The cold mountain wind howled through the ruins of Oleg’s stronghold. The battle was over, and the four warriors stood in the aftermath, surrounded by the stench of blood and burnt wood. Oleg’s corpse lay where it had fallen, his grotesque, mutated form nothing more than a lifeless husk. His reign of terror had ended, but the weight of their victory pressed heavily on them.

  Kaavi exhaled, rubbing his temples. The lingering aftereffects of using his ability clung to him like a dull ache, not enough to cripple him, but a reminder of its cost. His fingers trembled slightly, but he willed them still. He couldn’t show weakness.

  Ilyas nudged Oleg’s corpse with his boot, shaking his head. “Hard to believe that bastard was human.”

  Danil adjusted his quiver, his sharp eyes scanning the ruined base. “We should leave before the scavengers come sniffing. The dead attract more than just crows.”

  Ren, still sore from the brutal fight, wiped the blood from his split lip. “Agreed. I’m in no shape for another fight.”

  Ilyas nodded. “Gather what we can. Weapons, food, medicine—whatever’s useful. Then we burn the rest.”

  They moved quickly.

  Scars of Battle

  The stronghold was a fortress of cruelty. As they searched the rooms, they found chains still bolted to the walls, dried blood on the floors, and rotting corpses left forgotten in corners. The horrors Oleg had inflicted on this place were undeniable.

  Danil ran his fingers over a set of crude tally marks scratched into the wooden walls—hundreds of them.

  “…How many people died here?” he muttered.

  Kaavi didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  By the time they gathered what supplies they could carry, the sun had begun to set, its pale light cutting through the mist-covered mountains.

  Ilyas set the torch to the ruined stronghold. Flames licked the broken walls, devouring the remnants of Oleg’s reign. Smoke curled into the sky, thick and dark.

  Kaavi watched as the fire consumed everything. He knew this was only one battle in a much larger war. But for now, this place would never serve as a den for monsters again.

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  Then, without another word, they turned and began their long journey back.

  The Path Through the Wilderness

  The journey through the snow-covered forests was long and arduous. The mountain air was thin, and exhaustion weighed on them all.

  Despite their victory, no one spoke much. The battle had left its mark—not just on their bodies, but on their minds.

  Ren moved slower than usual, his injuries making his normally effortless movements more laboured. Kaavi kept a close eye on him, but the assassin was stubborn. He refused to lean on anyone.

  Danil, always alert, walked at the rear of the group, his bow ready. “We should be careful. We killed Oleg, but there might still be stragglers in these mountains.”

  Ilyas nodded. “We’ll take the long way back. No risks.”

  They passed through thick forests, icy rivers, and narrow ridges, each step bringing them closer to the village where Viktor waited.

  Kaavi’s Thoughts

  As they walked, Kaavi felt his mind drift. The fight with Oleg had been… different. He had never fought something like that inhuman before. Oleg had been more than just a man—he was something twisted.

  And that worried him.

  Who gave him that power?

  Kaavi had felt something strange in Oleg’s mind before he died—a presence, a whisper, something unnatural.

  And then there was Viktor.

  Kaavi had done everything he could to protect the boy, but for how much longer? Oleg’s men had wanted both of them. Someone out there still had plans for Viktor.

  Kaavi clenched his jaw.

  No matter what happens, I won’t let them take him.

  Reunion

  By the time they reached the outskirts of Ilyas’s village, the sun had begun to rise, painting the sky in deep hues of orange and purple. The sight of the village—small, humble, untouched by war—was a welcome relief.

  They entered the village in silence, their clothes still stained with battle. People turned to look, whispers spreading among them.

  Before Kaavi could react, a small figure broke away from the crowd.

  “Grandpa!”

  Viktor.

  The boy ran to him, his emerald eyes wide with worry. His thick cloak flapped behind him as he rushed into Kaavi’s arms.

  Kaavi knelt, catching the boy in a firm embrace. Viktor was warm, solid—alive.

  “I’m back,” Kaavi said quietly.

  Viktor pulled away, his eyes scanning him. “You’re hurt.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  Viktor’s gaze flickered to Ilyas, then to Danil and Ren. “Did you win?”

  Kaavi let out a small chuckle. “Yes, Viktor. We won.”

  Viktor let out a deep breath, his small fists clenching at his sides. “I hate waiting. I wanted to help.”

  Kaavi placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Your time will come. But not yet.”

  The boy lowered his gaze, but he nodded.

  Ilyas’s wife emerged from one of the houses, relief washing over her face. “Thank the gods you’re all safe.”

  She ushered them inside, and soon, they found themselves seated by a warm fire, the weight of exhaustion finally settling into their bones.

  For the first time in what felt like forever, Kaavi allowed himself to close his eyes.

  The war wasn’t over.

  But for tonight, they could rest.

  And that was enough.