The journey from the attack zone to the rendezvous point unfolded in silence, broken only by the soft hum of the armored transport's engines. The children, exhausted, slept in the arms of the undercover caretakers. Some still clung to dolls, blankets, or the arms of older companions. The tension, at last, began to ease, like a taut cord slowly releasing its strain.
Yuli watched through the reinforced window as the landscape shifted: withered fields gave way to mist-veiled woods cloaked in the dim light of dawn. Beside her, Kaela quietly recited the names of the children, checking them off one by one. At the control panel, Sol was hunched over a portable terminal, still connected to fragments of the downed enemy drone. Every few minutes, she let out a frustrated sigh, unable to break through the multiple encryption layers.
"We'll be there soon," Kaela finally said, her voice steady. "The King and the Aunt are waiting at the base."
"Do we know if it's temporary, or are they setting up a full refuge?" Yuli asked without turning her gaze from the trees.
"We'll know when we arrive," Kaela replied. "But if there's one thing I've learned, our Aunt never moves without first preparing the ground."
The temporary base had once been a royal outpost, repurposed years ago by the Guardians as an emergency shelter. Nestled deep in the mountains, shrouded by towering trees and shielded by optical camouflage, it was invisible from the air. Upon arrival, a group of veteran Guardians, some armed, others dressed in medical gear, rushed out to receive them.
Inside, the King waited, standing beside the Aunt. As soon as she saw the children, she knelt and embraced them one by one. The undercover workers briefly regrouped to report everything they knew, from the enemy's movements to the logistics of the discreet evacuation.
In the command room, the King held a tablet displaying the name lists retrieved from the holo-message. He compared them to the rescued children. His face showed concern, but also a new kind of fury, silent, cold, unyielding.
"They're hunting the children," he said at last, handing the tablet to the Aunt. "One by one. Like they're key pieces in a game we still don't fully understand."
"Then it's time to change the rules," she replied, her tone like steel. "We won't just protect anymore. We'll investigate, infiltrate… and if necessary, strike back. There's no room for passivity now."
Yuli watched her companions as they organized night watches and prepared makeshift rooms for the children. Everything moved like a well-oiled machine. But inside her, a question pulsed louder than the rest.
She approached the Aunt, who was scanning defensive schematics.
"What will happen to the boys?" she asked softly. "They were on the list too."
The Aunt looked up, weary but unwavering.
"They'll be relocated. Protected. But this… this goes beyond us. Sometimes, protecting means letting go of those we love… to save them. Not all are meant to fight in resistance. Some are meant only to survive. And for that, they have us."
Yuli clenched her fists. She swore to herself that the past would not repeat. Not with her sister. Not with any other child.
That night, in the heart of a temporary refuge hidden beneath the forest's shadows, something stronger than fear was born: determination. Because now, more than ever, they knew they were not alone. And for those under their protection, they were the only thing standing between life…
…and the darkness looming over the kingdom.
A few days later, they returned to the village.