"Indolass is under attack. Unity ground forces have reached the outer perimeter of the Temple grounds. Pre-establish protocols are defensive and have been enacted. We are estimating a thousand hostiles, possibly more.

Bravo Company made first contact with the enemy, and Charlie Company, which is protecting the hill that overlooks the temple grounds, and has repelled a flank attack. Alpha is moving into reinforcing the bunkers. All non-combat personnel have been evacuated inside the mountain.

Since the first American battle at Indolass, the Temple has been rebuilt with double stacks and thick Hesco bastions, reinforced with a Bremer wall. Bunkers were incorporated into the structure, and the thickness allowed for a limited amount of lunettes on top of the walls for additional protection.

Since the first battle of Indolass, when the Minutemen, Rangers, and 4th ID moved to secure Salva and surrounding areas, the 1st Battalion and 146th Engineer Combat Battalion, 1st BCT, 1st Astralis Division, were deployed to take over security over the Alagore Bridge.

The Unity forces thrust against the Astralis Battalion, hoping to capture the Bridge or prevent any reinforcements from reliving Salva. For the Americans, 3rd Battalion, acting as a Quick Reaction Force, has been summoned to reinforce the Bridge, but, in the meantime, the Astralis warriors will have to hold until reinforcements arrive from Earth or 3rd ABCT, 4th ID can repulse the Unity back to the beach." – Oracle

April 19th, 2068 (Military Calendar)

Salva, the former Confederacy of Daru'uie

Nevali Region, Aldrida, Alagore

*****

Hiding behind a crumbling building, Captain Mathew Ryder switched his rifle scope to 2D mode. He eased the barrel past the splintered wood covering the concrete wall, scanning the intersection ahead. Dozens of Toriffa soldiers, the spearhead of J'avais City-State in Nevali, swarmed the area, their silhouettes stark against the smoke-filled skyline.

The Toriffa had breached the city walls first, exploiting the absence of fire support from the 1st LBCT, 4th Division, and 4th MDTF. Outgunned, the Rangers fell back into J'avais urban sprawl. From the undercity, the Knighthood of Tornlado struck, crippling critical infrastructure—city-layer defenses, street junctions—to choke any counteroffensive.

The American and Salva forces scrambled to respond, but Colonel Hackett refused to yield. Two Ranger Battalions, 1st Brigade, 4th ID, the Minutemen, and USAM support units fought to halt the enemy's advance and reclaim the city. The first step: stop the Toriffa from carving through J'avais heart.

Through a drone feed, Ryder watched the J'avais—stocky humanoids with sloping foreheads and robust frames—drag civilians from Evac Bunker-7, chaining them for transport. The abandoned middle wall had left the bunker exposed, and now its occupants were captives. For the J'avais, war was a savage thrill, not a grim necessity. Ryder's Comanche team could only imagine the fate awaiting the Salva prisoners.

"Why target civilians?" Staff Sergeant Forest asked, crouching beside Ryder. "There are bigger objectives."

"Because they're J'avais," Fraeya, the team's mage, replied. "My professors called them power-hungry. Greedy."

Natilite, the Valkyrie, knelt to reload her DMR. "They're Toriffa, not Verliance. As you Americans say, they're cashing their paychecks."

Ryder didn't need further explanation. What baffled him was the enemy's premature victory lap. History was littered with examples of victors squandering triumphs by looting too soon, giving the defeated a chance to regroup.

"I thought slavery was fading," Higgins sarcastically said.

"For the civilized," Natilite replied. "Not everyone shares that view. These humans think they're superior."

A Buffalo UGV, a van-sized drone armed with a 30mm cannon, roared past, followed by another supporting a Ranger platoon in a fierce firefight. A Toriffa crawler projected an orb barrier, deflecting the barrage. Two more crawlers—one with an accelerator, another with an elecprobus—engaged the drones. A Toriffa barricade erupted in flames, and the accelerator crawler exploded under a Ranger rocket. But the elecprobus crawler's energy blast obliterated a Buffalo light tank. The Rangers' assault faltered as Toriffa reinforcements poured in, and a massive projectile screamed past, targeting the second Buffalo.

The Rangers retreated, collecting their wounded, while Comanche provided cover. Platoons scrambled for whatever cover they could, sustaining the firefight. Then a Walker appeared—a four-legged tank slipping behind a building, priming for another strike.

"That Walker will shred any armor we send," Warrant Officer King said.

Ryder watched the Toriffa load civilians into groups for transport to the eastern breach. Time was running out.

