The wight''s head rolled away, its skull bouncing off a jagged boulder with a hollow crack. The body crumpled, its necrotic aether dissipating in swirls of sickly green vapor. Val''s breath came in harsh gasps, each pull of air burning in his chest. The aether surge had taken more from him than he''d anticipated, leaving his muscles trembling with fatigue.


    "Impressive," Kaelen grunted, already turning to face the remaining threat. "Save some for the others."


    Val steadied himself, forcing his breathing to slow as he assessed the battlefield. The company''s initial shock had given way to disciplined resistance. Rangers fought in tight formations, their blades rising and falling with practiced precision. The ghouls still outnumbered them, but with the wight dispatched, their attacks had grown less coordinated, more bestial.


    "There!" Jorin pointed toward a cluster of rocks where Lysa and her squad were surrounded by four ghouls. Val nodded, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles as he followed Jorin and Kaelen toward the remaining foes.


    A ghoul turned at their approach, its milky eyes fixing on Val with mindless hatred. It lunged, fingers curved like talons, reaching for his throat. Val sidestepped, letting momentum carry the creature past him before bringing his sword down in a diagonal slash across its spine. The blade bit deep, severing decayed muscle and brittle bone. The ghoul collapsed, its legs suddenly useless, but continued to drag itself forward.


    Val finished it with a thrust through the base of its skull, the steel punching through with a sickening crunch. He ripped his blade free, grimacing at the black ichor that coated the metal, and turned to face the next threat.


    Kaelen had already dispatched one ghoul, his massive axe cleaving through its torso with brutal efficiency. Jorin fought with calculated precision, each movement economical as he dismantled a third undead with surgical strikes. Lysa and her squad, now with room to maneuver, quickly overcame the remaining ghoul.


    "Report," Jorin called, scanning the battlefield for additional threats.


    "Alive," Lysa responded in a deadpan voice, wiping black ichor from her blade. "Mira''s wounded but mobile."


    Val glanced toward the ranger in question. Mira stood with her weight shifted to her right leg, a torn pant leg revealing a nasty gash across her left thigh.


    "Two more by the ridge," Rhea''s voice came from higher up the slope.


    Val turned to check on his own squad. Elara and Aric had rejoined the main group, both bloodied but standing. Aric''s eyes were wide with the aftermath of battle, but his hands remained steady on his sword. A good sign for a ranger so new.


    "Alive." Val reported to Jorin.


    The captain nodded, his gaze moving to the remaining pockets of resistance. "Let''s finish this."


    They moved methodically across the battlefield, reinforcing each squad until the last of the ghouls lay still. The fight had carried them halfway up the slope to the pass, leaving a trail of corpses in their wake. Val''s muscles burned with fatigue, the aether surge having drained his reserves dangerously low. He''d need rest before he could channel again without risk.


    As the final ghoul fell to Rhea''s blade, a heavy silence descended on the mountainside. The rangers stood amid the carnage, bloodied and breathing hard, waiting for Jorin''s next command.


    "Secure the perimeter," the captain ordered. "Check for survivors, then gather the bodies. They need to be burned before we move on."


    Val sheathed his sword, wincing at the pull of overtaxed muscles across his shoulders and back. He''d pushed himself harder than usual during the fight, and he''d pay for it in the coming days. Still, it had been necessary. The ambush had been too well orchestrated to be random chance.


    He made his way toward Elara and Aric, who were already moving to comply with Jorin''s orders. Elara had a nasty cut across her forearm, and Aric sported a rapidly swelling bruise along his jawline, but both appeared otherwise intact.


    "Well fought," Val acknowledged, his voice rough with exertion. "How bad is the arm?"


    Elara glanced at the wound, her expression dismissive. "A shallow cut, thankfully."


    Val nodded, turning to Aric. "And you?"


    The younger ranger touched his jaw gingerly. "Just a glancing blow. I expect them to feel pain when a strike lands, instead they just get angrier."


