Northern Frontier: Last Hope. Finale II.

Three Days Earlier:

Tyran and his squad continued their journey north, leaving behind the village where they had parted ways with Arturia. Surrounded by cold winds and endless snowy plains, they followed a winding path dotted with snow-covered boulders and frozen streams. Winter on the Northern Frontier was harsh, and each step into this uncharted territory took them further from civilization.

Tyran, wrapped in a warm fur cloak, glanced over his shoulder to ensure his men kept up. He felt the weight of responsibility for every warrior in his small squad. His grim thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a rider appearing on the horizon. Arturia's messenger galloped at full speed across the snowy expanse.

As soon as the messenger reached the squad, he quickly dismounted, breathless from the long journey.

- "Commander Tyran, I have a message from Deputy Arturia," he said, handing over a rolled-up scroll.

Tyran nodded and unrolled the scroll, his eyes scanning the encrypted text. He learned of Darius's death and Arturia's plans to return to Ellinor to report.

- "Understood," he said sternly, gazing into the white expanse. - "We must continue. We need to gather as much information as possible and support the mission."

Seeing the determination in the commander's eyes, the messenger nodded, preparing to head back.

- "Be careful!" he added before leaving.

Left alone with the cold and the grim prospect of the journey ahead, Tyran addressed his warriors once more:

- "We continue north. We don't know what lies ahead, but every piece of information we gather can save lives and help us understand what we're up against."

The squad, encouraged by their commander's words, regrouped and pressed on through the blizzard, leaving tracks in the impassable snow. Every sound of their steps was drowned out by the wind, which carried not only snow but also the echo of distant dangers lurking along their harsh path.

On the second day of their trek through the desolate snowy wastelands, Tyran and his squad noticed a silhouette emerging on the horizon. Soon they realized it was a castle, perched atop one of the high mountains. The structure seemed to be part of nature itself: its dark stone walls blended with the gray clouds, and its pointed towers resembled the jagged peaks reaching for the sky.

The castle was surrounded by a massive wall, and despite the visible signs of time and decay, it still commanded respect and fear. The grim towers and menacing gargoyles, which seemed to watch their every move, made the soldiers' hearts beat faster.

- "See that castle?" Tyran addressed his subordinates, pointing to the fortress. - "That is our destination."

The squad looked up, studying the distant structure. Many of them squinted against the cold, but the fire of determination burned in their eyes.

- "We'll gather our strength and begin the ascent at dawn," Tyran continued. - "We're almost there, and we will reach our goal."

That night, they set up camp at the foot of the mountain where the castle loomed above. Tents were pitched among the tall pines, providing some shelter from the harsh mountain winds. The soldiers gathered around the fire to warm up and share their speculations about the castle.

- "It looks ancient, very ancient," whispered one of the soldiers, exchanging glances with his comrades.

- "They say places like this are haunted by spirits and ancient guardians," added another, tossing a log into the fire.

Aerin, a member of Tyran's squad, approached her commander, ready to discuss the plan for the next day.

- "Commander, we have everything we need for the ascent. Ren has checked the equipment. We should be prepared for anything," she said confidently.

Tyran nodded, grateful for her foresight.

- "Tomorrow, we will discover what secrets this ancient castle holds," he said quietly, staring into the campfire. - "And what mysteries are guarded by its grim walls."

Tyran sat by the dying fire, his figure starkly outlined against the glowing embers. The night was cold and silent, with only the occasional whisper of the wind through the pine branches, creating the illusion of voices in the darkness. In his hands was the scroll delivered by the messenger — the latest news from Arturia.

He carefully unrolled the parchment, his eyes falling once more on the hastily written, anxious lines. The news of Darius Crowley's death was like a knife to the heart — a great warrior fallen in battle against an unknown Ancient. Tyran read and reread the words, trying to glean more information between the lines, striving to understand what exactly had transpired.

- "The great Darius Crowley has been vanquished..." The echo of these words reverberated in his mind. The loss of such a leader was irreplaceable, but the mission remained clear — to deliver the information to the capital, regardless of personal feelings and losses.

