Val stared at the pyre, flames consuming what remained of Captain Jorin. Five years of service together reduced to ash and bone. The fire crackled and popped as it devoured the wooden structure, sending embers spiraling upward into the clear morning sky. He could still see it, the ogre''s massive hands crushing Jorin against the fountain stone, the sickening sound of breaking bones, the captain''s face contorted in final defiance. That memory would never leave him.


    Val''s fingers curled into a fist at his side as memories washed over him like autumn rain. The day Jorin had first accepted him into Ranger Company Two played out behind his eyes, clear as spring water.


    "You''re green as summer grass," Jorin had said, examining Val''s bow stance. "But there''s steel in your spine. That''s what matters out here." He''d adjusted Val''s grip, calloused hands positioning the weapon with practiced ease. "A ranger''s worth isn''t measured by his first shot, but by his last."


    The fire popped, sending another shower of sparks skyward. Val remembered countless nights around campfires, Jorin''s quiet wisdom cutting through the darkness. The way he''d share his dried meat with younger rangers who''d burned through their rations too quickly. How he never spoke of it afterward, never held it over their heads.


    "Leadership isn''t about having all the answers," Jorin had told him one bitter winter evening, passing a steaming cup of pine needle tea. "It''s about asking the right questions and listening to those who might know better than you." He''d smiled then, crow''s feet deepening around his eyes.


    Heat from the pyre pressed against Val''s face, but he couldn''t step back. Not yet. His mind drifted to the time he''d nearly died tracking a Goliath Bear that had been attacking homesteads. Jorin had found him half-frozen in a ravine, carried him back to camp on his own shoulders.


    "You did good work tracking it," Jorin had said later, changing Val''s bandages. "Next time, remember your limits. Dead rangers can''t protect anyone." His hands had been gentle despite their roughness, like a father tending a foolish son.


    The flames began to die down, orange light giving way to gray ash. Val touched the ranger''s pin on his chest, the one Jorin had pressed into his palm after his first successful mission. "You''ve earned this," he''d said. "Now earn it again tomorrow."


    Smoke stung Val''s eyes, or at least that''s what he told himself as moisture gathered at their corners. He remembered Jorin''s laugh, rare but genuine, usually accompanied by a story about some mistake he''d made as a young ranger himself. Teaching through his own failures, showing them it was okay to be human.


    "The border between the living and the dead isn''t just out there in the Deadlands," Jorin had told him once, pointing to the horizon. "It runs through every choice we make, every life we save or lose. Remember that, Val. Remember why we stand on this side of it."


    A cold wind cut through the morning air, carrying ash and memory alike. Jorin''s last orders echoed in Val''s mind, clear and steady even as death approached. "Hold the line. Protect our people. That''s all that matters now."


    The sun broke through the morning clouds, casting long shadows across the scorched earth where they''d fought. Where Jorin had made his final stand. Val squared his shoulders, feeling the ache of fresh wounds and older lessons.


    Around him stood what remained of Ranger Companies Two and Five, their faces hollow with exhaustion and grief. Seven pyres burned in the village square of Willow Creek. Seven rangers who wouldn''t be making the journey back to Oakspire.


    Jorin, Mira and Jarek lay among five members of Company Five.


    The battle had ended hours ago with the arrival of the Fourth, but the work continued through the dawn. The dead were gathered and wounded treated. The villagers were roused from their cellars and shelters. No one had slept. Few had even sat down. Val''s muscles ached with a bone-deep weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion.


    "The Oakspire welcomes you home," Captain Alfen intoned, his voice carrying across the square despite its softness, in a funeral prayer. "May its roots embrace you, its trunk support you, its branches shelter you."


    The remaining rangers repeated the words in unison, their voices a ragged chorus. Val''s lips moved, but no sound emerged. His throat felt raw from screaming orders during the battle.


    "From earth you came, to earth you return. Our cycle continues." Alfen completed the prayer, bowing his head.


    Val watched the flames leap higher. He''d been the one to light Jorin''s pyre. His hands still smelled of the oil they''d used to prepare the body, mixed with the acrid scent of burning.


    A heavy hand landed on his shoulder, startling him from his reverie. Kaelen stood beside him, the veteran ranger''s weathered face grim beneath its layer of grime and dried blood.


    "You can''t blame yourself," Kaelen said, his gravelly voice pitched low so only Val could hear.


    "I was too slow," Val replied, the words bitter in his mouth. "If I''d reached him sooner—"


    "You saved everyone else," Kaelen cut him off, squeezing his shoulder with surprising gentleness. "Without what you did, we''d all be on pyres right now. The whole damn village."