    "At least you''re still in one piece," Val said, offering a tired smile. "That''s better than many first encounters with a wight-led pack."


    Together, they began the grim task of checking each fallen ghoul to ensure it wouldn''t rise again. Most had been thoroughly dispatched, their bodies mutilated beyond any possibility of reanimation, but a few required additional attention. A severed head or a destroyed heart to be certain.


    "Seventeen," Val counted aloud as they finished their grim inventory. "Plus the wight makes eighteen."


    "Too many for a random encounter," Elara observed, voicing the concern that had been nagging at Val. "This was an organized ambush."


    "Agreed," Val said, his gaze moving to where Jorin and Kaelen were conferring near the wight''s remains.


    They began the process of dragging the corpses to a pile for burning. It was exhausting, unpleasant work, made more difficult by the rocky terrain and the advanced decay of some of the ghouls. Val''s muscles protested each new burden, but he pushed through the discomfort, knowing the importance of proper disposal.


    Undead corpses left unburned could sometimes rise again, especially this close to the Deadlands where necrotic energies saturated the very soil. Fire was the surest way to prevent such occurrences. To ensure that whatever intelligence had orchestrated this attack couldn''t simply reanimate its fallen pawns once the rangers had moved on.


    By the time they''d assembled all the corpses in a rough pile, the sun had begun its descent toward the western horizon. Long shadows stretched across the mountainside, a reminder that they needed to be clear of the pass before nightfall. The Deadlands were dangerous enough during daylight hours; in darkness, they became nearly unsurvivable.


    Val joined Jorin and the other squad leaders as they gathered to discuss their next steps. The captain''s expression was grave, the lines around his eyes deepened by fatigue and concern.


    "The wight was their leader," Jorin stated, gesturing toward the headless corpse they''d placed atop the pile. "From the clothing and build, I''d guess it was once the merchant whose caravan we found attacked in the forest."


    "That tracks," Kaelen agreed. "The timing fits. They were ambushed, turned, and then sent back across the border as a raiding party."


    "But who turned them?" Lysa asked, voicing the question on everyone''s mind. "And why send them back? The merchant wasn''t simply killed and left to rise naturally. Something deliberately created a wight and bound these ghouls to it."


    Jorin shook his head. "Questions for the council. Our priority now is to report what we''ve found and get back to Oakspire intact."


    Val studied the wight''s remains, noting details he''d missed in the heat of battle. Despite the decay, the clothing was of fine quality, silks and brocades that would have cost a small fortune.


    Kaelen set to work with flint and tinder, aided by a small flask of oil from his pack. The flames caught quickly, spreading across the pile of undead remains. Dark, oily smoke rose into the air, carrying a stench that made Val''s stomach clench. They all stepped back, watching as the fire consumed the bodies.


    "Do you think this was the source of all the undead we''ve been tracking?" Val asked Jorin quietly, his eyes fixed on the burning corpses.


    "I hope so," the captain replied, but his tone suggested he shared Val''s doubts. "It would be convenient if we''ve eliminated the threat in one encounter."


    "But you don''t believe that."


    Jorin sighed, the sound barely audible over the crackle of flames. "One wight with a pack of ghouls doesn''t explain everything we''ve seen. But for now, we''ve dealt with what was in front of us, and that''s something."


    Val nodded, accepting the captain''s assessment. They''d won a victory today, but the larger threat remained unidentified. As the fire consumed the last recognizable features of the undead, Jorin gave the order to move out. The company formed up, with the wounded positioned in the center of their formation for protection. Mira''s leg injury had been hastily bound, but she limped noticeably as they began their ascent toward the pass.


    The climb was arduous, made more difficult by their fatigue and injuries. Val found himself moving more slowly than usual, his muscles stiff from the aether surge and subsequent combat. Around him, the other rangers showed similar signs of strain. They wore tightened expressions, labored breathing, occasional winces as injuries made themselves felt.


