The taste of iron lingered in Val''s mouth as he swung down from the barricade. His muscles trembled from the sudden absence of aether, leaving him feeling hollowed out and brittle. A quick assessment confirmed he''d emerged from the desperate sprint through the undead lines without serious injury, just the usual collection of scrapes and bruises that came with combat. Around him, rangers checked weapons and helped each other down from the wall, their expressions a mixture of relief and exhaustion.


    "Good to see you upright," Jorin said, clapping a hand on Val''s shoulder. The captain looked haggard, his normally kempt beard now wild and flecked with what might have been dried blood. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and a fresh gash crossed his left cheek, hastily stitched closed. "Was starting to think you''d gotten lost on the way back."


    Val managed a tired smile. "Got sidetracked by a few hundred ghouls."


    "As you do." Jorin''s attempt at humor couldn''t quite mask the strain in his voice. He turned to Captain Alfen, offering a salute. "Your arrival''s well-timed. We''ve been stretched thin."


    Alfen returned the salute, his weathered face grim. "Saw the welcome committee. Oakspire''s Fourth Army Company is a day behind us, maybe less if they push hard."


    Hope flickered briefly across Jorin''s face before settling back into the hard mask of command. "Let''s talk while we walk. Your rangers need to get situated, and my men could use the relief."


    As they moved away from the wall, Val took his first good look at what remained of Willow Creek. The village had been transformed in the days since he''d left. Where the original palisade had stood, a patchwork barrier of upended carts, furniture, and hastily cut timber now formed a makeshift wall. Buildings near the perimeter had been partially dismantled, their materials repurposed for barricades and defensive positions. Smoke hung in the air from small cooking fires and the still-smoldering remains of structures that had been put to the torch, either by design or in the chaos of battle.


    "We almost lost the northern quarter entirely," Jorin said, following Val''s gaze. "Pulled back after the second night when they broke through in force."


    The villagers they passed looked hollow-eyed and drawn, moving with the mechanical movement of people operating on the edge of exhaustion. Some nodded to the rangers, but most simply continued their tasks of hauling water, reinforcing barricades, or tending to the wounded who lay on makeshift pallets in the shadow of the remaining buildings.


    "How many left?" Val asked quietly.


    Jorin''s jaw tightened. "Thirty militia still able to fight. Maybe twice that number of villagers who can hold a weapon when pressed. The rest..." He gestured vaguely toward a row of buildings where civilians huddled in doorways, watching the rangers pass with dead-eyed stares. "We''ve lost hundreds, all told. Some fighting, some to wounds after, some just disappeared when sections of the wall fell."


    They passed a building that had been converted into a field hospital. Through the open door, Val glimpsed rows of wounded lying on blankets spread across the floor. The air carried the unmistakable scent of blood and the acrid tang of herbal medicines.


    "Elara''s in there," Jorin said, noting Val''s glance. "Hasn''t stopped working since you left. Some of our wounded wouldn''t have made it without her."


    Val nodded, a complex knot of emotions tightening in his chest. Relief that she was alive, pride in her skill, concern for her well-being. He''d have to find her later.


    "What about ours?" he asked, redirecting his thoughts.


    "Lost Mira, as you know. Rhea took a bad wound two nights ago, but he''s hanging on. The rest are battered but still fighting." Jorin''s voice remained carefully neutral, but Val could hear the strain beneath it. "Your squad''s been asking after you. Worried you''d gotten yourself killed on the way to Oakspire."


    "Takes more than a few ghouls to keep me down," Val replied, the bravado feeling hollow even to his own ears.


    Jorin snorted. "Evidently."


    They reached the village square, now transformed into a command center and rally point. The once bustling marketplace had been cleared of stalls, replaced by weapons racks, supply caches, and a large table spread with crude maps of the village and surrounding terrain. Captain Alfen immediately began issuing orders to his rangers, relieving the exhausted defenders who had been holding the walls for who knew how many hours straight.


    "Val!" The familiar voice cut through the din of activity. Val turned to see Aric limping toward him, a bandage wrapped around his left thigh but a grin splitting his tired face. "You made it back!"


    Before Val could respond, he was surrounded by the remaining members of his company; Aric, Rhea, and others, all reaching to clasp his arm or slap his back in greeting. Their relief was palpable, a moment of genuine joy.


