The forest was too quiet.
Not peaceful—quiet in the way prey becomes silent when a predator enters its territory. Birds hid. Squirrels stayed in their burrows. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Only one sound carried through the trees.
Marching.
Faint. Rhythmic. Growing closer.
Mercenary riders stood at Ridgebrook's gate, weapons ready, eyes fixed on the treeline. Captain Orin sat her horse like a statue made of steel and instinct, gaze sharp.
"They're not rushing," she murmured. "That's a controlled advance."
"Soldiers?" Borrik asked.
"No," Vlad said immediately. "Soldiers march with pride. This march carries intention."
A chill crawled down my spine. "What kind of intention?"
"To surround," Vlad replied. "And crush—slowly."
Of course it was.
Lira stepped closer, nearer than usual. "Liam… you're shaking."
"I'm thinking," I whispered.
She touched my wrist gently. "Just don't freeze."
I didn't tell her the truth.
I wasn't afraid of freezing.
I was afraid of choosing wrong.
The Summoner's Ledger pulsed.
My vision flickered red.
[HOSTILE MOVEMENT DETECTED]
[ESTIMATED NUMBER: 40–60]
[RANK DETECTED: UP TO RANK 2]
[EXPECTED ARRIVAL: < 1 DAY]
My stomach twisted.
"Forty to sixty," I whispered. "We can't fight that."
Vlad folded his arms. "We can."
"No," I snapped. "We can't."
He tilted his head, genuinely amused. "Then I will."
"You're Rank 1!"
"And?"
"You'll die!"
He smiled faintly. "Then I will die well."
"STOP SAYING THAT!"
He looked confused—like he truly didn't understand why dying was a problem.
Orin rode closer. "Liam. You froze earlier. Now your eyes look sharp. What's your instinct telling you?"
I lied smoothly. "Experience. I've seen this kind of movement before."
She nodded. "Then we prepare. Ridgebrook needs time."
"Time we don't have," Borrik muttered.
We climbed the watchtower.
From above, the forest canopy rippled like water under a storm. Dozens of figures moved between the trees. Sunlight flashed on helmets and spearheads. A banner fluttered clearly now.
A black wolf's head.
Vantor.
Orin's jaw tightened. "He's sending a forward unit to test us."
"Just a test?" Borrik asked.
"No," Vlad said. "Bait."
Lira's breath caught. "For what?"
"For the hammer," Vlad replied calmly. "To fall later.
Fear pressed against my ribs—but I forced my thoughts to move.
If they fully surrounded Ridgebrook, we'd be crushed long before the summon cooldown ended. Eighteen days left—far too long.
We needed time.
We needed terrain.
We needed confusion.
We needed to delay.
I gathered the village leaders, mercenary riders, and Vlad beneath the watchtower.
"We cannot fight this head-on," I said. "We're too small."
A villager whimpered, "Then we're dead already."
"No," I said sharply. "We're not."
They stared at me—desperate, terrified, waiting.
"We don't fight their strength," I continued. "We fight their information."
Orin's eyes sharpened. "You want to blind them."
"Yes. They can't surround us if they don't understand the ground."
Vlad nodded approvingly. "Confuse the prey."
"They're the predators," Borrik muttered.
"Not if they can't find us," I said.
We moved fast.
Ridgebrook's False Maze took shape.
Branches dragged across paths.
Broken fences redirected movement.
Decoy trails split and rejoined.
Torches were placed to mislead.
Noise traps were set.
Trenches were covered and disguised.
False barricades blocked real routes.
The mercenaries marked trees with silent signals only they understood.
Vlad chose vantage points for ambushes that didn't exist—strategic ghosts meant to be felt, not used.
Lira organized children and elders, moving supplies into hidden cellars.
Within hours, Ridgebrook stopped being a village.
It became a maze.
The Ledger pulsed again.
[VILLAGE READINESS: +8%]
[HOSTILE FORCES STILL ADVANCING]
[RECOMMENDED ACTION: SCOUT DISRUPTION]
Disruption.
I turned to Orin. "How many scouts do you have?"
"Four," she said. "All good.
"Send them out. No fighting. Just confusion. Pull enemy scouts off course. Make them doubt their maps."
She nodded. "Confusion breaks formations."
"Exactly."
Vlad's eyes gleamed. "Let me go as well."
"No."
"You fear I will kill them?"
"That is exactly why I said no."
He looked… disappointed.
That was worse than anger.
By late afternoon, frustrated shouts echoed through the forest.
Vantor's forward unit had entered the false maze.
Voices drifted between the trees:
"Where's the road!?"
"This map is wrong!"
"Why are there trenches here!?"
"They shouldn't know we're coming!"
"We've lost the northern scouts!"
Orin's riders slipped through the shadows, leaving false signs and broken trails.
Vlad perched on the watchtower roof, watching the chaos with a hungry grin.
"Like crippling wolves," he said. "You do well, master."
I couldn't tell if that was praise—or a warning.
Lira stepped beside me, voice low. "This won't stop them forever."
"I know."
"Then what's the real plan?
I looked at the fading sunlight.
"At night," I said softly, "we strike back."
She stiffened. "Strike?"
"Not an attack," I clarified. "A message. Something to shatter morale. Something that makes them question this march. Makes Vantor hesitate."
Her throat bobbed. "And who delivers that message?"
I looked up at the watchtower.
At Vlad's silhouette against the dying sky.
Only one man could terrify an army alone.
"Vlad," I said.
He turned his head slowly.
"Yes, master?"
"We're going to send Vantor a nightmare."
His smile widened—slow, eager, and terrifying.
The forest waited