Tyran slowly rolled up the scroll and looked up at the dark sky. The stars were bright and cold, their light faintly illuminating the outlines of the mountains, among which the ancient castle lay hidden — their next objective. He knew that each step toward the castle brought him closer to the answers they desperately needed to understand the enemy's motives.

Taking a deep breath, Tyran rose slowly. His gaze was filled with determination. He walked over to the sleeping members of his squad, carefully stepping around them to avoid waking anyone. Each one was important, each could be the key to victory or defeat. Tomorrow, they would begin the ascent to the castle, and he needed to be sure everyone was ready for the challenges ahead.

Returning to the fire, Tyran sat down once more, staring into the dwindling flames. He knew that the trials ahead would be as formidable as those Arturia faced. Yet, he felt that each challenge brought him closer to understanding the great threat looming over their world. With the night's silence in his ears and fire in his heart, Tyran remained vigilant, contemplating the days ahead.

At dawn, Tyran and his squad began preparations for a day full of trials. The air was crisp and clean, with a cold wind whispering through the branches, adding a sense of inevitability to the morning hustle. Before setting out, each member of the squad checked their gear: weapons, ropes, climbing hooks, and food supplies. Everything had to be to conquer the path to the summit, where the ominous castle loomed.

Tyran gathered his squad, looking intently at each of his comrades.

- "We have to reach the castle's summit and find any clues about Vancliff," he began, emphasizing the mission's importance. - "But remember friends, our path is fraught with danger, both physical and hidden. We must conserve our strength and stay alert at every stage of our climb."

- "Understand, Tyran," replied Ren, nodding. - "We will be cautious and vigilant."

- "Yes, but keep in mind that danger might also await us inside the castle," added Aerin, clenching her fists. - "We must be prepared for anything."

Tyran nodded, grateful for his squad's understanding.

- "Here's the plan: we will follow the path, avoiding any potential traps, and ascend to the castle. Once there, we must act swiftly and decisively. In case of danger, stay together and support each other. We are a team."

- "Team!" echoed the rallying cries of each squad member, affirming their readiness to follow Tyran.

He stressed the importance of conserving their strength and maintaining focus at every stage of the ascent. Despite the physical challenges of the route, the real danger might lie within the castle itself, as evidenced by the recent news of Darius's loss.

- "We must work together; every step could cost us our lives," Tyran said, scanning the faces of his comrades. - "Remember, we are not just warriors; we are Ellinor's last hope to understand and overcome this threat."

Taking everything they needed, the squad began the slow and arduous climb up the steep slope. The path wound through rocks and low shrubs, sometimes skirting dangerous cliffs where a single misstep could lead to a fatal fall.

As they ascended, the mountain's treacherous terrain tested their endurance and resolve. The cold wind bit at their faces, and the rocky ground made each step a challenge. Tyran led the way, his eyes constantly scanning for potential threats and the best routes to take. His mind was focused on the mission ahead, the fate of their world resting heavily on his shoulders.

The squad moved with determination, each member was aware of the gravity of their task. The camaraderie and trust among them were palpable, forged through countless battles and shared hardships. They were more than just soldiers; they were a family united by a common purpose.

Tyran knew that the key to their success lay in their unity and resolve. As they climbed higher, the castle's silhouette became clearer, its dark towers piercing the sky like sentinels of a forgotten era. The sight was both awe-inspiring and foreboding, a stark reminder of the dangers that awaited them.

- "Stay close and watch your step," Tyran instructed, his voice steady and commanding. - "We are almost there. Remember our training and trust in each other."

The words of their commander instilled a renewed sense of purpose and strength in the squad. They pressed on, their spirits undeterred by the challenges ahead. The journey was arduous, but they knew that every step brought them closer to uncovering the secrets of the ancient castle and the threats it harbored.

With each passing hour, the anticipation grew, mingled with a sense of foreboding. The castle loomed ever larger, its walls whispering tales of old and mysteries waiting to be unraveled. Tyran's resolve was unshakeable, his determination fueled by the memory of Darius and the duty to protect their homeland.