    Val didn''t respond. What could he say? He still didn''t understand what had happened to him during the battle.


    "He was a good captain," Kaelen continued, dropping his hand. "Died as he lived, protecting others. He wouldn''t have settled for anything less."


    "He deserved better than this," Val said, gesturing at the ruined village around them.


    "We all deserve better than this," Kaelen grunted. "But deserving doesn''t enter into it."


    Across the square, Elara stood apart from the other rangers, her face blank with shock. She hadn''t spoken since the battle ended, moving mechanically as she treated the wounded, her hands steady even while her eyes remained distant. Val had tried to approach her earlier, but she''d turned away, burying herself in her work.


    The funeral service concluded as the last of the prayers faded into the morning air. Captain Alfen stepped back from the pyres, his expression somber as he surveyed the gathered rangers.


    "We honor our fallen by continuing their work," he said, voice carrying across the square. "Prepare to move out. We escort the refugees to Oakspire."


    The rangers dispersed, returning to their duties with the quiet efficiency of professionals accustomed to grief. Val remained where he stood, watching the flames consume Jorin''s body until Alfen approached him.


    "Valtha," the captain said, using Val''s full name, a formality that underscored the gravity of the moment. "A word."


    Val nodded, following Alfen to a relatively intact building on the edge of the square that had been converted into a temporary command post. Inside, maps were spread across a table, marked with notations indicating the positions of refugee groups, undead sightings, and patrol routes.


    "I''m combining what remains of our companies for the journey back," Alfen said without preamble, gesturing to the map. "With our losses, we''re down to thirteen rangers total. Not enough to maintain separate command structures."


    Val nodded.


    "I''ll be taking overall command," Alfen continued. "You''ll serve as my second. Kaelen and Lysa will each lead a squad. Understood?"


    "Yes, sir," Val replied automatically, the words feeling hollow in his mouth.


    Alfen studied him for a moment, his eyes sharp despite the exhaustion etched into his features. "The Fourth Company will escort the main refugee column. We''ll serve as scouts and rearguard. The undead are still out there, and I expect they''ll try to harry us all the way back to Oakspire."


    Val traced the route on the map with his finger before nodding to the older man.


    "I''ll do my best, sir."


    "I know you will." Alfen straightened, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. "There''s something else we need to discuss. What happened during the battle."


    Val stiffened. "Sir?"


    "Don''t play dumb, Valtha. Half the survivors are talking about how you glowed like the midday sun and cut through those ogres like they were made of parchment." Alfen''s expression remained neutral. "I''ve seen aether users before. What you did was something different."


    Val hesitated, uncertain how to explain what he himself didn''t understand. "I don''t know what happened, sir. My core... it changed somehow. The power was nothing like I''ve experienced before."


    "Can you do it again?"


    "I don''t think so. Not deliberately. It just... happened."


    Alfen studied him for a long moment before nodding. "We''ll discuss this further when we reach Oakspire. For now, keep it close. The last thing we need is wild rumors spreading through the refugee column."


    "Yes, sir."


    "Get something to eat. Rest if you can. We move out before midday." Alfen dismissed him with a nod, turning his attention back to the maps.


    Val stepped outside, blinking in the bright morning light. The village square had transformed since the battle, changing from a desperate last stand to an organized evacuation point. Soldiers directed villagers as they loaded wagons with whatever possessions they''d managed to salvage from the ruins. Children clung to their parents, wide-eyed and silent, while the adults moved with the numb efficiency of those still processing their shock.


    The air smelled of smoke, blood, and the cloying sweetness of burning undead, a scent Val had become far too familiar with over the past days. Beneath it all lay the distinctive copper-and-rot stench of necrotic aether, lingering like a stain that couldn''t be washed away.


    He made his way through the crowd, nodding to rangers and soldiers he recognized, stopping occasionally to help lift a heavy crate or secure a load to a wagon. Physical labor was a relief, requiring no thought, no emotion, just the simple mechanics of muscle and bone.


    Hours passed in a blur of activity. Val ate without tasting the food, drank water without quenching his thirst, and performed his duties with mechanical movements. Time seemed oddly disconnected, stretching and compressing without rhythm or reason.


    Before he knew it, the evacuation was underway. The wagon train stretched along the main road leading south from Willow Creek. A procession of misery bound for Oakspire. Val found himself standing at the edge of the village, watching as the last of the refugees filed past.


