43. Responsibility
Chapter forty-three
Responsibility
The meeting time came and went.
No soldiers arrived.
No ambush.
No sign that the information was ever passed on.
Nothing.
It is as if the spy saw right through our trap.
Ash leans against a stone pillar, arms crossed, looking more annoyed than anything. “Well, that was a waste of time.”
I try to push down the frustration building in my chest. “Maybe they didn’t take the bait. Or maybe we were wrong.”
Zander exhales sharply. “Or maybe they’re just playing a longer game than we are.”
We have nothing. No leads, no answers. And yet, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching, waiting, feeding the king exactly what he needs to stay one step ahead of us.
Frustration gnaws at me, the weight of our uncertainty pressing down in every corner of my mind.
The spy remains elusive, the looming threat just as indistinct.
Despite all our efforts, every extra hour spent preparing, every scrap of information we piece together, we are still no closer to understanding what is coming.
And the worst part? We have no way of knowing if it will even be enough.
That night, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts spiraling.
I go over everything I know, or at least, everything I think I know.
But it is the things I don't know, the gaps in my understanding, that fill me with a sense of suffocating dread. It isn’t just the looming threat.
It is the creeping, insidious realization that we might not be strong enough to face whatever is coming.
That we, myself included, might not be enough.
I wish Oberon were here. I wish he were on the right side of this mess, standing beside me, or at least I wish I knew where he was. I have no idea what he is doing, where he stands, and that uncertainty is killing me.
His last words echo in my mind, the last time I saw him. The feelings they stir are like a weight in my chest, threatening to tear me apart.
And then, there are the memories of the last war.
Memories I worked so hard to bury, only for them to resurface now, creeping past the defenses I carefully built over time.
I fight against them, but the pain, the doubt, it is all too real.
I try to push it away, but it is part of me, one I accept and face, a constant reminder of where this all began and how far I have come.
I toss and turn, the bed feeling impossibly large and empty. The hours drag on as I wait for the sun to rise, hoping that a new day will bring some clarity. Even then, a part of me knows that another day of uncertainty lies ahead.
The next morning, when I find Zander, it is clear that his night was likely as restless as mine. Yet there is something in his eyes, a kind of determination, that I can’t ignore.
He stepped into the role of leader effortlessly, and it suits him. The other Fae respect him, and I can’t deny that I admire him, too.
He is standing in front of a small party of rebellion soldiers when I approach, catching the tail end of his orders.
“Here are your maps, marked with your targets. Do not engage. This is recon only. Gather information and get back here by the end of the day. We can’t afford to have too many gone at once. ”
The soldiers nod in unison, take the maps, and hurry off without another word.
“What was that about?” I ask, stepping up to him.
“We need to do more,” Zander replies, his voice low but firm.
“I’ve sent them to monitor the king’s movements and check old routes Oberon used. We need any piece of information we can get on this attack.”
“Where’s Ash?” I ask, hoping for some distraction from the whirlwind of my thoughts.
“He’ll be going with them,” Zander says. “It’s the only way to cover all the routes and still be back before sunset.”
He begins to walk away, and I rush to catch up, stepping in line beside him.
“I want to go,” I demand, my voice edged with frustration. “I can’t keep waiting around here. I’m going mad.”
Zander looks at me, his expression unreadable. He studies me for a long moment before responding, “You’re needed here.”
I roll my eyes, a sharp retort escaping my lips. “You sound like Oberon,” I snap, harsher than I intend.
Zander stiffens slightly, his eyes narrowing, but his voice remains even. “That is not the insult you mean it to be.”
I ignore his comment, desperation creeping into my voice. “Give me something to do,” I plead. “I need to feel like I’m helping. Like I’m making a difference.”
Zander’s gaze softens, though his expression remains serious.
“You are more valued than you realize,” he says quietly, before continuing. “But if you insist . . . I’m sending another small scouting party out beyond the walls. Stealth will be key. We can’t risk being seen, but we need to know if there’s more out there that we may have missed.”
“I’m in,” I say, my eagerness betraying me.
Zander shoots me a sidelong glare but gestures for me to follow him as he leads me to another small party waiting near the gate.
As we approach, I take in the unusual group Zander has assembled.
A tall wood Fae, looking as solid and unmoving as the trees themselves.
A beautiful, slender female I haven’t seen before, her sheer clothes flowing elegantly with every step.
And a shorter, stockier male who doesn’t seem particularly impressed by anything, his sour expression the only indication of his mood.
Zander turns to the group, giving them the briefing. “Lyra will be leading this mission,” he announces, his tone firm but not unkind. “She’s been debriefed, and you are to follow her lead.”
I blink in surprise at the sudden responsibility he thrust upon me.
Zander gives me a brief nod before turning to the group. “Be back by dusk, and under no circumstances are you to be seen.”
The soldiers nod, all except for the smaller male, who simply grunts in response.
“Let’s move,” I say, my voice steady despite the rapid thumping of my heart. This mission is mine to lead, and I feel the thrill of purpose settle over me.
As we step out of the gates and into the open terrain beyond the ward’s protection, I immediately feel it, the shift in the air, the subtle but undeniable change in the magic that has been so familiar to me.
The weight of the wards has been lifted, leaving an eerie stillness behind.
I can feel the pulse of something ancient and wild beyond the barrier, something that is no longer tethered by the protections we have relied on.
I lead the way, my boots crunching softly against the dry earth as I move ahead, followed closely by my small but skilled party.
Each one of them was chosen for their stealth, their ability to blend with the environment, and move unseen. They are the best at what they do, and I trust them with this mission, though the weight of the responsibility settles heavily on my shoulders.
