In the wide open yard of the Greenland military compound, final preparations for the Ember Line assault were underway. Soldiers moved in precision lines, their rifles gleaming under floodlights. Tank engines growled, drones buzzed overhead, and the crackle of comms filled the air like static thunder.
Commander Helda paced between formation lines, her voice crisp over the field radio. "First and second battalions are ready. No delays. We move on Ember Line before dawn."
Beside her, Commander Otunba reviewed a tactical map. "Intel confirms they're still holed up deep in the ridge. They've dug in, but they've made no major movements. Looks like they're preparing for a final stand."
At the front, towering over the rest in jet-black tactical gear, stood Captain Tade. He was silent, expression unreadable, his rifle resting on his shoulder like a casual promise of death.
"They're not moving," Otunba said again, more confidently. "That means they're waiting to be crushed."
Tade finally spoke. "Then we give them what they're waiting for."
He glanced at Helda. "Once we breach the outer pass, I want no mercy. No survivors."
Helda nodded. "Understood."
With that, the Greenland army began to move. Convoys rolled through the southern hills, escorted by aerial drones. Boots thundered across the frostbitten ground, heading straight toward Ember Line—confident the rebels had nowhere to run.
---
But the rebels weren't waiting to be crushed. They were already slipping away.
Within the deep shadows of Ember Line, preparations had nearly finished. Rebels passed whispered commands. Ammunition was rationed. Children were carried silently. The wind bit hard, but the night offered its only protection.
Kael stood before a tight squad of fighters, all grim-faced and loaded with gear. His eyes moved from one man to the next, finally resting on Zeke.
"You lead this team, Zeke. You hold the path once we're gone. Slow them down. Use every shot, every explosive. Every second you buy, we gain."
Zeke nodded. "We'll give them hell."
Kael lowered his voice. "We don't expect you to make it out. But your fight will save hundreds. Make it count."
Zeke turned to his squad. "We know what we signed up for. Let's give them something to choke on."
As they moved out to lay traps and prepare choke points, Mora was organizing the main body of rebels for departure. Women, the wounded, and civilians were quietly positioned in the center of the formation. Fighters formed the perimeter. Everyone carried their lives on their backs and their weapons in hand.
The cold was harsh, but the silence was harsher.
Above the trail, Asa stood with Gad. Both watched as the last of the squad moved into position.
"Zeke chose this," Asa said quietly. "And when I asked what he wanted in return… he said: Sector 12."
Gad turned toward his father, puzzled. "Why there?"
Asa hesitated, then answered, "Because that's where his mother, Sarah, and his younger brother Jimi live."
Gad's breath caught.
Jimi.
He remembered the barracks, the laughter, the nights they sat swapping stories. Jimi had opened his heart. Gad had lied. Claimed his father was a simple farmer. Only at the end—when Jimi's suspicions had grown—had Gad admitted the truth: that he was a Forun rebel hiding behind a Greenland uniform.
And now this—Zeke. Jimi's brother. Willingly sacrificing himself.
Gad stepped back, emotion rising fast. "I didn't know."
Asa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now you do."
Gad looked away, jaw clenched, heart in turmoil.