Sergeant First Class Gregory Barrett slid beside Ryder. "Boss, the militia's planning a banzai charge."

Ryder's eyes widened. He spotted fifty militiamen massing for a reckless assault. "Are they insane? They'll be cut down in seconds."

"If it were my family, I'd charge," Forest said.

Ryder and Barrett exchanged a glance, conceding the point. Ryder requested cover and sprinted with King to the militia. He recognized Sergeant Ordlina-Wuruk, a hulking Nagal nicknamed Bigfoot, promoted by Hackett during the militia's professionalization.

"Stand down," Ryder ordered.

Ordlina met Ryder's gaze, his long black hair spilling past his helmet. "They're taking my people."

"Our people," Ryder corrected, emphasizing unity. "But a suicide charge won't save them."

"Alright, Duke," Ordlina said. "We can't just do nothing."

Ryder glanced at the Rangers prepping for another assault. A Lance eight-wheeler with a 30mm turret idled behind a building. It could punch through, but the Walker would destroy it first.

"Ideas, Rommel?" Ryder asked King.

"We flank the Walker," King said.

"They've got every street covered," Ryder countered.

"I know an underground path," Ordlina said. "From when I was a kid. It leads to a basement nearby."

"Then we hop buildings," King added. "Cut them off before they extract our people."

Ryder nodded. "That's the plan. I'll inform the Rangers. King, prep Comanche. Bigfoot, you and four others are with us."

To the remaining militiamen, Ryder said, "Hold until we flank, then advance with the Rangers."

The militia pounded their chest plates in solidarity, rallied by their "American Duke." A wood elf militiaman Ryder didn't recognize rallied the others before joining the Rangers.

As Comanche geared up, Ryder caught Natilite's gaze flickering toward the alley's vent, her wings twitching. "You good, Nat?"

"I…" She hesitated, eyes distant. "The tunnels. My wings—they'll catch."

Ryder nodded, sensing the weight behind her words. He'd seen her scars, heard whispers of the cell where her wings were shattered to break her Templar spirit. "Stay topside," he said softly. "We need eyes in the sky. If our Valkyrie disappears, the enemy might notice."

Natilite's shoulders eased, a faint smile breaking through. "Thanks, Matt."

Higgins jogged up, breathless. "Boss, Hackett's orders: Fraeya's needed at the Palace, now. Her geomancy's critical to shore up HQ—howitzers are pounding it."

Ryder frowned. Geomancy for walls made sense, but pulling his mage mid-fight? Something felt wrong. Still, with his daughter and the Council under Hackett's protection, he had to trust his mentor. "Fraeya, move out."

"I'll do what I can," Fraeya said before dashing off.

Ryder joined his team and Ordlina's five militiamen. They navigated the chaotic streets, where Rangers, 4th ID, and militia clashed with Toriffa and Aristocracy forces. In a narrow alley, Ford spotted two young elves—a brother and sister—hiding under a dumpster, trembling.

Ford and Higgins wanted to help, but King shut it down. "No time. Saving two risks losing hundreds."

"Diutius?" Barrett asked Ordlina in Latin. "How long to the tunnel?"

"Prope," Ordlina replied. Close.

At the alley's end, steam rose from a ground vent. Barrios and Wallace pried it open and tossed the cover aside. Wallace dropped in, splashing into water. "It's a sewer!" he groaned.

Ordlina followed, unperturbed. "If I'd told you, you'd have hesitated."

"How's a sewer getting us to a building?" King asked.

"I used to travel here as a kid," Ordlina said.

"Smuggling," Barrios said knowingly. "I recognize a ring when I see one."

"Does it matter if it gets us there?" Ordlina shot back.

"No," Ryder said. "Move."

The team slogged through knee-deep sludge, the stench biting. Battlesuits scraped the narrow walls, slowing their pace. A tremor rattled the tunnel, halting them. Ryder tensed, expecting collapse, but the shaking subsided, and they moved on, silent.

At a small, hidden door, Barrios squeezed into a basement. Up a short stairway, they entered a pantry. Screams—painful, terrified—echoed from above, mixed with laughter and a heavy thud.

Higgins fed a snake camera through the pantry door. The HUD feed showed six J'avais and two dwarves on the first floor—four in Toriffa armor, two in Aristocracy uniforms. The vampires hissed at the humans before leaving, prompting laughter. The scene was grim: a dozen Salva townsfolk, a mix of races, were terrorized. A J'avais soldier raped a woman while others forced females to dance provocatively, threatening further assault. Across the room, J'avais and dwarves bet on two male elves—a father and son—forced to box for amusement. The remaining captives huddled against the wall.

