The sun had barely begun to rise when Ridgebrook felt the shift.
A heavy silence settled over the village—not peaceful, but deliberate. No wind. No birds. No rustling leaves. Just the unnatural quiet of an enemy that had stopped reacting… and started planning.
I stepped out of my house and smelled smoke immediately. Not the thick, choking smoke of battle, but the bitter stench of torches that had burned all night in the forest.
That alone made my stomach tighten.
Orin came running down the path toward me. "Chief! You need to see the creek—now."
My heart sank.
Lira was already moving, keeping pace beside me as we hurried downhill. Villagers followed at a distance, whispering anxiously.
Then we saw it.
The creek was no longer a trickle.
It was barely a dark line cutting through wet stone.
Somewhere upstream, Vantor's men had finished reinforcing their barrier. The water hadn't stopped completely—but what remained wouldn't even fill a bucket.
Lira froze. "Liam… it's worse than yesterday."
Much worse.
I knelt and dragged my fingers across the stones. The water barely reached my knuckles.
The Summoner's Ledger flared in my vision:
[WATER FLOW: 18%]
[SURVIVAL RISK INCREASED]
[DAYS UNTIL NEXT SUMMON: 15]
Yeah. I noticed.
A villager rushed forward, panic breaking through his voice. "Chief! If it drops any more—our children—what will we drink?"
Before I could answer, Vlad appeared behind us, silent as ever. His eyes swept the nearly dry creek bed.
"They are impatient now," he said calmly. "Fear makes commanders reckless."
Orin clenched her jaw. "Vantor's furious. This is retaliation for the supply sabotage."
"Good," Vlad replied. "Anger blinds men."
"It also kills villages," Lira snapped.
Vlad tilted his head slightly. "Only unprepared ones."
I stepped between them before the argument escalated. "We're not dying of thirst," I said firmly. "Not today. Not tomorrow."
Lira looked at me, doubt written across her face. "How, Liam? We can't fight through hundreds of soldiers guarding the river."
"No," I agreed. "But we can endure long enough for another opening."
"We still have rain barrels," Orin added. "And firewood. If needed, we can boil what little water we collect."
"And tonight," Vlad said, "I can inspect their dam."
"No torture," Lira warned instantly.
Vlad blinked. "I promised nothing about torture."
I pointed at him. "No. Torture only if absolutely necessary."
He paused, then nodded thoughtfully. "That is very often."
I groaned. "Just… sabotage carefully."
The villagers gathered in the square as the sun climbed higher. Faces looked thinner than yesterday—fear carving lines into them.
Borrik lifted a bucket, then turned it upside down.
One lonely drop fell.
"That's all we managed this morning."
A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd.
I raised my voice. "Everyone stay calm. We ration carefully. No waste. We fill barrels the moment water rises—even a little."
A woman asked softly, "Chief… what if it never rises?"
I didn't hesitate.
"Then we take the water from Vantor.
The murmurs that followed weren't just fear.
There was something else mixed in.
Hope, maybe.
Or desperation.
Orin climbed onto a crate. "Listen carefully. Vantor is losing control. His supply lines were hit. His men are shaken. Angry armies make mistakes."
"And we'll be ready when they do," I added.
Slowly, the villagers dispersed, fear still clinging to them—but no longer unchecked.
By midday, the encirclement tightened again.
More torches.
More patrols.
More archers positioned on high ground.
The forest looked less like trees and more like a burning cage.
Near the barricade, an arrow slammed into the dirt inches from my boot.
Lira screamed, "Liam!"
"I'm fine," I said, even though my heart nearly jumped out of my chest.
Orin picked up the arrow and examined it. "Another warning shot. They're testing how close they can get."
Vlad glanced at the arrowhead. "Poor aim."
Lira shot him a glare. "Not everyone aims by stabbing people through the head!"
"A shame," he murmured.
As evening approached, the pressure became suffocating.
The sky darkened.
Torches burned brighter.
Children clung to their parents.
Adults gripped spears, axes, and farming tools like lifelines.
On the wall, Lira spoke quietly. "Liam… how long can we really last?"
"Long enough," I said. "We have to."
"Do you think Vantor will attack soon?"
I stared at the glowing ring of fire beyond the trees.
"No. He's waiting. Squeezing us. Inch by inch."
Vlad joined us, arms crossed. "He wants us thirsty. Then hungry. Then desperate."
"And then?" Lira asked.
"Then he breaks the weakest," Vlad said.
I swallowed hard.
"He won't break us," I said quietly. "Not before we break him."
The torches flickered like watching eyes.
The siege tightened another notch.
And the next fifteen days loomed like a storm building just beyond the treeline.
Ridgebrook would endure.
It had to.