    They reached the summit of Dead Peak Pass as the sun touched the western mountains, bathing the landscape in golden light that contrasted the danger of their position. On the valley side of the pass, the dying sunlight illuminated the forested slopes with warm amber hues. On the Deadlands side, the same light cast long, ominous shadows across the blighted terrain, deepening its inherent wrongness.


    "No rest," Jorin called, already starting down the western slope. "We need to put as much distance between us and this place as possible before full dark."


    No one argued. They all knew the dangers of lingering near the border after sunset. The undead grew more active at night, their senses somehow enhanced by darkness. A company as battered as theirs would make tempting prey.


    The descent was, in many ways, more challenging than the climb had been. Loose shale shifted treacherously under their boots, threatening to send them sliding down the steep incline. Muscles fatigued from battle protested each careful step.


    They moved in grim silence, saving their breath for the difficult terrain. The valley stretched out below them, the thick forests a promise of relative safety if they could reach them before nightfall. Val estimated they had perhaps an hour of usable light remaining. It was barely enough if they maintained their current pace.


    The sun had disappeared behind the mountains by the time they reached the treeline, leaving them in the deep blue twilight of early evening. The forest offered welcome cover, but also reduced visibility, forcing them to move more cautiously. Jorin set Lysa at point, relying on her exceptional tracking skills to guide them safely back to the ranger shack.


    "Keep a tight formation," the captain ordered, his voice low. "We''re not home yet."


    Val moved to the right flank of their formation, his hand resting lightly on his sword hilt. Despite his exhaustion, his senses remained alert, scanning the deepening shadows between the trees for any sign of movement. The forest was unnaturally quiet, the usual evening chorus of birds and insects subdued, as if the land itself sensed the wrongness that had spilled across the border.


    They made slow but steady progress through the gathering darkness. Jorin resisted the urge to light torches, knowing that while illumination would aid their movement, it would also announce their presence to any threats lurking in the forest. Instead, they relied on the faint silver light of the rising moon, filtered through the canopy in dappled patterns that cast more shadows than they dispelled.


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Val''s muscles ached with each step, the cumulative toll of the day''s exertions making itself felt with increasing insistence. The wound on his side, a shallow gash from a ghoul''s claws, throbbed in time with his heartbeat. He''d dismissed it during the heat of battle, but now it demanded attention, a burning line of fire across his ribs.


    He wasn''t alone in his discomfort. Mira''s limp had worsened, forcing her to lean heavily on Rhea for support. Elara''s bandaged arm was held close to her body, the white cloth now stained with seeping blood. Even Kaelen, normally tireless, showed signs of strain in the set of his shoulders and the careful placement of his feet.


    The moon had risen high overhead by the time the dark outline of the shack appeared through the trees. A collective sense of relief rippled through the company, though no one relaxed their guard.


    Jorin signaled for the company to halt while Lysa and Kaelen moved ahead to secure the shack. Val watched as the two veteran rangers circled the small building, checking for signs of disturbance or unwelcome visitors. After several tense minutes, Kaelen gave the all-clear signal, and the company moved forward to the shelter.


    The interior of the ranger shack was cold and dark, exactly as they had left it. Jorin decided against lighting the stove, not wanting the smoke to potentially attract attention. Instead, they would make do with cold rations and what little warmth their bodies and blankets could provide.


    "Secure the perimeter," Jorin ordered as they settled inside. "Standard watch rotation. Elara, see to the wounded as best you can without light."


    With security established, the company turned to the immediate needs of food and medical attention. Cold trail rations were distributed. Hard bread, dried meat, a few withered apples saved from earlier in the journey. The food was unappetizing but necessary, fuel for bodies pushed to their limits. Aether usage was tiring on the body and mind. Val needed as much food as he could tolerate to rebuild his reserves.


    Elara moved among them, her herbalist''s bag open as she tended to injuries by touch more than sight. When she reached Val, her fingers probed the wound on his side with fondness and gentle precision.


    "Not deep," she murmured, "but the edges are inflamed."