    "Val brought friends," Jorin announced, gesturing to the newly arrived rangers who were already taking up positions along the walls. "And the fourth company of the army''s a day behind."


    This news rippled through the gathered defenders, murmurs of relief and hope spreading like a wave across the square. For the first time since his return, Val saw genuine belief in the eyes around him, belief that they might actually survive this ordeal.


    "Five hundred strong," Val confirmed. "With supplies and medical corps."


    The celebration was cut short by the arrival of Rolf, the village guard captain. His right arm hung in a sling, and his face was drawn with pain and exhaustion. "Captain Jorin, the western section''s reporting movement in the tree line. Nothing aggressive yet, but they''re gathering."


    Jorin nodded grimly. "Alfen''s rangers are taking the walls. Get your men some rest while we can."


    Rolf hesitated. "And the plans for the night? The Council is asking."


    "Call them here," Jorin decided after a moment''s thought. "We need to brief everyone at once. Val, you too. I want a full accounting of what you saw on the way in."


    While they waited for the village elders, Val provided Jorin and the other rangers with details of his journey. He told them of the numbers he''d observed in the ravine and the cordon around the village. The picture he painted was grim, but the news of incoming reinforcements provided a counterbalance of hope.


    "So they''ve got us surrounded, but help is coming," Jorin summarized, studying the crude map spread across the table. "Question is, can we hold until then?"


    "The army will face the same gauntlet we did," Captain Alfen pointed out. "Those undead in the ravine weren''t there by accident. They''re positioned to intercept exactly the kind of relief force we''re expecting."


    "And there could be more we haven''t seen," Val added. "The ones we observed were from Stonebridge. If they''ve done the same to other settlements..."


    The implications hung heavy in the air. If similar forces had been raised from each of the fallen villages, the undead could field an army numbering in the thousands. Far more than the Fourth Company could handle alone.


    The arrival of the village council interrupted these dark thoughts. Led by Elder Alaric Greyinn, the five remaining council members filed into the square, their faces bearing the same marks of strain and sleeplessness as everyone else in the village. They gathered around the table, listening intently as Jorin briefed them on the situation and the promised reinforcements.


    "A day," Elder Greyinn repeated, his weathered face thoughtful. "Can we hold that long?"


    "That''s what we need to decide," Jorin replied. "Captain Rolf, status of your militia?"


    Rolf stepped forward, his good hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "Thirty fighters left, as you said. Most have been on the walls for two days straight with minimal rest. Morale''s holding, but barely. Another night like the last..." He left the sentence unfinished, but everyone understood the implication.


    "And supplies?" Jorin asked, turning to another elder.


    "Water''s not a problem. The well in the square is still good. Food for three days, maybe four if we stretch it. Medicine..." The elder glanced toward the makeshift hospital. "We''re running low on everything. Too many wounded, not enough healers."


    Jorin absorbed this information, his eyes flickering over the map. "The perimeter''s too large," he said finally, his voice decisive. "We''re spread too thin, trying to hold the entire village. We need to contract."


    "Abandon more of the village?" one of the elders protested. "We''ve already lost the northern quarter!"


    "Better to lose buildings than people," Jorin countered. "If we pull back to the square and the buildings directly surrounding it, we create a tighter, more defensible perimeter. Fewer positions to hold, more concentrated force."


    "And what of those who can''t fight?" Elder Greyinn asked, his voice level despite the gravity of the question. "The wounded, the children, the elderly?"


    "Cellars," Rolf suggested immediately. "Most of the buildings around the square have them. Deep, solid stone, accessible only through narrow stairways. If the worst happens—"


    "They''d be defensible chokepoints," Jorin finished, nodding. "Good. And we keep a token force on the outer walls as long as possible, make the enemy think we''re still defending the full perimeter."


    The discussion continued, growing more technical as the various squad leaders and militia officers joined in. Val found his attention drifting, his exhaustion finally catching up with him now that the immediate danger had passed. His gaze wandered to the makeshift hospital, where a figure in bloodstained clothing had appeared in the doorway.


    Elara.


    She stood watching the meeting, her face drawn with fatigue, dark circles under her eyes. When she saw Val looking her way, a complex series of emotions crossed her features; relief, joy, concern, something deeper that Val couldn''t quite name. She raised a hand in silent greeting, and Val found himself moving away from the table, drawn to her like iron to a lodestone.


    "You''re back," she said simply when he reached her, her voice rough with exhaustion. "And in one piece."