As they neared the castle, the air grew colder, and the wind howled through the crags, echoing like the cries of lost souls. The squad steeled themselves for what lay ahead, knowing that their courage and unity would be their greatest weapons against the unknown perils that awaited them.

Together, they would face whatever trials the castle held, driven by a shared purpose and an unbreakable bond. The climb was not just a physical journey but a testament to their resilience and determination. With Tyran at the lead, they were ready to confront the darkness and emerge victorious, no matter the cost.

As they climbed higher, the air grew colder and thinner, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. The sun, rising above the mountain peaks, cast a picturesque yet grim light on their path, creating long, ominous shadows on the rocky walls. The shadows of rocks and trees stretched out like arrows pointing the way to the heart of the mysterious castle.

They stopped periodically to catch their breath and check the map. Tyran kept a close watch on his team's condition, knowing that their morale and physical state would be crucial in the challenges ahead.

- "How are you holding up?" Tyran asked his comrades.

- "Commander! We're doing fine, though Galan here is scared of heights," Aerin joked, slightly mocking her fellow soldier.

- "Aerin! This is no time for jokes!" Tyran replied firmly, ordering them to move on.

With each passing hour, as they drew nearer to the castle, the sense of the unknown grew stronger, but Tyran and his team remained steadfast in their resolve.

When the sun reached its peak, they finally saw the dark outline of the castle towering on the mountain's summit. The sight reminded them once again of the gravity of their mission and what lay ahead in the coming hours.

As Tyran and his squad reached the summit, they were confronted by Vancliff and his elite unit. The warriors, clad in armor adorned with ominous patterns, were undoubtedly top-tier fighters. Vancliff, with a smile full of cold contempt, stepped forward to meet them.

- "Welcome to the summit, Tyran. I see you've managed to overcome all the obstacles in your path," his voice was smooth, but every word carried a threat.

Tyran, feeling a shiver of tension run down his spine, commanded, - "Squad! Stay alert!"

The intensity of the moment made the air around them vibrate as if before a storm.

- "You'd better not go anywhere," Vancliff clapped his hands, his sardonic smile widening. - "Please, come in and warm yourselves. The journey has been long, and my hospitality should not be refused."

Tyran, holding back his anger and fear, responded sharply, - "We don't need your hospitality, Vancliff. We know who you are and what you stand for."

Vancliff, unable to hide his irritation at such a direct refusal, waved his hand. His elite warriors, previously standing still like statues, sprang into action, closing the distance between them and Tyran's squad in an instant.

- "Well, if you refuse my invitation, then allow me to persuade you to stay," Vancliff said coldly. His voice was filled with menace, and a flicker of cruelty gleamed in his eyes.

Tyran, assessing the situation, felt fear mixed with determination. He nodded to his squad, signaling them to be ready. They tightened their formation and prepared for battle.

- "We won't leave until our mission is complete," Tyran said firmly, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.

Vancliff's elite unit continued their advance, each step deepening the anxiety in Tyran and his men's hearts. But they were ready to stand their ground, protecting each other and their mission.

The elite squad of Vanklif advanced confidently, each of them battle-hardened and resolute. Tiran, seeing them approach, realized that time for deliberation was running out.

- "Prepare for defense!" His command rang out confidently, despite the turmoil inside. Tiran's warriors quickly formed a defensive line, swords, and shields at the ready.

In the center of the formation, Miriel held her twin daggers at the ready. Her eyes keenly observed every move of the enemy.

- "Tiran, there's something wrong here. Look into the eyes of these warriors!" Miriel said anxiously, stepping back. Tiran raised his eyes to the visor level of one of the warriors and saw an unusual blue glow emanating from their eyes.

- "You're right, Miriel. This seems similar to what was reported by Arturia. It seems Vanklif and his warriors are somehow connected to that Ancient one from the cave," Tiran replied, his voice trembling.

Vanklif stopped, his stride confident and authoritative. He looked at Tiran, his eyes sparkling with a cold fire.

