The barracks were still, swallowed by the heavy breath of midnight. Lanterns swung low on iron hooks, casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls. Jimi sat alone on his bunk, hunched over with his elbows pressed into his knees, his head bowed low. The other soldiers were asleep, snoring softly under the thin government-issue blankets, but sleep would not come for him. Not tonight.
In his hands, he turned a worn leather tag over and over—his father's old Forun badge, hidden carefully in his boot since the day he had first joined the Greenland army. A bitter irony. His father had fought and bled for Forun, had raised him on the songs of the free people. And yet here he was now, dressed in the colors of those who had crushed Forun underfoot.
And now Gad.
Jimi closed his eyes tightly, as if shutting them could smother the war raging inside him. Gad, his friend, his brother-in-arms, the only soul in this cold, mercenary camp who still called him by the childhood name his mother used. Gad—whom Commander Otunba had charged him, all of them, to find. The mole. The Asa spy.
It should have been him, Jimi thought bitterly. He should have been the one infiltrating the Greenland army for Forun's cause. He should have been the one risking death in silence. Not Gad. Gad, whose father was Asa himself—the last lion of Forun—had not betrayed their people like Jimi had by wearing this cursed uniform.
Could he really betray Gad now? March to Commander Otunba's office, salute crisply, and tell him that his own brother was the spy they were hunting?
His hands trembled. His stomach twisted into hard knots. He had heard the rumors: what the Greenland army did to spies was not swift or clean.
As he wrestled with his guilt, a shadow broke from the darkness and approached his bunk. Jimi stiffened, instinctively reaching for the dagger hidden under his pillow, but relaxed the moment he recognized the broad-shouldered figure.
Gad.
The older boy's face was calm, though the deep lines under his eyes betrayed the weight he carried. He sat down heavily beside Jimi without a word at first, his hands resting loosely between his knees. For a while, they just sat in silence, breathing the same heavy, uncertain air.
Then Gad spoke, his voice low but unshaking.
"I know what's eating you, Jimi."
Jimi opened his mouth, but no words came. Gad pressed on.
"I don't care if you tell them. I knew when I took this mission it could lead to my death." He smiled faintly, a tired smile that didn't touch his eyes. "That was always part of it."
Jimi stared at him, throat tightening.
"But before you make your choice," Gad said, turning to meet Jimi's tortured gaze, "I want you to think about your family. Your father—shot down by the same Greenland army whose colors you now wear. Your mother, forced to bow and scrape for scraps. Your brother.
Jimi looked away, blinking fast.
"You're not the enemy, Jimi," Gad said. "But they are. Don't ever forget that. Think about who you're really loyal to before you make your decision."
Without waiting for a response, Gad clapped him gently on the shoulder, stood up, and melted back into the shadows, leaving Jimi alone once more with the heaviest decision of his life.
---
Meanwhile, at the edge of the Ember Line—the borderland where Forun's last free territories burned against the ever-encroaching darkness—two figures stood hidden among the tall reeds and skeletal trees. A bitter wind tugged at their cloaks as the moon smeared pale light across the ground.
Mora paced back and forth, the dry leaves crackling under her boots. Her jaw was tight with worry, her dark eyes flashing with frustration.
"It's been too quiet from Gad's side," she said, barely keeping her voice from shaking. "No reports. No signals. Nothing. Do you think they've captured him?"
Across from her, Asa leaned silently against a twisted old tree, arms folded across his chest. His face was carved from stone—no flicker of emotion, no sign of the father who should have been wracked with fear.
"It is possible," Asa said simply, his voice as calm and cold as the river behind them.
Mora's fists clenched at her sides. She wanted to shake him, to demand some human reaction from him. After all, it was his son they were talking about!
"But Odo's no fool," Asa continued. "If Gad's cover is blown, he would know by now. He would be setting traps already."
Mora stopped pacing, breathing hard. "We can't just leave him there," she said. "He's one of ours. He's yours. We should send a retrieval team."
Asa was quiet for a long moment. The wind whispered through the grass like the ghost of an old song.
"I know," he said finally. "But I need time to think."
Mora stared at him, disbelief and anger roiling inside her. But she held her tongue. If Asa said he needed time, he had his reasons. He always did. She just prayed that whatever he decided, it wouldn't be too late.