    "More or less," Val replied. "I heard you''ve been keeping busy."


    She glanced back into the hospital, where moans and occasional cries punctuated the relative quiet. "Too busy. Not enough herbs, not enough hands. But we''re doing what we can." Her eyes returned to his face, searching. "You look dead on your feet."


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


    "Feel it too," Val admitted. "Haven''t had much sleep since I left."


    Elara reached out, her fingers brushing his arm in a gesture that might have seemed casual to an observer but carried a weight of meaning between them. "I''m glad you made it back," she said softly. "I was afraid..." She trailed off, unable or unwilling to give voice to her fears.


    "I know," Val said, understanding without needing the words. "Me too."


    A shout from the direction of the command table broke the moment. "Val! We need your input on the northern approaches."


    Val sighed, reluctance washing through him. "Duty calls."


    "Always does," Elara agreed with a tired smile. "Come find me later. I want to check that shoulder."


    With a nod, Val returned to the table, where the planning had progressed to detailed discussions of defense assignments and evacuation routes. The next hour blurred into a haze of tactical discussions, reassignments, and preparation orders. By the time Jorin finally dismissed them, the sun had begun its descent toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the square.


    "Get some rest," Jorin instructed Val as the meeting broke up. "We''ll need everyone at full strength tonight."


    "What about you?" Val asked, noting the captain''s exhausted state.


    "I''ll rest when I''m dead," Jorin replied with gallows humor. "Or when the army gets here. Whichever comes first."


    Unable to argue with this logic, Val sought out a quiet corner of the square, away from the main thoroughfares but close enough to respond quickly if needed. He found a spot against the wall of what had once been the village granary, now serving as an armory and supply depot. Sinking down with his back against the wall, Val allowed himself to acknowledge the full extent of his fatigue.


    Every muscle ached, from the lingering effects of his wounds to the strain of channeling so much aether during the dash to the village. His head throbbed with the beginnings of a headache, and his stomach reminded him sharply that he hadn''t eaten since before dawn.


    A shadow fell across him, and Val looked up to see Aric standing over him, a wooden bowl in one hand and a water skin in the other.


    "Thought you might need these," the young ranger said, offering both items. "Cook''s calling it stew, but I wouldn''t ask too many questions about what''s in it."


    Val accepted the food gratefully. "Sitting down for a while?" he asked, gesturing to the space beside him.


    Aric nodded, lowering himself carefully to accommodate his bandaged leg. "Been up and down the walls all day. Feels good to stop moving."


    They ate in companionable silence for a time, the simple act of consuming food restoring some of Val''s energy. The stew was indeed of questionable origin, but it was hot and filling, which was all that mattered at this point.


    "How''s the leg?" Val asked eventually, nodding toward Aric''s injury.


    "Not as bad as it looks," Aric replied with a shrug. "Ghoul got a lucky swipe in during the last big push. Elara says it''ll heal clean if I keep it wrapped."


    "Good. We''re going to need everyone who can stand."


    Aric''s expression sobered. "That bad out there?"


    Val considered sugar-coating the truth, then decided against it. Aric had earned the right to honesty. "Worse. There are thousands of them, Aric. More than I''ve ever seen in one place. This isn''t a random surge from the Deadlands. It''s an invasion."


    Aric nodded slowly, absorbing this. "But the army''s coming."


    "The army''s coming," Val confirmed. "We just have to hold until then."


    They lapsed back into silence, finishing their meals as activity continued around them. Militia and rangers reinforced barricades, stockpiled weapons at strategic points, and helped civilians relocate to the designated shelter areas. The sun inched lower, the quality of light changing as afternoon gave way to early evening.


    With food in his stomach and a moment of relative peace, Val turned his attention inward, assessing the state of his aether core. The desperate sprint through the undead lines should have depleted more than half of his reserves. Instead his core was vibrant and thrumming with energy. In normal circumstances, he would have begun the slow process of cycling, drawing in ambient aether to replenish what he had used.


    He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and the familiar mental patterns that allowed him to access his core. The sensation was always difficult to describe, something like feeling for a muscle that didn''t physically exist or listening for a sound at the very edge of hearing. After a moment of concentration, he found it, the center of his being where aether gathered and concentrated.