"What's happening?" Ordlina whispered.

"Evil," Forest said. "Rape and forced fighting."

"We stop them," Ordlina urged.

Ryder silenced him, fearing detection. He signaled the Twins—Wallace and Barrios. With hatred in their eyes, they stowed their rifles, slipped out, and shut the door.

"What are you doing?" Ordlina hissed. "People call you a false Duke. Letting this happen proves them right."

"I get it," Ryder said. "But rushing in risks our people in the crossfire."

King smirked. "In a bar fight, you send the brawlers first."

Chaos erupted outside—screams, shattering glass, and wood. An energy weapon fired, followed by a body crashing through furniture. Something heavy was dragged, then snapped.

At a knock, Comanche entered the wrecked store. Shelves lay broken, a dwarf slumped in the debris, a J'avais impaled on a pillar, another bleeding out, and a second dwarf unconscious. The Twins were pummeling a half-naked Aristocracy J'avais, his face swollen and bloody.

Gonzales tended to the civilians—males bruised from boxing, females struggling to cover themselves, all traumatized. Ryder watched the Twins' brutality. Normally, he'd stop such war crimes, but he let them continue a moment longer.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Gonzales," Ryder said. "We've got a job. Ordlina, assign one man to escort these people to a bunker. They can't wander behind enemy lines."

A wood elf militiaman armed the male civilians with Toriffa elecprobus weapons. Barrios and Wallace delivered final blows to the J'avais, tossing him to the floor before rearming.

"Upstairs," Ordlina said. "We can leap across and flank."

"Lead on," Ryder replied.

As they ascended to the apartments, energy blasts echoed below—citizen justice against the invaders. On the second floor, Wallace smashed through a window, leaping across the street and crashing through the opposite wall. Barrios followed, securing the building. Comanche and the militiamen jumped across, their Itlian exosuits aiding the leap, though the Twins caught the militiamen, whose armor lacked joint assists.

After crossing two more buildings, Comanche occupied the final one. Barrett and Forest set defensive positions. Ryder and King reached a third-floor window overlooking the plaza by Emergency Bunker-7.

The bunker was breached. Surviving American and Salva defenders knelt, subdued, as hundreds of civilians were herded out. Two transport walkers idled, loading prisoners. The accelerator Walker, using its crawling mode, fired its coil gun at Ranger positions before retreating to cover.

"Smart bastards," King said. "Plan?"

"Half the team stays here," Ryder said. "Barrios, take the accelerator. Wallace, Higgins, King, hold this floor. The rest storm the transports with me."

"We'll be overrun," King warned.

"We just need to distract them until the Rangers and militia break through," Ryder said.

King prepped the ambush while Ryder led his team to the ground floor. The lack of guards on the Toriffa flank was almost insulting, likely due to the earlier group's depravity. The enemy seemed more focused on looting than fighting.

The militiamen were restless, eager to strike. "Hold," Ryder ordered.

A rocket from the third floor obliterated the accelerator Walker. Seizing the chaos, Comanche and the militia poured out, firing on the stunned drivers and escorts. The militiamen killed without mercy.

A firefight erupted, Toriffa infantry targeting King's team. Ryder's group secured a transport and pressed forward, using debris for cover. Ryder fired his M31, but more enemies swarmed from the bunker.

"Natilite," Ryder radioed. "Requesting assistance."

No response. "Natilite, repeat, assistance needed."

"I… sorry… Matt," she replied, voice strained. "Occupied. Continue mission."

Confused, Ryder refocused as an energy bolt grazed his cover. Whatever held Natilite, it had to be critical. He joined Barrett, firing steadily.

"We're pissing them off, boss," Barrett said.

Toriffa forces abandoned their posts to counterattack, overwhelming Ryder's team. They fell back, but Ryder refused to abandon the civilians. Then explosions rocked the opposite checkpoint. A Lance roared into the plaza, Rangers flanking the Toriffa, catching them off-guard.

With the enemy pincered, Ryder signaled the advance. Comanche and the militia charged, King's team dropping from above. The Lance's 30mm cannon tore through Toriffa ranks, shattering their morale. The enemy fled under Ranger fire.

Ryder led the rush to the prisoners, cutting their chains. Freed defenders seized Toriffa weapons, forming a perimeter. As civilians embraced their rescuers, tears mixing with cheers, dragon and wyvern roars overhead reminded them the war wasn't over.

