The sun hung low over the scorched foothills of Ember Line, casting a dull gold over the remnants of war. Smoke still curled in lazy spirals from shattered trees and crushed tanks, and the scent of blood lingered like an unwelcome ghost. The men and women of the Greenland army sat in rows, shoulders slumped, helmets by their sides. Some stared into nothing. Others clenched their weapons as if afraid to let go.
Commander Helda stood before them, armor gleaming in the dusk, her posture straight as a blade. Behind her, Commander Otunba loomed, quieter now, humbled but still sharp. A cold wind swept the valley, ruffling Helda's short-cropped hair as she stepped forward and addressed the gathering.
"You fought. You bled. You survived," she began, voice clear and cutting through the silence like steel. "Ember Line was a trap, yes. But not a defeat of who you are. It was a lesson in what you face."
She walked among them slowly, eyes piercing.
"You may have been born in Forun. You may remember its songs, its hills, its ancient pride. But your oath, your uniform—your future—is Greenland now. We are not the lost children of a broken land. We are the arm that will break resistance. The shield that will never bend again."
Otunba stepped up, voice heavy with the echo of battle. "We lost a battle, yes. But not the war. The war is far from over. If Asa believes Ember Line is the final word, let him rest easy—we will wake him with fire."
Murmurs spread. Spines straightened. Fingers curled around rifles with renewed purpose.
Helda raised her voice once more. "You are Greenland's finest. You are not defeated. You are forged."
Among the soldiers, Jimi sat still, expression guarded. He dared a glance at Gad, hoping for something—sorrow, pride, even defiance. But Gad's face was unreadable. The eyes of a man too deep in secrets to be read.
The soldiers rose, one by one, saluting, nodding, some with clenched jaws and wet eyes. Commander Helda had struck something in them—not just order, but belief. The fire had not gone out. Not yet.
---
Far across the valley, nestled in the shadows of old Forun's crumbling capital, a radio crackled in a tiny mud-brick home. The voice of a broadcaster reported the Ember Line resistance: a major blow to Greenland occupation, with heavy losses sustained. The woman listening sat motionless, hands folded in her lap, eyes hollow.
Her name was Serah. Her husband had died in the first month of the invasion—gunned down fighting for his country. Her first son, had vanished into the forests shortly after. If he was still alive, he was fighting alongside the freedom fighters now—perhaps even under Asa himself. Her second son…
Jimi.
Her chest ached at the thought. The boy who once played with carved wooden planes, who laughed in the rain and made promises with stars. Now wearing the colors of Greenland. Fighting against his own.
Tears slid down her face, quiet and slow. She did not know if to be happy that Forun had stood strong, or afraid—terrified—that her son might be among the dead on the other side of the Ember Line.
"I've lost them both," she whispered, rocking gently. "One to fire… one to silence."
The radio continued to buzz, listing casualties and speculations, but Serah no longer heard it. Her heart was split in two—and neither side was winning.
---
Deep in the mountains, in the warmth of a stone meeting chamber lit by flickering torches, the leaders of the Forun freedom fighters gathered.
Asa sat at the head of the table, broad-shouldered, eyes thoughtful beneath his gray-streaked hair. Around him were the war-forged Devon, kael, Mora and Rhea, they fierce and perceptive, they had bled for every inch of freedom they reclaimed.
"The victory at Ember Line is ours," Devon said, the words still tasting like disbelief. "But what now? Strike again while the wound is fresh?"
Kael leaned forward, fists on the table. "Exactly. Hit them while their spirits are down. Push them out of the valleys, out of the plains. We have momentum now—we use it."
Mora shook her head gently. "And walk into their trap? Ember Line caught them off guard. They won't make that mistake again. I wager Greenland's already reinforcing every pass and trail beyond Ember. We go now, we lose."
The room fell into a brief, tense silence.
Then Rhea turned to Asa. "So what do we do then, Asa? We can't stand still."
Asa's eyes remained fixed on the dancing flame of a lantern. His voice was low, but resolute.
"We wait."
"Wait?" Kael frowned.
"We wait," Asa repeated, "for the next move. For the next fracture. And we wait… for Gad."
The room shifted with quiet understanding. Gad, Asa's son. A shadow within Greenland's own ranks. A spark hidden in the enemy's belly.
"He'll send word," Asa said. "And when he does, we strike—not just with fire, but with precision. With truth."
Outside, night had settled over the mountains of Forun, but within the stone walls, the fire still burned. And with it, the promise that this war—this fight for freedom—was far from over.