By Victor Simdrix
Chapter 13 – The Betrayer's Trail
The dawn broke blood-red. Clouds dragged across the sky like torn banners, and the air carried a heaviness that pressed down on the soldiers as they marched.
Kaelith rode ahead, his eyes sharp, scanning the horizon. But his mind was elsewhere.
The night before, a supply caravan bound for their encampment had been ambushed and burned. Not by ordinary raiders—by forces who knew their routes, their timing, even their weaknesses.
Which meant only one thing.
A traitor walked among them.
"Your Highness," Captain Darius Ember urged as he pulled his horse alongside, his voice low and edged with tension. "We must root them out before the rot spreads. Malakar's shadow seeps where fear allows it."
Kaelith gave a curt nod. "I know. And tonight, we set the snare."
---
The trap was simple, but deadly. A false message would be sent through the ranks—an order to move their army north to the abandoned ruins of Eldros. Only the betrayer would pass it on to Malakar's spies.
And Kaelith intended to see who flinched when the ambush came.
---
Nyra stood at the edge of the firelight that evening, sharpening her blade against a whetstone. Sparks leapt with every stroke, small reminders of the storm that lived inside her. She sensed eyes on her even before she looked up.
Whispers. Always whispers.
She was near the caravan last night.
Her fire burns too wild to trust.
What if she's the one feeding him?
Their suspicion gnawed at her, but what cut deeper was the look she caught from Kaelith himself. Not harsh, not condemning—just… searching. As though weighing her in scales she could not see.
"You doubt me," she said when he finally approached.
Kaelith did not answer at first. He simply studied her, his jaw tight, his cloak stirring in the cold wind. "I doubt everyone," he admitted at last. "Malakar knows our steps before we take them. Until I find the hand feeding him, none are above suspicion."
Her chest tightened. "Even me."
His silence was answer enough.
Nyra turned away, her throat burning hotter than her magic. "Then perhaps your trap will prove me guilty or prove me loyal. Either way… you'll have your answer."
---
That night, the army marched north under false orders. The ruins of Eldros loomed like broken teeth against the horizon. Crumbling towers. Silent walls. Shadows that clung too tightly.
The soldiers braced for the strike.
And sure enough, before the moon had reached its peak, Malakar's forces poured from the shadows. Blades gleamed. Arrows rained.
Kaelith drew his sword, a blaze of steel against the dark. "To arms!" he roared.
The clash erupted like thunder.
But amid the chaos, Kaelith's eyes searched not for the enemy, but for the betrayer who had brought them here.
And when the smoke cleared, when the blood sank into the soil, he found something that froze him more than the battle itself—
One of his own commanders lying dead, with Malakar's sigil carved into his palm.
Yet still… the whispers would not leave Nyra untouched.