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    The village itself was barely recognizable. Half the buildings had burned during the battle, while others stood damaged beyond repair. The defensive walls lay in splinters, the eastern section completely demolished where the ogres had broken through. Blood darkened the dirt streets, already drawing flies in the midday heat.


    Willow Creek had stood for generations, a frontier settlement on the edge of the valley. A beacon of life and community in the northern reaches of the valley. Now it just felt like a tomb.


    "Not much left to save," a quiet voice observed from beside him.


    Val turned to find Elara standing there, her medical bag slung over one shoulder. She looked different, harder somehow, the softness gone from her eyes.


    "No," he agreed, uncertain what else to say.


    She continued, her voice flat. "Four hundred and twenty-seven villagers. Nine rangers. Twenty soldiers from the Fourth Company." She recited the numbers with clinical detachment.


    Val winced at the tally. "Elara—"


    She buried her face in his shoulder. He held her while she sobbed, feeling his warm breath on his neck. They stayed like that for a few minutes until a messenger wearing robes of the Order of the Leaf approached.


    "Healer Elara!" He said hesitant to break the moment. "Elder Luci asks if you will ride in the healers wagons."


    Elara stiffened her posture and took a deep breath. "You should go, its a great honor to ride with the elders." Val said softly. They shared a long look before she turned and followed the boy through the crowd.


    A flash of movement caught his eye. Kaelen approaching with his axe slung across his back, looking as if he''d aged a decade overnight.


    "Time to move out," the veteran ranger said. "Alfen''s assigned us to the rearguard. Wants us to make sure nothing follows the column."


    Val nodded, taking one last look at the smoking ruins of Willow Creek. In his mind''s eye, he could still see it as it had been, children playing in the square, merchants hawking their wares, farmers bringing in their harvest. Now only ashes remained.


    "Let''s go," he said, turning his back on the village.


    Val''s boots crunched over broken glass as he walked alongside Kaelen, heading toward their assigned position. A familiar voice called out behind them.


    "Val! Wait up!" Alea jogged to catch them. She nodded to Kaelen, who grunted and continued ahead, giving them space.


    "I heard about Jorin," she said softly, falling into step beside him. "I''m so sorry."


    Val kept his eyes forward, watching the last wagons roll past. The words of condolence felt hollow, though he knew she meant well.


    "I know how much he meant to you." She said before they walked in silence for a few more minutes.


    "I saw you with that healer earlier..." Alea''s tone shifted slightly, a hint of her usual playfulness creeping in.


    "Don''t." The word came out sharper than he intended.


    Alea''s teasing smile faded. "Sorry. Bad timing."


    They continued in silence until Val couldn''t stand it.


    "Something happened during the battle," Val said finally, the words spilling out before he could stop them. "With my core. It was different than anything I''ve experienced."


    Alea stayed quiet, waiting as he explained everything that happened.


    "It wasn''t just channeling. It was like..." He struggled to find the words. "Like something reached out and filled me. Pure power, but controlled somehow. I moved faster than should be possible. Killed two ogres like they were nothing. And then..." He swallowed hard. "I healed people. Around the fountain. Their wounds just closed."


    "You''re sure?" Alea asked, her voice carefully neutral.


    Val shook his head. "It was... Instant. And the power... it felt ancient. Connected to something bigger."


    She was silent for several long moments, considering. "Have you ever heard of resonance cores? When two aether users'' cores align perfectly and amplify each other?"


    "This wasn''t that," Val said. "It came from somewhere else. Somewhere..." He trailed off, remembering the strange warmth that had flooded through him.


    "You should talk to Master Therin at the academy," Alea said finally. "He''s the current grandmaster of life aether. If anyone would understand what happened, it would be him."


    Val''s jaw tightened. The academy meant politics, theories, endless debates about the nature of aether. He needed answers, not lectures.


    "I don''t know," he said. "The academy isn''t exactly welcoming to rangers."


    "This is different," Alea insisted. "What you''re describing... it''s not normal, Val. Even for an experienced aether user." She caught his arm, forcing him to stop. "Promise me you''ll at least think about it?"


    Val stared at Alea''s concerned face, the familiar worry lines around her eyes reminding him of their childhood together. She''d always tried to look out for him, even when he didn''t want it. Maybe she was right about the academy. After everything that had happened, he couldn''t afford to ignore any possibility of understanding what had occurred during the battle.


    "I''ll think about it," he said finally, the words tasting like surrender in his mouth. "Once we reach Oakspire."


