The wind carried the scent of moss and charcoal through the recovering valley, brushing gently across canvas tents and scorched stone. What had once been a battlefield now hummed with a strange, persistent life. Children played near healing streams, their laughter timid but real. Farmers emerged from hiding to reclaim broken fields. The forest, once gnarled and cursed, whispered again in tones of green and birdsong.
The Dawnbound Order was no longer just an idea—it was rising.
Lucian stood at the edge of the foundation they'd begun carving into the hillside—a rough quadrangle of earth that would one day become their new Hall. The stone from the collapsed temple had been salvaged, shaped, and carried by hand, wagon, or magic-infused pulleys. Laila had called the work "the most beautiful kind of punishment."
Lucian didn't disagree. His hands were blistered from the labor. And yet, something about building—not destroying—felt right.
Behind him, a pair of younger volunteers argued about where the new training yard should be placed. One pointed toward the east, citing morning light. The other insisted on southern exposure for warmth. Selia would probably make them duel for it, Lucian thought with a smile.
Laila approached, wiping sweat from her brow. Her sleeves were rolled, and her face was streaked with dust, but her expression was light.
"Walls are going up faster than I expected," she said. "The stonemason from Harridan brought a crew of his apprentices. Good with angles. Bad with shovels."
Lucian smirked. "That's why we have Tista."
As if summoned, Tista strode into view dragging a bundle of lumber twice her size. She dropped it at the base of the unfinished southern wall and exhaled. "If I do any more of this, I'm going to start dreaming in bricks."
Selia joined them moments later, her ever-present ledger in hand. "We've got healers arriving from Lysar. Scholars from the College too—some even defected from the old Arcanum when they heard what we did."
"Defected?" Laila raised a brow. "That's a strong word."
"They're calling us heretics in the capital," Selia said with no small amount of pride. "Apparently, tearing open a gate to the nether realms violates some sacred edict."
Lucian snorted. "We didn't tear it open—we sealed it."
"Details," Selia said. "The point is, they're rattled. Which means they're watching. And that means we need structure. Rules. If this Dawnbound Order is going to stand, it needs more than strong backs and noble ideals."
Tista flopped down on a half-assembled bench. "We need food. That's what we need."
"Already on it," said Laila. "Hunters have been foraging. The land's still shaky, but it's recovering faster than expected. Whatever power the gate had—it's not poisoning the land anymore."
Selia turned her eyes toward the northern peaks. "Still. We haven't heard from the outposts beyond the Divide. That silence worries me."
Lucian's expression darkened. "The gate was only one entry point. If the Others found another path…"
"We'd know," Tista said, her tone grim. "The sky would burn again."
"Unless," Laila added, "they learned from last time. Stayed quiet. Waited."
Selia nodded. "I want to send a scouting party. Small. Fast. North to Viremount, then across the ridge. We need to know what's out there."
Lucian hesitated, then nodded. "Take who you trust. And be careful."
The scouting party left at dawn the next morning. Selia led them herself—four riders on lean horses, each equipped with glyph-burned torches and beacon stones in case they needed to signal distress. Lucian watched them go until the rising sun swallowed their silhouettes.
With Selia gone, leadership of the camp fell to Lucian. He didn't particularly want the role, but the others had looked to him naturally, and he'd given up trying to deflect it.
The next three days passed in a blur of work.
Tista organized combat drills for the younger recruits, many of whom had never held a sword before. Laila helped map out the library, envisioning a dome where records of magic, history, and truth—not propaganda—could live safely.
Lucian divided his time between the forge and the archives. He'd begun reconstructing his father's broken sword—not to restore it as it was, but to forge something new. The metal still sang with quiet memory, and he'd learned enough now to recognize its deeper magic. It didn't want vengeance anymore. It wanted purpose.
One night, while adding kindling to the central firepit, Lucian caught the glimmer of something on the edge of camp.
A shadow.
He rose quietly, hand brushing the hilt at his side, and stepped past the tents. Beyond the last lantern post, the forest loomed, dark and dense. The shape didn't move, but Lucian could feel it watching.
He whispered, "Show yourself."
No reply.
Then a whisper on the wind—so faint he almost doubted it came from outside his own thoughts:
"You wake the world... and the world watches back."
Lucian froze. The voice wasn't human. It wasn't hostile either—just old. Ancient. A presence pressed at the edge of the veil, not trying to break through, but… observing.
Laila stepped up beside him, silent as always. "You felt it too?"
He nodded.
"We're not alone," she said.
"No," Lucian replied. "We never were."
On the seventh day, Selia returned.
Her party was smaller—one rider gone, another wounded. Her eyes were hard, her cloak torn.
"The north is worse than we feared," she said to the assembled council in the partially built Hall.
She unrolled a map and placed a dark stone in the center. It pulsed faintly with corrupted magic.
"This was buried in the ruins of Viremount Keep," she continued. "Not a gate. A beacon. Someone—or something—was broadcasting to the Others."
Lucian leaned in. "Was?"
Selia nodded. "We destroyed it. But it wasn't the only one. We found two more—one inert, one recently active. And we weren't the first to discover them. Something else was there. Something... hunting."
"Hunting the beacons?" Laila asked.
"Hunting the builders," Selia said. "There were bones, Lucian. Cleaned. Crushed. And claw marks like nothing I've seen."
Tista cursed softly. "So the Others sent scouts."
Selia shook her head. "No. Something else came through before the gate fully closed. Something that stayed. And now it's killing anything that dares follow."
The room went silent.
Lucian exhaled slowly, letting the gravity settle. "Then the Dawnbound's first mission is clear. We don't wait for the darkness to return. We hunt what's already here."
"And if it's more than one?" Laila asked.
Lucian looked around the room—at the faces of warriors, scholars, survivors.
"Then we become more than just survivors. We become guardians. Watchers. Flame against shadow."
He raised his hand to the map and pressed his palm over the beacon.
"Let this be the age where we don't just endure… but stand."
And in the glow of their rebuilt fire, the embers of the Dawnbound Order burned ever brighter.