- "So, Tiran, you have some idea of who they are, don't you? Are you trying to be a hero? Let me test your resolve," he said, raising his hand, and signaling the attack.

Instantly, the air filled with the sounds of battle. The clash of steel, cries, and groans of the wounded echoed all around. Tiran and his squad fought valiantly, despite being outnumbered.

Aerin and Ren, the squad's mages, began casting spells. Powerful streams of water and air erupted from their fingers, targeting the enemies directly. They created protective barriers, helping their squad maintain their positions.

Vanklif, observing the battle, unexpectedly smiled. His confidence in his victory was undeniable. He slowly stepped forward, ready to face Tiran personally.

- "Time to end this game," he said, his voice cold and decisive.

Tiran, sensing the climax approaching, gripped his sword tighter. He knew that the next few minutes would determine the outcome of the conflict.

The hearts of the warriors beat in unison, each sword stroke, and each spell cast was aimed at protecting their lives and completing the mission. The air was thick with fear and determination, and the sounds of battle drowned out everything else.

Tiran, holding his sword at the ready, closely watched every move of Vanklif. His heart pounded in his chest like a drum, every sense heightened to the limit. Determination shone in Tiran's eyes as he prepared to face his adversary head-on.

Vanklif raised his hand, seemingly preparing a spell. His movements were smooth and confident, exuding calm and composure. Tiran gripped his sword tighter and made his move. A few quick steps brought him closer to his enemy, ready to strike. But then he saw a smirk on Vanklif's face. Instead of attacking, Vanklif abruptly lowered his hand toward Tiran, and loud laughter filled the air.

- "Ah, Tiran, you are so serious!" Vanklif exclaimed mockingly, his laughter sounding like a taunt. - "Did you think I would attack you right now? You amuse me."

Tiran executed a series of precise combinations. But Vanklif remained unscathed.

- "How...?" Tiran said, astonished.

Tiran's warriors, hearing Vanklif's laughter, momentarily froze, their faces reflecting a mix of confusion and anger. But Tiran didn't allow himself to be distracted, his eyes never leaving his opponent. He knew it was just a game, and Vanklif had no intention of stopping there.

- "The jokes are over," Vanklif suddenly said, his face turning cold and serious. - "Now, let's get down to business."

At that moment, an arrow flew from the high castle gates, whistling past Vanklif's face. The arrow pierced the air and struck Tiran right in the center of his forehead. His eyes widened in shock, and he fell to the ground, his body going limp.

- "Tiran!" Aerin screamed, her voice full of horror and pain. She rushed to him, but Ren grabbed her arm, holding her back.

- "No, Aerin! We need to hold our positions," Ren said sharply, his voice full of determination.- "I'll try to break their formation. You must run! You must do everything you can to warn the others! Did you get me?" he said seriously, gripping Aerin's arm tightly.

Miriel, seeing Tiran fall, gritted her teeth and tightened her grip on her daggers. Her face was grim, but the determination in her eyes only grew stronger. She knew she now had to take command and lead the squad to victory.

- "Stay together!" she shouted to her warriors. - "Don't retreat! We must stand our ground!"

The warriors gathered around Miriel, their faces filled with resolve. They knew Vanklif and his elite squad would show no mercy, but they were ready to fight to the end, protecting their lives and honoring their fallen commander.

The battle raged on with renewed intensity. Miriel, leading her people, threw herself into the fray with ferocity, her daggers flashing as they cut through enemies. Chaos swirled around her, but she remained calm and focused, each strike precise and deadly.

She launched a strong attack on two enemy soldiers, momentarily breaking their formation.

- "Aerin! Now!" Miriel shouted with all her might, turning her head.

Hearing the command, Aerin sprinted towards the abyss, leaping into the unknown. Before she jumped, she wished the others:

- "You must all come back alive!"

Vanklif watched the battle with a cold smirk, his eyes burning with ruthless fire. He knew his plan had worked, and now he had the opportunity to destroy Miriel's squad and complete his mission.

- "Oh... how unfortunate that one little mouse escaped the trap..." Vanklif said, barely holding back laughter.

