Ilyas’s Home – The Quiet Before the Storm

  The fire crackled softly, casting flickering light across the small room. Viktor sat near the hearth, his hands wrapped around a wooden bowl of broth, though he barely tasted it. Across from him, Nadiya fidgeted with her half-carved wooden hawk, her small fingers tracing the unfinished wings.

  Alina watched them both from where she stood near the table, arms crossed. “You won’t sleep, will you?” she asked.

  Viktor shook his head.

  Alina sighed and sat down across from him. “Then you might as well eat.”

  Viktor obediently took another sip of broth, though his mind was elsewhere. His grandfather was out there in the dark, walking into danger. He imagined Kaavi moving through the trees, his sword ready, his senses sharp. He imagined the bandits—waiting, unaware of what was coming for them.

  Nadiya broke the silence. “Do you think they’ll be back soon?”

  Viktor set his bowl down. “Not for a while.”

  Nadiya hesitated. “What if something happens?”

  Alina’s gaze sharpened. “They’ll be fine.”

  Viktor didn’t answer. He just kept staring at the fire.

  A Few Miles Away – Shadows in the Forest

  The night was deathly still. Kaavi crouched low in the underbrush, his breath slow and controlled. The bandits' camp lay ahead, barely visible through the trees. Dim torchlight flickered against the crude wooden carts they had stolen, casting long, twisting shadows across the clearing.

  Beside him, Ilyas knelt, a dagger in each hand, his eyes locked on the two nearest sentries. The bandits were relaxed—one leaned against a tree, chewing on a strip of dried meat, while the other warmed his hands by the fire. Neither had their weapons drawn.

  “They’re sloppy,” Ilyas murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Kaavi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Overconfidence breeds weakness.”

  Ren was already moving—silent as the wind, his steps perfectly placed to avoid snapping twigs. His dark figure melted into the trees behind the first sentry. The bandit didn’t hear a thing until Ren’s arm locked around his throat, yanking him backward into the darkness. There was a single muffled choke, a sharp crack, and the body went limp.

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  The man by the fire didn’t notice.

  Kaavi and Ilyas struck at the same time.

  Kaavi stepped from the shadows in complete silence, his movements controlled, precise. The second sentry barely had time to widen his eyes before Kaavi’s blade plunged into his ribs, angled upward, piercing his lung. The man shuddered, his mouth opening to scream, but only a wet gasp escaped. Kaavi lowered him gently to the ground as the life drained from his eyes.

  Ilyas had been faster. His dagger was already buried to the hilt in the third sentry’s throat, his free hand clamping over the man’s mouth. The bandit kicked weakly, his body convulsing before going limp.

  Three men dead in complete silence.

  Kaavi pulled his blade free and wiped it against the dead man’s tunic.

  Ilyas exhaled. “Still got it, old friend.”

  Kaavi didn’t respond. His focus was already shifting deeper into the camp.

  The real fight was about to begin.

  The First Strike

  They moved like wraiths through the shadows.

  The camp was small—no more than a dozen men, their stolen supplies stacked in rough wooden crates around the fire pit. The bandits were gathered in a loose circle, laughing, drinking, unaware of the danger closing in on them.

  Kaavi gestured silently. Danil and Ren split off, positioning themselves at opposite ends of the clearing, bows in hand.

  Ilyas tapped Kaavi’s shoulder. “Pick your targets.”

  Kaavi scanned the bandits, his mind calculating. The leader—evident by his finer armor—sat near the fire, his back to a large crate. Two men beside him were deep in conversation. Another was sharpening a rusted blade. A fifth stood near the supply cart, stretching his arms.

  Too many to take in silence.

  Kaavi made his decision. He lifted two fingers.

  Two arrows.

  Across the clearing, Danil and Ren saw the signal.

  A moment later, two arrows sliced through the night.

  The first struck the man by the cart directly through the throat. He collapsed instantly, his blood pooling beneath him.

  The second arrow buried itself in the ribs of the man sharpening his sword. He let out a strangled cry before slumping sideways.

  The camp erupted into chaos.

  “What the—?!”

  “Get up! We’re under attack!”

  Kaavi and Ilyas moved.

  Kaavi surged forward, his blade flashing in the firelight. He reached the nearest bandit—a bearded man fumbling for his weapon—and drove his sword deep into his stomach. The bandit’s breath hitched as Kaavi twisted the blade, then yanked it free in a spray of blood.

  Ilyas was already on the next one. He grabbed a man by the back of his collar and slammed his dagger into his kidney, then again into his throat, pushing the body aside like a discarded rag.

  A bandit swung wildly at Kaavi with a heavy axe. Kaavi ducked under the blow, feeling the rush of air as the weapon missed by inches. Before the man could recover, Kaavi stepped in close, driving his knee into the bandit’s stomach, then brought his elbow down on the back of his skull. The bandit crumpled, barely conscious. Kaavi finished him with a swift stab to the heart.

  Another bandit lunged at Ilyas with a sword. Ilyas sidestepped, parrying the attack with his dagger before slashing across the man’s exposed wrist. The bandit howled, clutching his ruined arm. Ilyas didn’t give him a chance to recover—he drove his dagger up into the man’s chin, silencing him instantly.

  The leader drawing his sword and barking orders. “Get them, you fools! It’s just a handful of men!”

  Danil put an arrow through the throat of one of his men before he could even move.

  The leader’s eyes widened. He took a step back. “Shit.”

  Kaavi turned toward him, blood dripping from his blade.

  The leader’s hand tightened on his sword, but there was hesitation in his stance now. The attack had been too fast. Too brutal. Half his men were already dead.

  Ilyas smirked. “Still think it’s just a handful of men?”

  The leader snarled. Then, without warning, he turned and ran.

  Kaavi didn’t chase. Not yet.

  Instead, he wiped his blade clean and turned to Ilyas. “That was the easy part.”

  Ilyas sighed, shaking blood from his dagger. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

  The remaining bandits had fled into the trees, disappearing into the dark. The camp was theirs.

  For now.

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  Back at the Village

  Viktor sat by the fire, staring at the door.

  He didn’t know why, but his gut told him something is wrong...