“I don’t think we’ll be able to hold, Commander,” the young man said, avoiding Frost’s eyes. Admitting defeat felt shameful, but Frost couldn’t blame the young man for his pessimism. They had been pushed back day after day, losing men and ground along the way.
The situation was grim.
By now, they had already retreated halfway through the tunnel leading to their sanctum, and their hastily built defenses were already crumbling. After this, only one line of defense remained before they would have to make their final stand.
Frost rubbed his tired eyes, looking at the young man standing before him. He was one of the newly promoted Elders—too many of them had been promoted lately. On the first day alone, two Elders had died, and in the two weeks that followed, they had lost four more. Their heirs had been ready to take their places, but only a handful had survived to see this day.
He’s not going to make it either, Frost thought, noting the nervousness of the young warrior. Two of his elder siblings had already fallen, and this was likely the end of their line.
“We’ll do what we must,” another voice interrupted.
Frost glanced at the speaker—Elder Claw, once the youngest among them, now one of the most senior. Claw stood up, his fierce gaze sweeping over the frightened men. It was a miracle he’d survived the first day, but the battles had hardened him. The boy he had once been was gone, reborn as a man and a warrior.
Elder Claw turned to face him. “Your orders, commander?”
Frost sighed as he rose from his seat. All eyes turned to him, but he no longer cared for the attention. He felt like a man twice his age, his steps heavy with the weight of exhaustion. He was weary... weary of sending his brothers and sisters to their deaths, weary of losing day after day, weary of this unending battle that gnawed at his very soul.
“The plan remains the same as yesterday. Conserve your strength, rotate the frontline frequently, and retreat when the poison becomes too thick.”
There were no cheers anymore—those had faded long ago. Only a chorus of half-hearted murmurs followed the announcement. The strategy meeting ended as it had the last few times, with everyone returning to their posts in low spirits. On their way out, the two outsiders, Ash and Gravitas, gave him a slight nod.
Technically, they weren’t supposed to attend this gathering, but no one objected. The followers of the human Mage had proven their worth time and again, and it was no exaggeration to say the tribe would have fallen without them. Their presence also boosted morale; their eyes still burned with strength and determination, a rare sight among the battle-weary men.
“They still hold hope that the human will come for them,” Elder Fang rasped from beside him, a trace of melancholy in his voice.
“I don’t begrudge them their faith,” Frost replied. “At least it gives them something to hold onto in these dark times. I don’t know what we’d do if they lost hope too...”
“Now that we are already on the subject...” Elder Fang started. “I had to take another 25 off the active roster. The poison's spread too far—they wouldn’t survive another fight.”
“How many does that leave?” Frost asked.
“About a third, but some of them are nearly as bad,” Elder Fang answered, his face pale and worn. He had been on the frontlines since the beginning, never missing a single battle. If you measured how much poison each tribe member had endured, Fang was likely the most affected. And yet, he still refused to take a break. No, it was more likely that he knew they couldn’t afford for him to take a break.
Frost nodded grimly. “If we survive today, tomorrow will be our last stand.”
Saying it out loud made the reality sink in—none of them would see the end of the week. His head slumped, and his snow-white hair fell forward, obscuring his view.
From beside him, he heard Elder Fang’s voice. “For what it’s worth, I’m certain your father would be proud to see the leader you’ve become.”
“Should we go ahead with the plan?” Gravitas asked after a moment of silence.
Ash grimaced. It was wise to act quickly, but carrying out their strategy felt like a betrayal to the tribe and the warriors they had fought alongside. “I think it’s best to wait until the end of the battle. Our leverage won’t go anywhere...”
Gravitas stared at him for a long moment, her gaze piercing. It was clear that she had seen through his feeble attempt to justify his decision. It wasn’t a smart choice; it stemmed from his reluctance to abandon the tribe. After a moment of silence, she nodded. “Very well. But don’t forget where your loyalties lie...”
After saying her piece, Gravitas marched off, likely heading to her designated spot in the defensive line. Ash remained where he was, a complicated expression on his face. Forget where his loyalties lie... As if he could.
Even now, he still felt the lingering compulsion of the Slave Ritual in his mind. Although it wasn't as strong as before, he believed it would be impossible to betray his Master—not that he wanted to. It was just... was it so wrong to want to save the tribe too? To not betray his new allies for a chance at survival?
Ash sighed. Ultimately, the decision wasn’t his to make. Even if he wanted to save the tribe, he couldn’t. The only choice left to him was whether to die with them or try to save himself when the time came. With that thought, his feet began to move again, and he soon found himself among the men.
“Ash!” somebody called to him. Even without turning his head, he knew who it was.
“Elder Howl,” Ash greeted the young man. It was the same person who had spoken during the gathering. Ash had known him for a while, long before he had become the Elder of his line. But he still addressed him with the proper title.
“That name sounds strange, coming from you,” the young warrior said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.
Ash smiled, feeling quite fond of the young man. Given just a few more years, he could have become a formidable warrior in his own right. However, life was seldom fair, and now the young Elder was expected to take on responsibilities far beyond his abilities.
“Do you think we’ll be able to drive them back today?” the young man asked, drawing several pairs of eyes in their direction. Ash sighed inwardly; the boy really wasn’t cut out for this. He needed to be a figure the men could look up to, a pillar of support. Instead, he still acted like a youth himself.
“Of course,” Ash lied. “The commander must have prepared something special for today. Don’t you see how confident he looks?”
Elder Howl, along with many others, turned to look at Frost, who stood elevated and easily visible. There seemed to be a strange new air about him. If Ash hadn’t been certain there was no such plan, he might have been fooled himself.
Elder Howl turned back to him. “Do you know his plan?” he whispered, though his voice was loud enough for the surrounding wolfkin to hear.
Ash shook his head. “It must be a secret.”
Elder Howl’s eyes widened. “Like the time he created a tunnel for us to get food?”
“Exactly,” Ash replied, though he didn’t feel his lie was very convincing. However, the men and women around them began to whisper excitedly. For those desperate enough, even the faintest rumor felt like an ironclad declaration.
As the young warriors chatted among themselves, Ash seized the opportunity to slip away. He didn’t want to answer any more questions; he had no answers to give and already felt guilty for lying to them. But telling the truth wasn’t an option either. ‘You are all going to die today’ wasn’t something he wanted to ever voice aloud.
He momentarily turned into mist and slipped inside a crack in the walls. There, he had previously found a spot that was big enough for him to fit. It would be his hiding spot. If he got lucky, he might catch another Pureblood unaware. In that cramped space, Ash waited, fiddling with his bone knives as he awaited the coming battle.