Despite the pain of loss, Miriel continued to fight, her heart filled with determination. She knew their path would be difficult and dangerous, but she was ready to face any trial to protect her people and complete her mission. The fire in her eyes showed she was prepared to fight to her last breath.

Vanklif's elite squad, like shadows, surrounded the remaining fighters of Miriel's group. Their faces were hidden under hoods and helmets, but a menacing aura emanated from them, making the air tremble with tension. Standing in the center with her warriors, Miriel tightly gripped her swords, her gaze unwavering.

- "Ren, Galan, now we have hope..." Miriel said with relief in her voice.

- "You're right, Miriel. We don't need to worry about Aerin. She was the strongest among us. Aerin, the Wind Mage... Good luck to you!" Galan said lightly.

Vanklif, savoring the moment, slowly approached the surrounded group, his eyes glowing with mocking disdain. He stopped a few steps away from them, his voice loud and taunting:

- "So, brave warriors. Still here, shivering in the cold? Maybe you should come inside and warm up? This is my last offer."

Galan, a young elf with a determined expression, stepped forward and firmly replied:

- "Once again! We do not need your hospitality, Vanklif. You are not worthy of our trust!"

Hearing the refusal, Vanklif frowned. His cheerful expression turned into cold fury. He waved his hand, and one of his elite warriors immediately stepped aside, making space in the circle.

- "Such a pity," Vanklif drawled, approaching Galan, who dared to defy him.

At that moment, Miriel seized the chance, swiftly attacking, directing both daggers toward Vanklif.

- "Got you!" Miriel said confidently.

But in the blink of an eye, without hesitation, the same warrior who had stepped aside took the blow on his back, protecting his master. Vanklif, seeing this, continued:

- "You know, after your death, the responsibility for your comrades' demise will rest on you."

With these words, Vanklif snapped his fingers and slowly turned towards the passage leading into the castle. His steps were calm and confident as if he already knew the outcome of this confrontation.

- "Who are you people?" Miriel shouted nervously, pulling her daggers from the enemy's body.

- "Sayonara," he said without turning back. - "I hope your souls find peace in these cold lands."

As Vanklif departed, his elite warriors began their advance. Miriel's fighters, seeing the approaching threat, gathered around their commander, ready for the final battle. Each of them knew that the chances of survival were slim, but they were determined to fight to the last.

Miriel, standing at the forefront, breathed in the cold air and raised her swords. Her voice rang out firm and resolute:

- "We will not retreat! Hold the line and fight with honor!"

The battle began. Vanklif's elite warriors attacked with ruthless efficiency, their movements swift and deadly. Miriel and her warriors fought back with all their might, each strike of their swords accompanied by cries of determination, pain, and the clash of weapons.

Chaos erupted around them. The snow turned red with blood, and the sounds of battle filled the air. Miriel, despite her exhaustion and wounds, continued to fight, her daggers flashing in the light, reflecting her determination and strength of will.

The warriors fell one by one, but they did not give up. Each of them knew that this battle was their last chance to protect their comrades and complete their mission. Even in the face of death, they stood unwavering, ready to fight to their last breath.

Vanklif's elite warriors mercilessly pierced the remaining fighters with their spears. Their attacks were precise and relentless, each movement deadly. The screams of Miriel's warriors tore through the silence, echoing across the snowy expanse, reaching even the closed gates of the castle. Vanklif, already retreating down a long gray corridor, heard these cries and, with a smirk, muttered sarcastically:

- "How unfortunate for those guys," he said to himself, smiling. - "I so wanted to sit with them on soft couches by the fireplace and have tea with them. What a pity."

With that, he laughed, his laughter filled with malicious pleasure and continued his way down the dimly lit corridor.

On the battlefield, though severely wounded, Miriel, Ren, and Galan still stood on their feet. Their strength was waning. Under the relentless assault of Vanklif's elite troops, they fell one by one, leaving behind only warm, blood-soaked bodies. Miriel and Ren, exhausted and injured, remained conscious. They looked at each other, their eyes filled with a mix of pain, sorrow, and determination.