    Elara applied a thick paste of herbs and honey to the wound, the cool salve immediately soothing the burning sensation. "This will help fight the infection and promote healing," she explained, wrapping a clean bandage around his torso. "But you should have it looked at properly when we return to Oakspire."


    "I will," Val promised, knowing better than to argue with the company''s healer. Ranger lore was full of cautionary tales about those who had ignored seemingly minor wounds, only to succumb to infection days later.


    With the immediate needs of the company addressed, they settled into an uneasy rest. Those not on watch arranged themselves as comfortably as possible on the hard wooden floor of the shack, using packs as pillows and cloaks as blankets. Conversation was minimal, each ranger lost in their own thoughts or simply too exhausted for talk.


    Val found a spot near the back wall, positioning himself so he could see both the door and the shack''s single window. He removed his sword belt but kept the weapon close at hand, a habit ingrained by years of ranger training.


    Val''s thoughts were interrupted as Jorin settled beside him, his expression somber in the faint moonlight that filtered through the shuttered window.


    "You should rest," the captain said quietly. "Tomorrow''s journey won''t be any easier."


    They sat in companionable silence for a moment, two veterans reflecting on the day''s battle and its implications. Finally, Jorin spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper.


    "You did well today. The wight would have been a serious problem without your intervention."


    Val accepted the rare praise with a nod. "Kaelen did most of the work. I just happened to find the right angle."


    "Don''t sell yourself short," Jorin said, a hint of amusement in his tired voice. "Kaelen might have the strength, but you had the precision and speed. It was good work, your abilities are growing."


    Before Val could respond, the captain rose to his feet with a barely suppressed groan. "Get some sleep. I want us moving at first light."


    As Jorin moved away to check on the other rangers, Val leaned back against the rough wooden wall, allowing his eyes to close at last. Despite his racing thoughts and aching body, exhaustion soon pulled him toward sleep. His last conscious thought was a hope that tomorrow''s journey would be less eventful than today''s had been.


    He woke to the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder. Lian crouched beside him, the young tracker''s expression apologetic.


    "Third watch," Lian whispered. "Sorry to wake you."


    Val nodded, shaking off the cobwebs of sleep as he sat up. His body protested the movement, muscles stiff and sore from the previous day''s exertions. The wound on his side throbbed dully, a persistent reminder of the battle.


    "How long was I out?" he asked, keeping his voice low to avoid disturbing the others.


    "About four hours," Lian replied. "It''s been quiet so far."


    Val reached for his sword belt, buckling it around his waist with practiced movements. "Who''s on with me?"


    "Aric. He''s already outside, eastern position."


    "Get some rest," Val told Lian, noting the shadows of fatigue under the tracker''s eyes. "I''ll take it from here."


    The night air was bitter cold when Val stepped outside, a sharp reminder of their mountain elevation. His breath fogged in front of his face, illuminated by the silver light of a waning moon that hung high overhead. The forest surrounding the shack was eerily still, the usual nocturnal sounds subdued to near silence.


    Val made his way to the eastern watch position, a slight rise that offered a good view of the approach from the mountains. Aric stood with his back against a pine tree, bow in hand, his posture alert despite the late hour.


    "Anything?" Val asked quietly as he joined the young ranger.


    Aric shook his head. "Nothing moving. Not even wildlife."


    That was concerning. The absence of normal forest sounds often preceded the presence of predators or worse. Val scanned the darkness between the trees, his experienced eyes picking out shapes and shadows that would be invisible to less trained observers.


    "How''s the jaw?" he asked, noting the impressive bruise that had blossomed along Aric''s right cheekbone.


    The young ranger touched it gingerly. "Tender, but functional. Elara says nothing''s broken."


    "Lucky," Val observed. "A ghoul''s fist can easily shatter bone."


    They fell into a comfortable silence, each scanning different sectors of the surrounding forest. Val was pleased to note that Aric maintained proper watch discipline, regularly shifting his gaze rather than fixating on any one area. The young ranger was learning quickly.