"Cowards!" Barrios shouted at the retreating enemy.

"So much for a warrior race," Barrett added. "Prey on the weak, flee the strong."

Ryder shared their defiance. This small victory proved they could push back. But Natilite's absence gnawed at him.

"Sir," Higgins said. "SOS from 1st Brigade HQ. It's under attack and at risk of falling. They need any available aid."

The silence froze Ryder's blood. He locked eyes with King, both sensing a deeper threat. Artillery jamming comms, maybe, tied to Fraeya's recall—but his gut churned, picturing his daughter at HQ. Something was wrong. Duty pulled him forward.

*****

The underground Palace shook violently, and Assiaya's heart pounded with terror. Her imagination raced, conjuring images of the chaos tearing through the city above. Though thick dirt and concrete muffled the gunfire, its relentless roar seeped through, a grim reminder of the battle threatening the Palace.

Dozens of screens lined the walls and ceiling of the underground command center, offering the only glimpse of the conflict. They showed Americans and Militia clashing with Aristocracy and Toriffa forces. Dragons and wyverns wove through the city, their flames lighting up the chaos. The Tornlado Knighthoods had crippled the city's defenses, leaving the Palace vulnerable. The American fort on the northern hill fired turrets into the sky, forcing dragons to land on rooftops where circletums targeted them. Vampires breached the northern gate but were halted by British reinforcements and Rangers on the fortified ridge. In the south, Astralis held a hill, securing the city's flank. But in the center, Kallem's forces had punched through, overwhelming the thinly stretched USAM defenses.

Assiaya overheard Colonel Hackett, the Minutemen's commander, sketching strategies on a digital table with his staff. Her amulet glowed faintly, translating her thoughts as she pieced together his plan: contain Kallem's army and reclaim the streets. The screens showed chaos, and fear gripped her—fear for her father's life. She scanned the monitors, desperate for a glimpse of him. Then she saw Comanche attacking a chokepoint near Emergency Bunker-7. Relief surged, tangled with thrill, terror, and pride as he fought off the enemy.

A soft but stirred voice in her mind, urging, "Speak, Princess. You must act." Assiaya hesitated, her heart racing. "I don't want to be a bother," she thought, unsure if the voice was her courage or something older, deeper.

Glancing at a monitor, she saw civilians fleeing breached city sections. Guilt gnawed at her. Touching her amulet, she spoke, "Colonel, there are people on the surface. Why aren't they underground?"

Hackett turned to the screen. "Captain Smith, what's happening at Evac Bunker-5?"

"Checking," Smith replied. "A thaumaturgy shell hit the entrance—hydromantic. The surface is encased in ice."

"Casualties?" Hackett asked.

"One MP and two civilians trapped in the ice," Smith said. "Fifty are stuck inside; the rest are outside."

Frustration flickered across Hackett's face, but his composure held. He ordered Army Engineers to clear the ice. The main screen showed firefights at an Aid Station, a Bola where Natilite battled Kiriyaks, and a siege at Evac Bunker-4. British and Japanese forces secured supply lines, but Assiaya's eyes stayed on her father's team, holding a barricade near the Palace.

"We are getting closer…"

A faint voice jolted her. She scanned the command center, but everyone was focused, none speaking to her. "Was that you?" she asked the voice mentally.

"No," it replied. "But I sensed it too."

Shrugging off the unease, she blamed her frayed nerves. Then it came again: "The command post must be nearby…" A chill ran through her. No one in the room was addressing her. Something was wrong.

Needing clarity, she slipped into the hallway, where guards, servants, and Council members hid. "What are you doing out here?" Ar'lya stood there, cradling a wounded Neko.

"Just walking," Assiaya said as a medic took the Neko.

Ar'lya's rodent-like eyes narrowed. "You know better than to wander alone during a siege."

"I didn't want to bother anyone," Assiaya replied, bowing slightly before continuing. She pressed her hand to the wall, focusing, hoping to hear the voices again.

"What are you doing?" Ar'lya asked.

"I'm not sure," Assiaya admitted. "I feel something and I'm investigating."

Ar'lya grumbled but followed, unwilling to leave her alone. The voice spoke again: "Remember when we saw inside the Ambassador's room through the door?"

"Yes," Assiaya thought. "Will it work again?"

"Why not?"