    Val began the cycling process, reaching out with his senses to draw in the ambient aether that surrounded all living things. Immediately, he encountered resistance. Where in Oakspire the aether had flowed easily, like water seeking its level, here it felt sluggish and thin, requiring far more effort to pull into his core.


    I should have paid more attention to aether theory in school, he thought ruefully. Alea would know what this means. I''ll have to ask her when I see her next.


    "You alright?" Aric''s voice broke through his concentration. "You''ve been still as a statue for a while now."


    Val opened his eyes, the world coming back into focus around him. "Just checking my aether reserves."


    Aric nodded, though his expression suggested he didn''t fully understand the implications. Unlike Val, the young ranger hadn''t yet developed the ability to consciously channel aether.


    "Is it because of the undead?" Aric asked, surprising Val with his insight. "Lysa once told me they disrupt the natural flow of aether. Something about death magic being opposite to life."


    "That''s part of it," Val agreed, impressed. "But I think there''s more to it than that. In Oakspire, near the great tree, cycling is almost effortless. Out here, it''s always harder, but never this difficult."


    "The Oakspire is special," Aric said with the certainty of someone repeating a lesson learned in childhood. "The priests say it''s a conduit for life aether, that it blesses the whole valley."


    Val had heard the same teachings throughout his life but had never given them much thought beyond their religious significance. Now, faced with the practical reality of his strange core he found himself reconsidering the old stories with new eyes.


    "We should get back," Aric said, interrupting Val''s thoughts once more. "Looks like they''re starting to pull back the outer defenses."


    Val followed Aric''s gaze and saw that he was right. Rangers and militia were falling back from the outermost barricades in small, disciplined groups, bringing essential supplies and weapons with them. A token force remained at each section of the wall, maintaining the illusion of a fully defended perimeter while the main body of defenders consolidated around the village square.


    Rising to his feet, Val felt the weight of fatigue still pressing on him, but the food and brief rest had restored some of his energy. He helped Aric up, noting the young ranger''s wince as he put weight on his injured leg.


    "You sure you''re fit for duty?" Val asked, concern edging his voice.


    Aric straightened, his jaw set in determination. "Can''t afford not to be. Besides, I can still shoot straight, and that''s what matters."


    Val couldn''t argue with that. Every able body would be needed in the coming hours, regardless of injuries or exhaustion. They made their way back toward the command table, where Jorin and Rolf were overseeing the consolidation of forces.


    "Val," Jorin acknowledged as they approached. "Feeling human again?"


    "Close enough," Val replied. "Where do you need us?"


    Jorin gestured to the eastern side of the square, where rangers and militia were establishing a new defensive line using overturned carts, barrels, and furniture. "Rhea''s organizing the barricades there. Give her a hand. We need them solid enough to slow a charge."


    Val nodded, already moving in that direction with Aric at his side. As they crossed the square, he noted the changes that had occurred during his brief rest. The civilians had largely disappeared, presumably relocated to the cellars designated as shelter areas. Weapons and supplies had been distributed to defensive positions around the square, and burning torches had been placed at strategic points to provide light as darkness fell.


    The mood had shifted too, a tense anticipation replacing the earlier relief at the rangers'' arrival. Everyone knew that night would bring renewed attacks, and that they would be fighting not just to defend a position but to survive long enough for reinforcements to arrive.


    Rhea looked up from directing the placement of a heavy cart as Val and Aric approached. "About time you two showed up," she said, though there was no real heat in her words. "Need strong backs over there." She pointed to where several rangers were attempting to move a heavy wooden beam into position.


    Val joined the effort, his muscles protesting as he added his strength to the task. With his robust aether reserves, he considered drawing on them to make the work easier, but quickly decided against it. Better to conserve what he had for when lives might depend on it.


    As they worked, Val found his gaze repeatedly drawn to the darkening sky above. Twilight was approaching, the time when the undead grew more active, their senses seemingly enhanced by the fading light. Soon, they would discover the ruse of the token force on the outer walls, and the real test would begin.


    "Think we''ll make it through the night?" Aric asked quietly as they hefted another section of barricade into place.


    Val considered the question seriously, weighing their dwindling numbers against the horde that surrounded them and the reinforcements that might or might not arrive in time.


    "We have to," he said simply. "There''s no other choice."


    The work continued as darkness fell, the defenders racing against time to complete their preparations before the inevitable assault began. Val moved from task to task, helping where needed, offering suggestions based on his experience from the previous battles. Despite his exhaustion and the nagging concern about his aether reserves, he found a grim satisfaction in the work, in the knowledge that every barrier raised, every weapon distributed, increased their chances of survival.