- "Ren..." Miriel whispered hoarsely, barely holding her sword.

- "We did all we could, Miriel," Ren replied, his voice weak but resolute. - "Aerin will make it! Even though she's alone… she must survive!"

Tears streamed down their faces, mingling with blood and sweat. They knew these were their last moments, but their hearts were full of pride for having fought to the very end. Miriel, gathering her last strength, raised her hand to touch Ren's.

- "Thank you, Ren," she whispered. "For everything..."

- "And you, Miriel," he replied, his voice trembling. "See you on the other side..."

At that moment, Vanklif's elite warriors attacked again, their spears slicing through the air, leaving no chance for escape. Miriel and Ren, despite their mortal wounds, continued to hold hands as their lives slowly ebbed away.

Vanklif, not looking back, continued down the corridor, savoring his victory. His steps were confident, his heart cold, knowing that his plan was nearly complete. The silence of the corridor was broken only by the echo of his steps and the distant cries of dying warriors.

Aerin, clutching her cloak tightly, began to intensely absorb Mana Particles into her Mana Core. The Mana energy rapidly filled her, and Aerin redirected it throughout her body, creating a protective air shield around herself. This magical cushion gently cushioned her fall onto the snowy meadow, where she landed with a soft crunch of snow under her feet.

However, the rapid use of Mana caused her to feel an overwhelming fatigue. Aerin closed her eyes for a moment, trying to regain her strength, but the realization of the mission's importance forced her to stand up. She knew well that the lives of her comrades depended on her actions. Gathering her strength, she quickly continued on her way.

The air was piercingly cold, and each breath she took turned into a cloud of vapor. Rising from her knees, she surveyed her surroundings — endless snow-covered expanses glistened under the sunlight, creating a sense of isolated beauty.

Wasting no time, Aerin resolutely headed back to the capital, Ellinor. The snow crunched beneath her feet, and the icy wind made her tighten her cloak even more.

As she passed by the mountain, Aerin surveyed the area for landmarks. Seeing the remnants of an old camp that her team had set up recently, she was overcome with emotions. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She scooped up some snow and, as if washing her face, regained her composure. This simple act made her feel slightly better.

Looking around, Aerin noticed a winding path and immediately started running along it. Using her magic, she transformed Mana Particles into the air element, making her legs and body lighter to increase her speed. Her steps were almost silent, and each stride brought her closer to her goal.

Though the journey was exhausting, Aerin maintained a clear mind. Her thoughts were entirely focused on the mission — to deliver the information about the northern events, the loss of Tyran, and the unexpected developments involving Vanklif to the leadership. Each time fatigue threatened to overcome her, she reminded herself that the lives of many depended on her speed and determination.

Battling through the blizzard, she occasionally stopped to catch her breath, sustaining herself with the magical potions she always carried. These brief stops allowed her to gather strength and resume her march.

Despite the debilitating cold and fatigue, thoughts of responsibility and knowing that the outcome of a great struggle depended on her kept Aerin moving forward.

After several hours, Aerin saw the village where they had previously parted ways with Arturia. Without stopping and without entering the village, she sped past, heading toward the cave. Each of her steps was filled with determination and hope that she would manage to deliver the critically important information to Ellinor in time.

Overcoming the last meters to the cave, Aerin activated her magic to maintain her fast pace. Her breathing quickened, and each exhale became a visible cloud of vapor in the cold air. The sun was already setting, and the long shadows of the trees created ominous shapes on the snow cover. The crunch of snow under her feet rhythmically accompanied her quickened steps.

A profound silence reigned around her, broken only by the sound of her steps and the distant howl of the wind, reminding her of the harsh reality of the Northern Frontier. The sky, gradually darkening, shimmered with the last rays of the sunset, painting the clouds in blood-red hues.

Reaching the cave, Aerin paused for a moment, gazing at its grim entrance. The air around was filled with cold and a heavy sense of foreboding. She clasped her hands together, slowly bowed her head, and in the silence, broken only by the wind, she whispered a prayer for the soul of Commander Darius, wishing him peace in the afterlife. This moment of silence and mourning filled her with strength and resolve to continue the mission despite all difficulties.