She stopped, pressed both hands to the wall, and closed her eyes. Her mind became clouded with fog and flashes of yellow-green light. A second pair of eyes seemed to detach, gliding through reinforced concrete and dirt. The dirt parted, revealing a tunnel where shadows moved. A glowing-tipped drill equipped with geomantic runes, carving the earth. Voices echoed, and a vampire's eyes met hers, chilling her soul.

The vision shattered. Assiaya collapsed, blood dripping from her nose onto her clothes. "Vampires!" she gasped.

Ar'lya scratched her head. "We're underground. They'd have to get past the Americans and goblins."

Mist seeped from the wall, enveloping them. A ghostly female vampire emerged from the steel-plated concrete. "I guess you were right," Ar'lya said, readying her spear. "Guards!"

The ghost's white eyes locked onto Assiaya. It raised its hands, forming a hazy sphere. The wall crumbled, revealing a jagged tunnel opening. A dwarf with a hammer stepped through, wearing Toriffa's armor, followed by vampires in matching gear. A geomancy mage, he'd turned the tunnels against them.

Among them was Iradiun Rostian, the Tornlado Knighthood's greatest commander—the one who'd captured her before, and her new Altaerrie father.

Ar'lya seized Assiaya's dress, tearing it as she pulled her down the hall. "Stay with me, Princess," she hissed, her eyes wide with fear—not for herself, but for the girl she'd sworn to protect. Rostian and his knights gave chase. One fired an energy bolt, striking the wall. Rostian snapped, "Don't risk the Princess!" confirming her capture was their goal.

They rounded a corner, blocked by a crowd of servants, diplomats, and staff. "Get out of the way!" Ar'lya yelled, shoving through as screams erupted and people scrambled for cover.

The Tornlado emerged, and panic consumed the crowd. A vampire grabbed Assiaya's arm, but a Minutemen guard shot him, pushing through kneeling civilians. The other hostiles took cover, letting Ar'lya and Assiaya escape. The guard fired again, a flechette grazing a vampire's chest, followed by an energy bolt that killed him.

Ar'lya reached a defensive line of guards. Pointing back, she shouted, "Aristocratia!" The soldiers hesitated, but the enemy's arrival sparked a close-quarters firefight.

The girls burst into the command center, where officers stood armed. Fear hung thick; no one expected the enemy here. "How is this possible?" voices muttered. "The first floor is ours!"

"What's going on?" Hackett demanded.

Assiaya rushed to him, amulet glowing. "The Knights who captured me are here!"

"How?" Ambassador West snapped. "Colonel, get us out!"

"The only way is that hallway," Hackett said.

"Colonel!" West protested.

"Shut up!" Hackett drew his sidearm. "Assiaya, stay with me."

A soldier stumbled in as another fell under enemy fire. Two vampires rushed past, firing. The staff returned shots. A Kiriyak with an enchanted shield absorbed 9mm and 6.8mm rounds. The shield shattered, but the horned warrior charged with an ax, cutting down a soldier and clearing a path for more vampires.

The Minutemen fought back, one guard killing a vampire. The Kiriyak advanced on West, who screamed. A guard rushed to her aid. Ar'lya fired a slingshot pebble, exploding near a vampire's armor, knocking him down.

The far wall folded open under the dwarf's geomancy. A vampire with a shield blocked bullets, securing the breach. Hackett pulled Assiaya behind the digital table, firing his M22. A second vampire took a 9mm round to the shoulder and fell, but another slipped through, taking cover among terminals.

The Tornlado Knights gained ground. One slammed Hackett against the wall. Ar'lya speared a hostile, but the vampire grabbed the weapon, tossing her aside. Rostian turned to Hackett, drawing his sword.

Assiaya leaped forward, raising her hand. "Hello, Rostian," she said.

"You remember," he replied, confused.

"Yes," she said. "Spare my friends, and I'll come quietly."

Rostian's grip on Hackett tightened, but his eyes flickered at Assiaya's words, a shadow of doubt crossing his stern face. She pressed on, voice trembling but firm. "I know your kind adopted the Katra, but you followed Tekali's path for most of your life. Show mercy to her children, and I'll follow. It's what Mother would wish."

He tilted his head, glancing toward the entrance as gunfire signaled approaching forces. With a low growl, he tossed Ar'lya aside, seized Assiaya's dress, and dragged her through the breach, his knights following.

*****

Ar'lya staggered to her feet, wincing as she rubbed her bruised neck, the lingering ache a reminder of the vampire's brute strength. She scanned the ravaged command center. The battle was over, but the cost was steep. The Princess was gone—taken.