The wood Fae, tall and sturdy, walks silently beside me. His appearance almost melts into the landscape, like he has been part of it for centuries. His long limbs and textured bark-like skin allow him to vanish among the trees, his presence barely even noticeable. His name is Kaelen.
Beside him is Vaella, the tall, slender female who moves like a breeze.
She is ethereal, with skin that seems to shimmer in the dappled light, almost translucent.
At times, she appears so delicate, so insubstantial, that she seems to fade into nothingness entirely.
Her ability to disappear is unparalleled, and I don’t doubt that if it comes down to it, she could vanish in plain sight.
The third member of our group is Jorik, a stocky, short male whose gruff demeanor doesn’t match the quiet grace with which he moves.
His heavy frame is often at odds with the speed of his steps, but he is surprisingly nimble for someone who appears so cumbersome.
He keeps close to the ground, using rocks and fallen branches to hide his movements.
The way he stays hidden in plain sight makes him invaluable to the mission.
Each of them blends into the landscape in ways I could never replicate.
I watch as Vaella drifts through the trees, her movements a blur of grace, while Kaelen’s long limbs stretch to reach higher branches with barely a sound.
Jorik is close to the ground, his eyes sharp, always looking for cover as he darts between stones and the undergrowth.
I can’t help but feel out of place. Every part of me feels loud, the crack of twigs beneath my feet too obvious, too out of sync with the effortless stealth of the others.
I have grown accustomed to blending in with the rebellion, to fighting with strength rather than stealth. But this is different.
Still, we continue on, moving deeper into the hills and forests.
The landscape around us is wild and untamed.
The trees are thick with moss and vines.
The further we go, the less the world feels like the place we just left.
The forests here are older than anything I have known, and the land seems alive with its own pulse.
We move quietly, tracking the terrain as we venture through the wilderness. But despite our vigilance, we find nothing: no signs of movement, no strange sounds, no evidence of the enemy’s presence. There are no creatures, no signs of life except for the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind.
The stillness begins to gnaw at me. We expected something, anything. But there is nothing out here. It feels almost too quiet.
Finally, I stop in the middle of a small clearing, the shadows of the trees stretching long across the ground as the sun dips lower in the sky. I turn to my team, the faintest hint of frustration rising within me.
“We’ve found nothing,” I say softly, my voice breaking the silence that wraps around us. “No signs, no movement. I don’t know if this means we’re too early, or if we’ve missed something.”
Vaella, who has been the most distant of the group, seems to drift closer. Her translucent eyes study me, her voice almost a whisper, “Perhaps nothing is here.”
Jorik grunts, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Could be that they’re waiting for us to make a mistake,” he mutters. “We shouldn’t be out here for too long.”
Kaelen says nothing, but his gaze sweeps the surrounding trees, sharp and knowing. His quiet presence is a reminder that we can’t afford to lower our guard.
“We’ll move further out,” I decide. “We can’t risk missing anything. If they’re waiting for us, we need to find out what they’re planning.”
We press on. The forest stretches endlessly before us, and the feeling of doubt still lingers in the corner of my mind.
As the sun begins to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the dense forest, we make our way back toward the stronghold.
The journey has been eerily quiet. Despite every step, every corner turned, we found nothing.
The woods remain still, the air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth, but there is no sign of the enemy. No movement at all.
We move with the same quiet precision we maintained all day.
By the time we reach the stronghold, the sky is streaked with the last hues of pink and purple, the cool night air settling in. The group is as silent as when we left, their expressions indecipherable.
Vaella moves with her usual grace, her ghostly form barely visible in the fading light. Kaelen, the stoic wood Fae, is always a step ahead, his sharp eyes scanning every movement in the trees. Jorik keeps to the shadows, his usual grumble replaced by a pensive quiet.
As we approach the gates, I can hear the soft clang of metal against stone, the familiar sound of the guards standing at attention.
Zander is waiting for us when we arrive, his arms crossed, his eyes scanning the group as we approach. He looks as though he is expecting something more, and the disappointment on his face is evident.
“We found nothing,” I say, my voice strained with frustration.
Zander’s jaw tightens. “Nothing?”
I nod, feeling the weight of his gaze. “No signs. No movement. It is like . . . nothing is out there.”
Vaella, ever the silent observer, speaks up. “Perhaps it is a test. They could be waiting for us to lower our guard.”
Zander’s eyes narrow at her words, but he doesn’t comment. Instead, he turns his attention back to me. “You did well,” he says, though his tone was not as reassuring as it should be. “But the silence is worrying. We can’t afford to ignore that.”
Zander and I break away from the small group I led through the woods, our footsteps echoing softly as we make our way back to the stronghold.
“Has the other party made it back yet?” I ask, trying to break the silence.
Zander glances at me, his expression blank, before giving a brief nod.
“Did they find anything?” I press, my concern tightening in my chest.
He slows his pace, falling into a thoughtful rhythm as he brings his fingers to his chin, as if the answer lies somewhere in the air between us. For a moment, I wonder if he is simply buying time to figure out how to break the bad news.
“No. Nothing,” he says at last, his voice as steady as always, though there is an edge of frustration hidden just beneath. “They should have found something. There were no signs that the enemy’s army was anywhere near, no indication that they’re headed this way.”
I stop for a moment, trying to process the weight of his words. The information seems impossible to ignore. How could they have found nothing? How could a whole army, one we are desperately trying to track, simply vanish without a trace?
I open my mouth to speak, to ask more, but before I can form the question, Zander’s voice cuts through the quiet again, his tone low and tense. “Something isn’t right,” he says, the words hanging between us like a warning.
His gaze never wavers from the path ahead, but I can see the sharpness in his eyes, the same look that once kept him alive through countless battles.
It is a look I have come to trust. And in that moment, I can’t help but feel that whatever he’s sensed, whatever has been gnawing at him all day, is more than just a hunch.