor with a dull thud.

  “No,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “No, this ’t be…”

  Nyx, perched on her shoulder, nuzzled against her cheek, its feathery form warm and reassuring. “Lyra,” it murmured, voice curling softly in her mind. “Breathe. You are not alone.”

  But her world was unraveling. The people she had sworn to protect… gohe weight of it pressed down on her, crushing, suffog.

  Garett rose from his seat, his expression carved from stone. He stepped down from the dais, each footfall eg through the silent chamber. Leona was at his side in an instant, her hand ched around her sword’s hilt.

  Garett studied the ogre’s armor, his gaze dark and calg. “What is this?” he demanded.

  The noblemaated. “We found it at the ruins,” he said. “There were others… but this one was different. It ahem. And the magic—” his voice faltered, “—it is unlike anything we have seen.”

  Garett reached out, fingers brushing the metal. The runes fred in respohrumming with power. He drew his hand back sharply. “This is more than reanimation magic.” His voice was quiet, lethal. “This is something worse. Someone is fusing dark sorcery with teology.”

  Lyra’s head snapped up, grief warring with fury. “Who would do this?” she demanded. “Who could be so—so monstrous?”

  The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. This was no mindless sughter. This was calcuted. Purposeful.

  And if Elderwynd had been targeted, then nowhere in the Vale was safe.

  Garett turo Lyra, his gaze steady. “We will find them,” he vowed. “And we will end this.”

  Leona stepped forward, eyes burning with resolve. “This doesn’t stop with Elderwynd. We o move. Now.”

  The room erupted in shouts. Fear. Panic. But Garett’s voice cut through the storm like a bde.

  “SILENCE!”

  The hall fell deathly still.

  “I, Vist Garett Von Fenralis, Warden and Protector of the Vale, Firstborn Son of Duke Alden Fenralis, swear to find whoever did this and to make them pay.”

  His voice rang through the chamber, final and unwavering.

  Lyra wiped the dampness from her cheeks, sorrow hardening into steel. She would not run. Not now.

  “I’m staying,” she said, her voice steady.

  Nyx fluffed its feathers, eyes gleaming with determination.

  Garett nodded, approval fshing in his gaze. “Then we march.”