    As full night descended, an eerie hush fell over the village. The token forces on the outer walls had been reduced to the minimum needed to maintain the illusion of a full defense. They kept just enough eyes to report movement and enough bodies to be seen by watching enemies. The bulk of the defenders now clustered in and around the square, weapons ready, eyes straining to pierce the darkness beyond their torchlight.


    Val found himself positioned on the eastern side of the square alongside Aric, Rhea, and a mix of rangers and militia. They had a clear line of sight down the main street that led to the eastern gate, now abandoned save for two rangers who would signal and then retreat at the first sign of a major assault.


    "Movement at the north wall," came a whispered report, passing from defender to defender until it reached their position. "Probing attacks, testing for weaknesses."


    Val tightened his grip on his sword, the familiar weight of it both reassuring and insufficient against the horror that awaited them. Around him, others made similar preparations; checking bowstrings, adjusting grips on spears and axes, muttering quiet prayers to whatever gods they believed might be listening.


    "South wall reports the same," came another whisper. "Gathering but not attacking in force yet."


    The waiting was its own kind of torture, stretching nerves to the breaking point. Val found himself remembering other nights, other battles, searching his experience for anything that might help them survive until dawn. But nothing in his past compared to this. A village surrounded, cut off from aid, facing an enemy that didn''t tire, didn''t fear, and directed by an intelligence that understood strategy and tactics.


    A sudden commotion from the direction of the north wall broke the tense silence. Shouts, the clash of weapons, and then the pounding of feet as the token force abandoned their positions and raced toward the square.


    "They''re coming!" a ranger gasped as he reached the barricade. "Hundreds of them, breaking through at multiple points!"


    Jorin''s voice rang out from the center of the square, calm and authoritative despite the dire news. "Hold your positions! Archers ready! Remember, aim for the head, make every shot count!"


    Val drew a deep breath, centering himself as he had been trained to do before battle. Around him, the defenders tensed, weapons raised, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond their torchlight. In the distance, the inhuman howls of ghouls echoed through the night, growing louder as they approached. The sound sent a primal shiver down Val''s spine, a reminder that what they faced had once been human but was now something else entirely. Something that hungered for the living with an insatiable appetite.


    "Steady," Rhea murmured beside him. "Wait for the command."


    Val nodded, forcing his breathing to remain even. He could feel Aric trembling slightly on his other side, the young ranger facing his fear with commendable courage.


    "Keep your back to mine in the thick of it," Val told him quietly. "Watch each other''s blind spots. We''ll make it through."


    Aric nodded gratefully, his grip on his bow tightening. "Together."


    The first of them appeared at the far end of the street, shambling figures silhouetted against the fires that had begun to spring up as abandoned buildings were set ablaze by their passage. Their numbers grew quickly, a tide of rotting flesh and gleaming eyes flowing toward the barricade.


    "Archers!" Jorin''s command cut through the night. "Fire!"


    A volley of arrows arched into the darkness, finding targets among the advancing horde. Ghouls fell, but there were always more behind them, the mass barely slowed by their losses.


    Val watched them come, his hand steady on his sword, his mind clear despite the horror advancing toward them. In that moment, on the edge of battle with death closing in from all sides, he found a strange, almost peaceful clarity.


    They would fight. They would hold as long as they could. And perhaps, if the gods were kind, help would arrive before it was too late.


    The ghouls reached the outer range of the torchlight, their features becoming visible in the flickering illumination; sunken eyes, gaping mouths, flesh in various states of decay. Some wore the remnants of clothing that identified them as former villagers or travelers, while others were stripped to rotting skin stretched over bone.


    "Second volley!" Jorin ordered, and another flight of arrows took their toll.


    Val drew on his aether core, pulling a small measure of power into his muscles, enhancing his strength and reflexes just enough to give him an edge. The familiar warmth spread through his limbs, a contrast to the chill of the night air.


    The first wave of ghouls crashed against the barricade, clawing and biting at the wood, reaching for the defenders beyond. Val struck down a creature that had managed to get a grip on the top of the barrier, his sword cleaving through its skull with a sickening crunch.


    And so the night began, with fire and death and the desperate hope that dawn would find them still alive to greet it.