    After nearly an hour of uneventful vigilance, Aric broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"


    "Go ahead," Val replied, his eyes still moving across their perimeter.


    "How do you know when to use your aether? In combat, I mean. It seems like it could be the difference between life and death, but I''ve heard it''s dangerous to drain your core too deeply."


    "It''s a balance," he said finally. "You need to know your own limits, how much you can channel safely and how quickly your core recovers. Push too far, and you risk core exhaustion, which can leave you vulnerable for days."


    Aric nodded, absorbing the information. "But in the heat of battle?"


    "Experience, mostly," Val admitted. "You learn to gauge threats against your current reserves. Today, the wight was a serious enough threat to justify a deeper channel than I''d normally use. But I knew to stop once it was down, even though there were still ghouls to deal with."


    "I wish I could do that," Aric said, a note of wistfulness in his voice. "Channel aether, I mean. The instructors tested me, but said my core was too small to be useful."


    Val offered a sympathetic smile, invisible in the darkness. "A strong core isn''t everything. Some of the best rangers I''ve known couldn''t channel at all. Sharp senses and good judgment count for more in the long run."


    The young ranger seemed to take heart from this. "That''s what Captain Jorin said when he approved my transfer to the rangers. That I had the right instincts, even without a usable core."


    "Jorin''s a good judge of character," Val said. "If he says you have what it takes, then you do."


    They lapsed back into silence, continuing their vigilant watch over the eastern perimeter. The night remained quiet, almost unnaturally so, but no threats materialized from the darkness. As the hours passed, Val noted with approval that Aric maintained his focus despite the monotony and cold, another good sign for a ranger in training.


    The eastern sky had just begun to lighten, the first faint hints of dawn breaking over the distant mountains, when Jorin emerged from the shack to relieve them. The captain looked as if he''d barely slept, the lines around his eyes deeper than usual, but his gaze remained sharp as he scanned their surroundings.


    "Quiet night?" he asked, keeping his voice low.


    "Too quiet," Val replied. "No wildlife for most of the watch. But nothing approached that we could detect."


    Jorin nodded, unsurprised. "The entire forest feels wrong. We''ll move out as soon as there''s enough light to travel safely. No point waiting."


    Val and Aric returned to the shack to find the rest of the company already stirring. Rangers moved with the efficient economy of those accustomed to breaking camp quickly, packing gear and checking weapons by habit as much as conscious thought. No one spoke of lighting the stove for hot food or tea; the risk of smoke drawing attention was too great this close to where they''d encountered the undead.


    Elara moved among them, checking bandages and applying fresh healing paste where needed. When she reached Val, her fingers probed his side with gentle precision, testing the edges of the wound through the bandage.


    "How does it feel?" she asked, her voice professional but concerned.


    "Tender," Val admitted. "But manageable."


    Elara frowned, not entirely satisfied with his assessment. "The paste should have reduced the inflammation more by now. Let me apply a fresh dressing before we move out."


    Val submitted to her without argument, knowing better than to question the company''s healer in her area of expertise. As she unwrapped the bandage, he caught a glimpse of the wound. An angry red line that stretched across his ribs, the surrounding skin inflamed and slightly swollen.


    "Definitely infected," Elara murmured, her expression troubled. "This needs proper treatment, not field medicine."


    "Will it hold until we reach Oakspire?" Val asked, conscious of the long journey ahead.


    Elara hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "It should, if we maintain a steady pace and you don''t push yourself too hard."


    "Understood," Val agreed.


    Elara applied a fresh layer of healing paste, its cool touch temporarily soothing the burning sensation, then wrapped a clean bandage tightly around his torso. "Check in with me at each rest stop," she instructed. "I want to monitor how it''s progressing."


    By the time the sun had properly cleared the eastern mountains, the company was ready to move out. Jorin gathered them for a final briefing, his expression grave in the clear morning light.


    "We make for Oakspire by the most direct route," he said, indicating their path on a weathered map. "Normal formation, but tighter spacing than usual. I want everyone within sight of at least two other rangers at all times."