    Alea''s shoulders relaxed slightly. "That''s all I ask." She glanced over her shoulder at the wagon train, where a thin column of smoke rose from a specially modified cart near the middle of the column. "I should get back. Need to keep my reserves topped up in case..." She didn''t finish the thought. She didn''t need to.


    Val nodded, understanding the precaution. The fire wagon was an impressive piece of engineering. A mobile hearth that allowed fire aether users to cycle and store power even while traveling. He''d seen Alea, during the battle, her flames turning ghouls to ash and saving him from that awful encounter.


    "Be careful with the cycling," he said, unable to completely suppress his protective instinct. "You''re still recovering from the last fight."


    Alea rolled her eyes, a flash of her old self breaking through the battle-worn exterior. "Says the man who turned into a living beacon." She punched his arm lightly. "I know my limits."


    She turned to go, then paused, looking back at him with an expression he couldn''t quite read. "Val... whatever happened back there, whatever that power was. You''re still you."


    The words hit closer to home than he cared to admit. The memory of that overwhelming power still lingered in his mind, tempting and terrifying in equal measure. He managed a tight nod.


    Alea held his gaze for a moment longer before walking away, her red hair catching the sunlight as she made her way through the crowd toward her wagon. Val watched until she disappeared among the refugees, then turned back to his duties. The rearguard wouldn''t organize itself.


    But her words echoed in his thoughts as he walked. Was he still himself? The power that had flooded through him had felt both foreign and familiar, like remembering something he''d never known. And now, with his core feeling hollow and strange, he couldn''t shake the sense that something fundamental had changed within him.


    The crunch of boots brought him back to the present. He had a job to do. The mysteries of his core would have to wait until they reached Oakspire, assuming they all made it that far.


    Val and Kaelen took position at the rear of the column, fifty yards behind the last wagon, watching for signs of pursuit. The Fourth Company soldiers flanked the refugee column, maintaining order and providing protection, while rangers from the combined companies scouted ahead and to the sides.


    The day grew hot as the sun climbed higher, dust rising from hundreds of feet tramping along the road. The pace was agonizingly slow because of the elderly and wounded, as well as the overloaded wagons that struggled on the uneven terrain.


    "We''re making good time," Kaelen remarked as they crested a small hill, looking back at their path. No signs of pursuit yet.


    Val grunted noncommittally. At this rate, they''d reach Oakspire in three days if they were lucky. Three days of vulnerability, traveling through territory increasingly infested with undead.


    "You''re thinking too much," Kaelen said, reading his expression with uncomfortable accuracy. "One step at a time, ranger. That''s how we survive."


    "And if they attack again?" Val asked, voicing the fear that had been gnawing at him since they set out. "We barely held them off at Willow Creek with fixed defenses and rested fighters. Out here, on the road..."


    "Then we do what rangers have always done," Kaelen shrugged. "We adapt. We fight. We die if necessary."


    The blunt fatalism was oddly comforting. Kaelen had always been the most pragmatic of Company Two''s rangers, no false optimism, no sugar-coating, just the hard reality and a determination to face it head-on.


    They walked in silence for a while, scanning the landscape for threats. The terrain here was open farmland, offering good visibility but little cover if they needed to defend themselves.


    "You want to talk about it?" Kaelen asked eventually, his eyes never ceasing their vigilant sweep of the horizon.


    "About what?" Val replied, though he knew perfectly well what Kaelen meant.


    "About how you turned into a walking beacon of light and slaughtered two ogres like they were practice dummies." Kaelen''s tone remained conversational, as if discussing the weather. "About how wounds closed and exhaustion vanished for everyone near you."


    Val sighed. "I don''t know what happened, Kaelen. One moment I was just... angry. Desperate. The next, my core felt like it was going to burst. The power was…"


    "Could you do it again?"


    "Alfen asked the same thing. I don''t think so. Not on purpose, anyway. It wasn''t something I controlled."


    Kaelen nodded thoughtfully. "I''ve been ranging for thirty years. Seen all kinds of strange things, never seen anything like that."


    Val didn''t respond. The day wore on, the sun beginning its descent toward the western horizon. The refugee column had covered perhaps five miles, a pitiful distance under normal circumstances, but reasonable given their condition. Scouts reported no signs of undead activity, which should have been reassuring but only increased Val''s unease.


    As twilight approached, Alfen and the Fourth''s Captain called a halt in a broad meadow beside a small stream. The location offered clean water and relatively defensible terrain. The best they could hope for on the road.


