Campbell gave an order.
That single command, that single sentence, hung heavily in the air for several moments. The soldiers found it difficult to comprehend. Some exchanged uneasy glances, while others stood frozen in disbelief. Yet none of them dared question it. Their surprise was evident in their hesitation, but an order was an order, and soldiers were not trained to challenge commands aloud.
Campbell, on the other hand, remained calm.
After ordering the execution of every woman who possessed knowledge of the secret, he had already considered the problem that would follow. The child would need nourishment. She would need care. Because of that, he spared the one woman known to be the child's mother.
Not out of mercy.
Not out of compassion.
Out of necessity.
The woman had only recently given birth. She alone possessed what the child needed to survive. Campbell understood that much.
As the chaos around him slowly settled, his thoughts began to race. His imagination wandered through countless possibilities. How would the child be raised? What exactly was she? What would she become? More importantly, what secrets had been hidden from the world all these years?
His curiosity had completely overtaken him.
The entire matter needed to remain secret.
At the same time, he needed answers.
While supplies, prisoners, and equipment were being loaded onto the ship, and Jeremiah was taken away for medical treatment, Campbell summoned Jeremiah's High Card.
"I want everything," he ordered.
The soldier immediately complied.
Campbell listened in silence as a complete report was delivered. The man detailed the mission from the very beginning—the assault on the village, the elimination of resistance, the success of their objectives, the capture of Tiza, Tiza's transformation, and finally the escape of lara carrying his child.
Not a single detail was omitted.
As the report continued, Campbell's expression slowly changed.
Astonishment.
Disbelief.
Admiration.
By the time the soldier finished, Campbell found himself staring toward the river in silence.
"So that is how it happened..."
His fingers lightly adjusted the blanket wrapped around the sleeping infant.
"Oh, little Tiza," he muttered quietly.
"My boy... if only you had never become a traitor."
There was no hatred in his voice.
Only regret.
Long before the exile.
Long before the hunts.
Long before the world had turned against him.
Campbell had admired Narito Tiza.
The Marked Wolf had been one of the greatest soldiers Campbell had ever known. A warrior forged through suffering, discipline, and impossible odds.
Even now, after everything that had happened, that admiration had not completely disappeared.
But admiration did not erase duty.
Campbell was a soldier.
And soldiers followed their purpose.
Now that he knew the full story, a new plan had begun to form inside his mind. A dangerous plan. A patient plan.
A devious one.
He understood Tiza better than most.
He knew the man behind the legend.
More importantly, he understood what mattered to him.
Tiza would never allow Lara's secret to be exposed.
He would never abandon his people.
And he would never leave a child behind.
Campbell knew this with absolute certainty.
Which meant there was only one thing left to do.
Wait.
He ordered a chair to be brought.
Once it arrived, he placed it near the riverbank overlooking the village and sat down calmly.
The child rested peacefully in his arms.
Gently, almost absentmindedly, he rocked her.
The infant stirred briefly before settling once more into sleep.
Campbell looked toward the distant tree line.
Toward the mountains.
Toward the shadows.
A faint smile touched his lips.
"Come, Tiza," he whispered.
"The Shadow Wolf always returns."
And so Campbell waited.Patiently.Confidently.
Knowing that somewhere beyond the trees, beyond the bloodshed and the silence, Narito Tiza would hear what had happened. And when he did...He would come.