The Headquarters staff were in disarray. Many lay dead; others nursed grievous wounds. Smith sat slumped against a wall, clutching her bleeding head. Howard, shirtless and bandaged across his chest, leaned over the digital table, grimacing from a flechette wound but still standing.

Ar'lya stumbled toward the magically carved breach in the wall, where the enemy had stormed through. Tornlado had sealed it, erasing their tracks. Two soldiers shoveled frantically at the rubble, but she knew it was futile. By the time they broke through, the enemy would be long gone.

A wave of failure crashed over her. She had sworn to protect the Princess, and she had failed. Rage surged, and she slammed her fist into the wall, the pain grounding her as she turned back to the command center.

Through the chaos, she spotted a Minutemen team—Vanguard—securing the Palace bunker's perimeter. Hackett stood at the digital table, ignoring the Combat Team medic tending to him as he pored over maps with cold determination.

To Ar'lya's disgust, the Ambassador fussed over her torn clothing, seemingly unbothered by the Princess's capture. Ar'lya's tail twitched in irritation as she approached Hackett.

"Colonel, the Knights have sealed the passageway. We can't pursue them."

"I know," Hackett replied, his voice icy. "How the hell did they slip past our defenses?"

"I don't know," Ar'lya admitted. Then a memory sparked. "But Assiaya—she knew. She said she heard them coming."

"Heard them?" West scoffed from nearby. "Please."

Ar'lya whipped around, glaring at the American woman. "I know what I saw. She was walking along the wall, her hand pressed against it."

West rolled her eyes and turned to her staff, dismissing the claim.

Ar'lya shook her head and faced Hackett again. "Do you want me to tell Ryder what happened?"

Hackett's gaze hardened as he studied the maps. "No."

Ar'lya froze, stunned. At that moment, Darnad Gratom, the Vagahm dwarf engineer, entered the room, adding to her confusion. "He has a right to know," she pressed.

"If I tell him now," Hackett said, "and word spreads, our front lines could collapse."

"I'm no soldier," Ar'lya countered, "but you can't keep this from him. He deserves the truth."

"I'm not lying," Hackett snapped. "I'm proving why he trusts me." He turned to Gratom. "How did the Aristocracy sneak through your tunnels?"

"Where was the breach?" Gratom asked.

Hackett briefed the dwarf, pulling up the breach point on the digital table. They cycled through maps, piecing together the enemy's path. The Aristocracy had likely used a hidden corridor near the Vagahm network, possibly with intelligence from Toriffa.

"Are you asking me to find this corridor?" Gratom said.

"No," Hackett replied. "That'll take too long. Just tell me where they're headed."

Gratom rubbed his chin. "Big ask. If I had to guess, they'd surface around this region. They'd need to stay close to coordinate their attack and bypass our tunnels."

"Good enough," Hackett said. "Kallem's invested heavily in capturing Assiaya. He'll want to see his prize himself. He'll be nearby." He turned to Ar'lya. "I hope you're ready."

Her ears twitched in confusion. "Ready for what?"

"You know these lands," Hackett said. "I need you to slip behind their lines and rescue Assiaya."

Ar'lya's jaw dropped. "Are you serious? Alone? I'll be slaughtered!"

"Not alone," Hackett said. "There's a corridor crawling with goblins. They're likely still there. I want you to lure them out, draw them into the enemy's rear. In the chaos, you grab the Princess. Once I stabilize things topside, I'll get you both out."

Ar'lya stood speechless. The plan was madness. Hackett wasn't just asking her to risk her life—he wanted her to use her body as bait to entice goblins, a race notorious for their savagery, in a suicidal bid to save Assiaya against one of Alagore's most formidable nations.

She noticed Hackett and Gratom watching her, waiting for a response. Her ears flattened, and she took a shaky breath. Assiaya's sacrifice flashed in her mind—the Princess who had given up her freedom, family, and royal status to protect a mere traveling rodent like her.

"I know what I'm asking," Hackett began, but Ar'lya cut him off.

"I'll do it."

The words stunned her. For years, she had always put herself first. She'd never hesitated to abandon others if the risk was too great. Bait for goblins? That was a death sentence, a reason to flee any party. Yet she couldn't refuse. Desperation had left them with no good options—only bad ones.

Relief flickered across Hackett's face. "Good. I've already sent for Fraeya to meet you at the generator. I told Ryder we need her to reinforce the Palace walls against artillery. That should keep him focused on the battle while you two save Assiaya. Gratom, get them to the river cavern."

The dwarf chuckled, hands on his hips. "I know just the way."

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