Lifting her head, she opened her eyes, which now burned with renewed determination. Taking a deep breath, Aerin turned and looked in the direction Arturia had earlier taken. Gathering her courage, she started her journey further along the snowy trail that wound along the mountain ridge.

The soft snow crunched underfoot, and each step echoed among the trees covered with a thick layer of snow. Twilight began to fall, and the first stars were already twinkling in the growing darkness. Despite her fatigue and emotional exhaustion, Aerin quickened her pace, knowing that every minute counted.

Her goal was clear — to reach Arturia's last campsite and find out how their divided mission had concluded. Reflecting on her task, Aerin felt the weight of responsibility and hoped that she could still change the course of events.

The wind grew colder, and her breath turned into instant clouds of vapor. Aerin filled her lungs with mana again, enriching them with air to quicken her pace and relieve the fatigue in her muscles. She was ready to overcome all obstacles in her path to complete her mission and fulfill the expectations of her fallen commander.

As soon as the sun disappeared behind the mountain peaks, the surrounding world was engulfed in darkness. Aerin, pushing through the cold evening air, felt each breath-form thin streams of vapor. Her feet sank into the soft snow, which grew deeper as she approached the forest. The sounds of the night began to fill the silence, interrupted only by the occasional rustling of leaves and the fall of snowflakes from the branches.

After passing through a small section of the forest, Aerin noticed a faint orange light filtering through the trees. As she drew closer, she saw that the light came from a campfire in a small clearing. The firelight cast eerie shadows on the snow, dancing to the rhythm of the flickering flames.

Using the last reserves of her magical energy, Aerin rushed toward the firelight, hoping to find Arturia's squad there. Each step filled her heart with growing anticipation of the reunion. The air grew colder with the approaching night, and each breath reminded her of the winter chill that enveloped the land. Her feet barely touched the ground as mana, transformed into the element of air, made her movements almost weightless.

As she approached the campfire, Aerin paused for a moment. Her eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, searching for familiar faces among the flickering shadows. Her gaze caught sight of the sentries, alert and watchful. Nearby stood a female figure in armor, reminding her of the loved ones waiting for her in the capital.

Drawing closer, she recognized the figures of the sentries and the woman in armor. It was Arturia's squad, and Arturia herself stood among her people, ensuring the camp's safety. Gathering her last bit of strength, Aerin tried to call out to get their attention, but exhaustion overcame her. Words stuck in her throat, and her legs buckled, unable to support her worn-out body any longer.

Without even uttering a word, from the exhaustion and strain of the past hours, Aerin collapsed into the snow, losing consciousness. Her strength left her at the most critical moment. Her body fell softly, the snow cushioning the fall, but her breathing was weak and shallow, highlighting the seriousness of her condition.

Arturia, seeing the falling figure, quickly approached Aerin, bending over to check her condition:

- "Aerin! Can you hear me?" she called, leaning down and gently supporting Aerin's head in her hands, trying to get any response.

Finding that Aerin was unresponsive, Arturia turned to her squad, her voice stern and commanding. She immediately ordered her people to assist:

- "Medics, over here! We need your help!" she commanded. To the nearby soldiers, she spoke more calmly but with clear instructions. - "We're moving her to the fire. She needs warmth."

Two soldiers carefully lifted Aerin, ensuring not to harm her further, and carried her to the fire. Arturia followed, supporting Aerin's head with a free hand:

- "Quickly, lay her gently by the fire," Arturia directed, worriedly examining Aerin's face. She positioned her so that the warmth from the fire would help revive her without causing discomfort.

The medics began their work, spreading out their supplies and examining Aerin. One of the medics, skillfully working, wrapped Aerin in a warm cloak, trying to retain her body heat and stabilize her breathing. She gave Aerin inhalations of medicinal herbs, intended to help restore consciousness and ease breathing. One of the medics, a middle-aged man, turned to Arturia:

- "We'll do everything we can to help her recover. It's likely exhaustion and hypothermia. We need to make sure she stays warm and gets the necessary medications."