    Val reported to Alfen at the center of the encampment, where the captain had established a temporary command post beneath an ancient oak tree.


    "No signs of pursuit," Val reported, keeping his voice crisp and professional despite his fatigue. "The road behind us is clear."


    Alfen nodded, making a notation on the map spread before him. "Good. Lysa''s scouts report the same ahead and to the flanks. We''ll post a double watch tonight, but I want everyone to get as much rest as possible. Tomorrow will be harder, we hit the forest road before midday."


    Alfen looked up from the map, studying Val''s face. "You look dead on your feet, Valtha. When did you last sleep?"


    Val had to think about the question. "Before the battle? Two days ago, maybe."


    "Get some food and find someplace to rest. I need you sharp."


    "Yes, sir." Val hesitated. "What about the watch rotation?"


    "The army has is covered tonight. You''re off duty until morning." Alfen''s tone made it clear this wasn''t a suggestion.


    Val nodded and withdrew, making his way through the sprawling encampment. The Fourth Company soldiers had organized the refugees into sections, with the wounded gathered near the center where they could be more easily treated and protected. Cookfires dotted the meadow, the smell of simple stews and porridge a welcome change from the stench of battle.


    He found Aric sitting near one such fire, his injured leg stretched out before him, whittling a piece of wood with methodical concentration.


    "Room for one more?" Val asked.


    Aric looked up, a smile briefly lighting his haggard features. "Always, sir."


    Val lowered himself to the ground with a grunt, his muscles protesting after the day''s march. "How''s the leg?"


    "Healing," Aric replied, gesturing to the neat bandage wrapped around his calf. "Elara says I was lucky and the tendon''s intact. I''ll walk with a limp for a while, but it won''t slow me down much."


    "Good." Val accepted the bowl of stew someone passed him, nodding his thanks. "You fought well, Aric. Jorin would have been proud."


    The young ranger''s expression sobered at the mention of their captain. "I still can''t believe he''s gone. Seems like he should walk up any minute and tell us to stop lazing around."


    Val couldn''t help but smile at that, it was exactly the sort of thing Jorin would have done. "He was a good man. One of the best rangers I''ve known."


    "What happens when we get back to Oakspire?" Aric asked, returning to his whittling. The piece was taking shape as a small animal, a fox, perhaps, or a wolf. "To the company, I mean."


    "Whatever happens, we stick together," Aric said with quiet determination. "That''s what Jorin would want."


    Val nodded, unexpectedly touched by the young ranger''s loyalty. "Yes, he would."


    They ate in companionable silence, watching as darkness fell over the encampment. Stars emerged in the clear sky above, countless pinpricks of light that had witnessed countless human tragedies without comment or concern.


    Val finished his meal and stood, his body protesting every movement. "Get some rest," he told Aric. "Tomorrow won''t be any easier."


    He found himself at the edge of the encampment, staring back north toward Willow Creek, now hidden beyond the horizon. The night was quiet except for the soft murmur of the camp behind him and the gentle rustle of wind through grass.


    Val closed his eyes, reaching for his aether core as he had countless times before. It responded sluggishly, depleted from the battle and whatever strange transformation had occurred. The power that had surged through him during the fight was gone, leaving only the familiar, limited well of aether he''d always known.


    "Seems like a bad dream, doesn''t it." Val jumped at the voice as it broke the silence.


    "Didn''t mean to startle you," Toren said, coming to stand beside him.


    "Shouldn''t you be resting?" Val asked, noting how the ranger leaned heavily on a makeshift crutch.


    Toren snorted. "Could say the same to you. Besides, can''t sleep. Keep seeing those ogres whenever I close my eyes." He paused.


    Val sighed. It seemed everyone wanted to discuss something he had no answers for. "I don''t know what happened, Toren."


    "I do," the older ranger said simply. "Saw it with my own eyes. You saved us all." He gestured back toward the camp. "A thousand people breathing tonight instead of feeding the worms. That''s what matters."


    Put like that, it seemed so straightforward. Val wished he could share Toren''s certainty.


    "Get some sleep, Val," Toren said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Tomorrow''s another day of putting one foot in front of the other. That''s all ranging ever is, when you get down to it."


    With that, the older ranger limped back toward the camp, leaving Val alone with his thoughts and the vast, uncaring stars.


    Sleep, when it finally came, brought dreams of light and darkness, of pyres burning against the night sky, and of Jorin''s face in the moment before the ogre crushed him. Val woke before dawn, drenched in sweat despite the cool night air.