The next morning broke cold and brittle over the camp. Jimi hadn't slept a wink. He sat at the edge of his bunk, staring at the gray light pouring through the slats in the wall. His heart had reached a decision during the endless night.
He would not tell.
He would not betray Gad.
He would carry the secret with him, let it rot his bones if it had to, but he would not be the one to raise a hand against his brother. Instead, he prayed—prayed to whatever gods were still listening to the broken people of Forun—that Gad would stay hidden, stay clever, and survive long enough to finish what he had started.
All he could do now was protect Gad in the small ways he could. Divert suspicion. Mislead questions. Watch Gad's back from the shadows.
As the bugle's call pulled the soldiers from sleep, Jimi stood, tucked the old Forun badge back into his boot, and marched out to face another day of wearing the enemy's face.
---
Meanwhile, beyond the Ember Line, a secret meeting took place in the hollowed ruins of what had once been a grand church. The arched ceiling was half-collapsed, and moss grew thick over the broken pews, but it served as the perfect shelter for Asa's war council.
Around the cracked altar, Asa stood with Mora, Kael, Rhea, and Davon—his most trusted commanders.
"It's decided," Asa said, his voice firm, slicing through the silence. "We will send a rescue team for Gad."
Mora's face tightened with relief, and Kael, the grizzled veteran, gave a single approving nod. Rhea, young but fierce, leaned forward eagerly. Davon simply crossed his arms and said, "It's about damn time."
Asa spread a rough map over the altar—an old blueprint of the barracks Jimi and Gad were quartered in.
"Mora will lead a small team. Disguised as scavengers looking for scrap and leftover supplies along the outer edges. Once inside, they find Gad and get him out."
"It can't take more than two days," Rhea added, tracing a path with her finger. "Longer than that and they'll tighten security. And if Gad's been exposed..." She didn't finish the thought. She didn't have to.
"Two days," Asa agreed. "No more."
Mora clenched her fist over her heart in the old Forun salute. "I'll bring him back."
Asa held her gaze for a long moment. In that silent exchange, a lifetime of trust passed between them.
"Good," he said. "May the old spirits watch you."
They broke from the meeting then, each carrying the weight of what was to come, while the ruins around them whispered of old glories—and new ones yet to be won.
---
Across the river, back in the heart of Greenland territory, General Odo sat comfortably at his breakfast table, enjoying a rare morning with his family.
The sun streamed through the tall windows, illuminating the neat plates of eggs, fried plantains, and thick slices of bread spread across the polished wood. Bianca, his wife, poured coffee into delicate ceramic cups, her movements graceful as ever despite the years of hardship behind them.
At the far end of the table, their daughter Didi chattered happily between bites of toast.
"I've been thinking," Didi said, grinning brightly, "I want to explore Forun. At least the parts we've taken back. I want to see the old cities. Maybe even sketch them—I've been working on my art."
Bianca smiled indulgently, but General Odo set down his fork thoughtfully.
"That's not a bad idea," he said after a moment. "Knowing the land, even through leisure, is good. But you're not going alone."
Didi pouted. "I can handle myself, Dad."
Odo laughed, a deep, warm sound. "Maybe so, little lioness. But it's not about what you can handle. It's about what I can sleep peacefully knowing."
He turned to his son, Captain Tade, who was cutting into his eggs with military precision.
"Tade. Find one of the young soldiers. Someone sharp, respectful. They'll be her escort."
Tade nodded, wiping his mouth with a cloth napkin. "I'll pick someone by tomorrow morning."
Didi sighed but smiled at her father, knowing better than to argue further.
The conversation shifted then to lighter topics—how Bianca's garden was flourishing despite the dry season, how Tade was shaping up to lead his own command soon, and how Didi's sketches might one day hang in the halls of Greenland's new government.
For a while, they laughed and talked like any normal family, far removed from the shadows gathering beyond their city walls.
Little did they know, the quiet days were numbered—and storms were brewing far closer than any of them could see.