    The captain''s gaze swept across the assembled company, taking note of their condition. Most showed signs of the previous day''s battle with bandaged wounds, stiff movements, and the shadow of fatigue in their eyes.


    "We''ve accomplished our mission," Jorin continued. "We''ve confirmed the route the undead are using to enter the valley, engaged and eliminated a significant threat, and gathered intelligence that may help identify the source of the incursions. Now our priority is to return to Oakspire with that information intact."


    The implied message was clear: they would avoid further engagement if at all possible. The company was in no condition for another battle like yesterday''s.


    With a final nod, Jorin gave the order to move out. The rangers formed up in their traveling formation, with Lysa on point and Kaelen taking the rear guard position. Val found himself in the center of the column with Elara and Aric.


    They left the relative security of the ranger shack behind, moving southward through the forest at a steady but careful pace. The terrain was less challenging than the mountain slopes they''d navigated the previous day, but their reduced physical condition made even level ground seem arduous. Val focused on maintaining an even stride, ignoring the persistent throb of his infected wound as best he could.


    The forest remained unnaturally quiet around them, the usual sounds of wildlife subdued to near silence. It was as if the entire ecosystem sensed the wrongness that had spilled across the border, the corruption of the Deadlands seeping into the valley''s edge. Even the trees seemed somehow dimmer, their vibrant greens muted under the clear morning sky.


    They stopped briefly at midday for a cold meal of trail rations and to rest their aching muscles. Elara made her rounds, checking bandages and applying fresh healing paste where needed. When she reached Val, her expression tightened with concern as she examined his wound.


    "The infection is spreading," she said quietly, keeping her voice low to avoid alarming the others. "The paste isn''t containing it as it should."


    "I''ll make it," Val assured her, though they both knew it was bravado as much as certainty. "Just need to keep moving."


    Elara reapplied the healing paste and wrapped a fresh bandage around his torso, her movements gentle but efficient. "No heroics," she warned. "If it gets worse, you tell me immediately."


    The company resumed their journey soon after, maintaining their careful pace through the increasingly familiar terrain. They were now firmly within the valley proper, the mountains receding behind them as they traveled southward toward Oakspire. The forest gradually thinned, giving way to more open woodland where shafts of sunlight penetrated the canopy to dapple the forest floor.


    As the afternoon wore on, Val found himself struggling to maintain the pace. The infection sapped his strength with each passing hour, a burning fever beginning to build behind his eyes. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, drawing on years of ranger discipline to keep moving despite his body''s protests.


    Aric noticed his struggle first, the young ranger dropping back slightly to walk beside him. "You alright? You''re looking a bit pale."


    "Just tired," Val replied, unwilling to admit weakness even as sweat beaded on his forehead despite the cool mountain air. "Long couple of days."


    Aric didn''t press the issue, but remained close. The sun was low in the western sky when Jorin finally called a halt for the day. They had made good progress despite their condition, covering nearly fifteen miles of rugged terrain. The captain chose their campsite carefully. A small clearing surrounded by dense undergrowth, with a rocky outcropping at its back that prevented approach from the north.


    "Cold camp tonight," Jorin announced as the rangers began to set up their perimeter. "No fire, no hot food. We''re still too close to where we encountered the undead to risk drawing attention."


    No one protested, though the prospect of another cold meal and a night without warmth was hardly appealing. Rangers learned early to prioritize security over comfort, survival over convenience.


    Val helped establish the camp''s defensive positions, ignoring the increasing pain from his wound and the fever that now burned steadily through his body. He arranged the watch rotation, placing himself on third shift once again, hoping that a few hours of uninterrupted sleep might help his body fight the infection.


    As darkness fell, the company settled in for another night of wary rest. Cold rations were distributed, the rangers eating without enthusiasm but with the discipline of those who knew the importance of maintaining their strength. Val found he had little appetite, managing only a few bites of dried meat and hard bread before his stomach rebelled.