The echo of boots against the stone-paved floor of the war chamber was the only sound that dared fill the heavy silence. Commander Otunba's uniform, once pristine with the pride of Greenland's conquests, now hung on him like a relic of failure. Mud-spattered. Torn at the sleeves. The red-and-gold insignia of the Greenland army stained by soot and blood. His steps faltered only once—right before the great iron doors parted to reveal the man he feared facing the most.
General Odo stood tall behind the obsidian war table, his figure framed by the long banner of Greenland fluttering behind him. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, followed Otunba with cold precision.
Otunba came to a halt, saluted, and then stood rigidly, bracing himself for the onslaught.
"You lost," General Odo said, voice like cracking stone. "Not a retreat. Not a fallback. You lost."
Otunba's throat worked before sound emerged. "Sir… we walked into a trap."
The General's hand slammed down on the table, rattling the miniature models of terrain and battalions. "You think I don't know what a trap is? Asa—the rebel ghost—has been in hiding for months. You were supposed to crush him and his pitiful fighters, not get swallowed by the very land we invaded!"
"It was as if he knew I was coming," Otunba pressed on, his voice rising with restrained urgency. "Every move I made was anticipated. They led us into believing we were winning, the diguise of retreat, and then we were surrounded . Half of First Division died. Snipers picked us apart from the ridgelines. It wasn't a battle—it was a slaughter!"
"And yet you call yourself commander," Odo growled. "A commander who can be outfoxed by mountain rats and forest spirits. You disappoint me, Otunba."
The room pulsed with unspoken rage. Otunba dropped his eyes. He'd fought wars across deserts and coasts, but nothing prepared him for the cunning of Asa. It was not the size of the Forun resistance that broke him—it was the way they seemed to see everything, know everything.
General Odo circled the table and stopped inches from him. "You had every supplyyou needed. And still, you crawled back like a wounded dog."
Otunba's fists clenched. "If I may—"
"You may shut up." Odo turned, voice rising like a storm. "Commander Helda."
From the shadows behind the war map stepped a woman clad in the sleek obsidian-black armor of Greenland's elite. Her hair was shorn short, her eyes unflinching. She walked forward, the sharp click of her boots in perfect rhythm with Odo's fury.
"She will take your command," Odo declared. "From this moment forward, Helda leads the assault on Forun."
Otunba blinked, the blow settling deeper than any blade. "Sir…"
"You'll remain as adviser. Watch. Learn. Or fade."
Commander Helda didn't spare him a glance. Her eyes were already on the map, already rewriting Otunba's legacy in silence.
---
Somewhere in the Greenland Barack
Jimi sat staring at the blood drying on his hands. His uniform bore the Greenland crest, but it felt like a lie stitched into his skin. Around him, the survivors of the failed assault whispered of betrayal, of ghosts in the hills, of Asa's name spoken like a god of war.
He had done it. He'd fired the final shot that brought down the twin sentries of a Forun watchpost. The faces were blurry in his memory, but the uniforms were not. Green with the sigil of the old Forun crest. His people. His blood.
"I killed them," he muttered. "They spoke in the dialect of my village."
Gad sat nearby, quietly polishing his weapon. A strange smirk played on his lips, as if the ashes and wreckage meant nothing.
Jimi turned sharply. "You're smiling."
Gad didn't deny it.
"We lost," Jimi snapped. "Half our unit gone. We're being pushed back. And you're smiling?"
Gad leaned forward, his voice low, almost reverent. "Forun blood still runs in my veins. Even if I wear this cursed cloth." He flicked at his Greenland uniform.
"You're glad we lost?"
"I'm glad they fought back."
Jimi stood, fists shaking. "You lied to me. You said survival was all that mattered."
"And now we live," Gad said, standing too, meeting his gaze. "But do we live as slaves or as men with memory? Asa remembered. And now so do I."
Jimi's breath came shallow. The guilt gnawed at him like fire. "I can't go back."
Gad's voice softened. "Then go forward. Not for Greenland. For what was stolen. For Forun."