CHAPTER 22: CHAPTER 22 - THE WALL AND THE FLIES.

The wall wasn’t just tall. It was wrong.

It rose out of the dirt like a scar, jagged and black, cutting off the northern horizon in one unbroken stretch. From far away, it might have blended into the night, but up close you could feel it—the air hit the stone, slid down its face, and came crawling back like cold water down your spine.

The guards at the northern gate hadn’t moved since it appeared. They just stood there, staring at it, as if waiting for it to fall on them.

Arren touched down without a sound, his boots sinking into grass still wet and stiff from frost. He didn’t say anything at first, just raised his hand and let his mana slide out in thin, clean arcs. Blue light traced itself across the surface, veins of frost crawling upward and outward like the wall itself was alive.

He narrowed his eyes. "...Tier-one earth magic."

Vaelen barked a laugh, leaning on his sword like he was watching a drunk tumble over.

"A tier-one wall? Don’t joke. It’s a hundred meters tall. Sealed the whole border. And you’re telling me a kid with chalk hands did this?"

Arren flicked him a look, just enough for his lips to twitch in something that wasn’t quite a smile.

"Not a novice. A two-circle mage would faint before they stacked even a tenth of this. No... this was done by someone who’s already past trivial circles. High-Adept, maybe even Expert."

The grin slipped from Vaelen’s face but came back sharper. "So, fourth or fifth circle." He rolled his shoulder, already reaching for steel. "Finally, something worth chasing."

One sword hissed out. Then another. His movements were quick, clean—like practice he didn’t have to think about. Four slashes. Each one clipped the air, and each one left a vibration you could feel in your teeth.

The wall groaned. A rectangle of stone split loose, tilted, and toppled forward with a crash that seemed too soft for its size.

"After you," Vaelen said, spinning his blade once before sliding it home.

They stepped through the gap together—and froze.

The forest beyond looked untouched. Still. Moonlight lay in puddles across the moss, and leaves shifted only because the breeze told them to. But there was no path. No snapped twigs. No crushed grass. No drag marks. Nothing.

"Impossible," Vaelen muttered. "They walked right through here. A whole mob. Yet—"

Arren crouched, running his fingers across the soil. Damp. Clean. Not even a hint of scuff.

"Magic," he said, voice low. "And not crude. Cloaking, suppression... displacement, maybe. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."

Vaelen rested a hand on his sword’s pommel, jaw tight. "So the wall wasn’t to keep us out."

Arren rose, brushing the frost from his gloves. "No. It was to blind us. Long enough for the trail to vanish."

The silence between them pressed heavier than the wall itself. Just the faint hush of wind through branches, the occasional drip of water from leaves.

"...So it comes to this," Arren said at last.

Vaelen exhaled sharply through his nose, annoyed more than anything. "A kingdom-sized forest and no trail. Perfect. We’ll be hunting ghosts."

"Ghosts or not," Arren said, cold and even, "we follow. Or we lose him."

Vaelen clenched his fists, anger and pride pulling in opposite directions. "We’ll have to tell Father."

Arren’s gaze cut to him, sharp. "No. By the time we ride back, his summons will already be waiting on our desks."

That landed heavy between them. They’d wanted this chance for themselves. Solve it before Father even stirred. Own the credit. But now...

Arren let out a soft breath and shook his head. "If only either of us had the tenacity to chase them through Rugurda." He turned, already walking back.

Vaelen froze. His brother’s words weren’t offhand—they never were.

’Tenacity...’

His eyes narrowed at the treeline. He could almost feel the forest watching back. He glanced at Arren’s retreating figure, then back to the dark.

"I’ll show you," he muttered under his breath. "I’ll show you who lacks tenacity."

He wasn’t turning back.

Arren, meanwhile, didn’t so much as look over his shoulder. A grin curled at the edge of his mouth. ’Good. Chase them for me, little brother.’

He walked through the wall and let it seal behind him, already thinking about the story he’d tell when the dust settled. He wouldn’t even need to lift a hand. He’d still win.

"Brains over brawn," he murmured, then rose into the air, robes tugging in the breeze as he drifted away from the periphery.

Neither of them realized how close the trail still was.

............

Two kilometers into Rugurda, silence pressed over everything.

No birds. No chittering. Only the staggered, uneven breaths of two hundred people and the shuffle of their feet through damp leaves.

Some carried children, clinging to their backs like tiny lifelines. Some half-dragged the elderly along, teeth gritted against exhaustion. Others just ran, eyes wide and hollow.

No one asked questions. They didn’t dare. Kael’s order was simple: north. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.

Anyone who fell behind... would stay behind.

A few had already realized this wasn’t just guidance. It was a test. Of what, they couldn’t say.

Then, a voice drifted down from above. Calm. Almost lazy.

"That’s far enough."

The crowd slowed, ragged steps stumbling to a halt. People bent double, hands on knees, gasping. Some dropped outright. Children cried softly into shawls.

They all looked up.

Kael hovered a dozen meters above, arms full of Rue and Rina like they weighed nothing at all. He waved idly, as if to nobody.

Beside him floated Alenia, Lyra, and Evethra, steady on currents of invisible power that swirled like a breeze too faint to feel.

Rue tilted her head, ears perked. "Um... big brother? Why do you keep waving? Are you swatting bugs?"

Kael looked at her, faintly amused. "No. Not bugs. Just... flies."

Her brow furrowed. "But flies are easy to kill."

The women beside him traded glances. They knew. He wasn’t talking about insects. Every time he waved, the forest seemed to stitch itself closed behind them—grass unbending, leaves settling, footprints gone.

He was wiping their trail, same as he’d raised the wall.

The "flies" were humans.

Lyra opened her mouth to hush Rue, but Kael chuckled first.

"Oh, yes. Very easy. I could squash them without looking. But..." He flicked his free hand with mock elegance. "It’s boring work."

He turned his head slightly, eyes glinting as they met Lyra’s. "Besides... some great person once said even flies deserve a chance to live."

Rue blinked, uncomprehending. Rina pressed her cheek against Kael’s chest and said nothing.

Below, the crowd shifted uneasily. They felt it—not the joke, not the warmth in how he held the girls, but something under it. The weight of someone who could end lives without effort... and still chose not to.

He claimed he wasn’t their leader. But in that moment, not one of them doubted who they were following.

The forest seemed to listen with them, waiting for his next word.

Then—

A sound. Heavy. Wrong. Not the twitch of a rabbit. Not the sweep of fox brush.

The ground buckled. Roots tore loose with a wet crack.

Something heaved itself out of the dirt.

Stone. Soil. Muscle. All bound together. It rose on legs like pillars, its body half-flesh, half-rock, amber lines glowing across its hide. Its shadow swallowed the crowd.

The children didn’t scream. They couldn’t. Their bodies locked up, tiny hands clutching desperately at arms and coats. The grown were no better. Not a step. Not a sound.

The creature’s jaw pulled open in a rumble, sharp canines flashing. The earth trembled under it.

Kael tilted his head, eyes narrowing just slightly.

"I almost thought you were dead," he murmured. No fear. Only mild curiosity.