The campfire flickered nearby, casting shadows on their gathered figures, creating a scene filled with both anxiety and hope for recovery.

Arturia nodded, her gaze never leaving Aerin's face.

- "Make sure she stays warm and give her something warming as soon as she comes to. We can't waste time; once she wakes, I need to speak with her," Arturia added.

As night fell, the camp was cloaked in silence, broken only by the quiet instructions of the medics tending to Aerin and the crackling of the fire. Arturia, sitting nearby, waited for Aerin to open her eyes, ready to support her as soon as she regained consciousness.

Kaira and Jean, noticing the commotion around the campfire, quickly approached Arturia, anxiously inquiring about the incident.

- "What happened to Aerin? How did she end up here?" Kaira asked worriedly, trying to get a look at Aerin, who still lay unconscious under the warm furs by the fire.

Arturia, maintaining her calm, replied, - "She arrived here alone, exhausted and cold. I don't know all the details of her journey, but it's clear she endured a great deal. The medics are taking care of her and doing everything they can."

- "Can we help?" Jean offered, his voice filled with readiness to act immediately.

- "Yes, please stay with her. Make sure she's warm and comfortable. Let me know the moment she wakes up," Arturia instructed, pointing to a couple of additional furs by the fire. - "I need to return to the tent and continue planning our next moves."

With these words, Arturia turned and headed to the command tent, leaving Kaira and Jean to tend to Aerin. Kaira settled next to Aerin, gently adjusting the blankets around her, while Jean stood nearby, holding a cup of hot drink in case Aerin woke up and wanted something to warm her.

The night enveloped the camp in deep silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire and Kaira's soothing whispers to Aerin, even though she knew Aerin couldn't hear her. The fire brightly illuminated their faces, casting dancing shadows. The orange tongues of flame rose and fell, casting light on the tents and the figures of the soldiers guarding the camp's perimeter.

- "Hang in there, Aerin. You're strong. We're here, and everything will be alright," Kaira whispered, leaning close to Aerin and adjusting the blankets that shielded her from the cold.

Jean, sitting across from Kaira, watched the fire intently. He added logs to keep the warmth and glanced at the surrounding shadows of the trees, which seemed to try and intrude on their cozy circle of light. The cold air of the Northern Frontier pierced even through the thick pines, creating an atmosphere of harsh stillness around the camp.

- "We must be ready for any challenges," Jean said quietly, looking over at Kaira. - "These lands are full of dangers, and I'm afraid we might face even greater hardships."

Kaira nodded, not taking her eyes off Aerin, whose face was pale but now breathed more evenly under the warm furs.

- "We have to stick together, Jean. It's the only way we'll handle what's ahead," she said, her voice full of determination and confidence.

The forest around them was dark and full of hidden sounds. The wind howled through the treetops, adding a sense of unease to the atmosphere. Occasionally, a rustle or the cry of a night creature could be heard in the distance, but the camp remained relatively calm.

- "Do you think we can find a way to fight the Ancient One and his undead?" Jean asked, his eyes filled with hope, but his voice betraying doubt.

- "We must believe we can, Jean," Kaira replied firmly. - "We can't afford to doubt. Commander Darius gave his life for us, and we must do everything possible to ensure his sacrifice wasn't in vain."

The campfire crackled softly, dispelling the darkness and warming the hearts of those who remained. At that moment, it seemed as if the entire world had shrunk to this small circle of light, where everyone was significant.

Arturia, stationed in her tent, kept her eyes fixed on the maps and documents, meticulously planning their next moves. She understood that tough challenges lay ahead and that every step needed to be thought out in detail.

- "We must be prepared for any surprise," she whispered, reviewing her notes. "We can't afford any more losses."

The camp continued its quiet life, preparing for the new trials ahead. And although the night was dark and full of dangers, in the hearts of these people burned a fire of determination and hope that no winds of the Northern Frontier could extinguish.