Night fell thick and heavy over the Outpost, the kind of darkness that felt alive, shifting and breathing around every corner. The torches on the outer walls flickered against the cold wind, casting long, trembling shadows that danced like restless spirits.
Talon stood near the main gate, her breath curling in front of her like smoke. She rolled her shoulders back, feeling the weight of her armor settle into place. Her kinje pulsed faintly, a quiet promise of power beneath her skin.
Beside her, Tony adjusted his final blade, tucking it into his boot. His eyes scanned the darkness beyond the walls, every muscle in his body coiled tight.
Janzo arrived last, his cloak billowing behind him, a satchel of flasks clinking at his side. His eyes were wide with fear, but something else glimmered there too — resolve.
"You shouldn't be here," Talon said, her voice low but steady.
Janzo shook his head, setting his jaw. "I don't run from family."
For a moment, Talon's hard edges softened. She gave him a quick nod, then turned as a guard ran up, breathless.
"They've started to move," the guard panted. "They'll be at the outer gate within minutes."
Tony's eyes narrowed. "We hold them at the chokepoint. Force them into narrow lines, and pick them off before they breach the market square."
Garrett appeared, sword already drawn, eyes dark and unreadable. He took his place next to Talon, their shoulders almost touching.
"Last chance to run," Garrett muttered, though his smirk betrayed him.
Talon shot him a sidelong look. "We're done running."
Above them, the war horns shrieked again, this time closer. The ground trembled faintly under the mercenaries' march.
Tony slipped past them, climbing onto a low rooftop for a better vantage point. From there, he could see the rows of enemy torches moving like fiery serpents through the valley. He glanced down at Talon, then gave a single, sharp nod.
"Positions!" Talon barked, her voice ringing clear in the night.
The Outpost guards scrambled, dragging crates and wagons into makeshift barricades. Janzo uncorked several vials, setting them in quick reach. One flask shimmered with an eerie blue light, and Janzo hesitated before tucking it deeper into his belt.
Garrett turned to Talon, gripping her arm for just a moment. "Whatever happens… don't hold back."
Talon's eyes burned like distant stars. "I won't."
Then, like a wave crashing against the cliffs, the mercenaries slammed into the outer gates. Wood splintered under axes, arrows soared over the walls, and the air filled with the metallic tang of fear.
Tony let out a sharp whistle from above, signaling the first move. Talon surged forward, her kinje sparking violently as she cut down the first attacker who managed to breach the barricade. Garrett followed close behind, his blade moving with deadly precision.
Janzo tossed his potions one after another, creating clouds of burning smoke that forced the enemy lines to stagger. Sparks flew as flames danced across the stone pathways, lighting up the defenders' determined faces.
Through it all, Tony moved like a ghost on the rooftops, his knives striking silent and true. Each time he vanished into the dark, another mercenary fell screaming.
Hours blurred into a brutal, chaotic rhythm. Blood stained the streets, and bodies piled near the gates. But slowly, inch by inch, they pushed the enemy back.
Finally, as the first light of dawn broke across the valley, the last of the mercenaries fled into the hills, leaving only silence and broken armor in their wake.
Talon stood at the gate, chest heaving, her kinje's glow fading as she dropped her blade to her side. Janzo stumbled toward her, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped another vial.
"We… we did it," he stammered, wide-eyed.
Garrett leaned on his sword, wiping blood from his brow. "For now," he said quietly, though a small smile tugged at his lips.
Tony jumped down from the rooftops, landing lightly. He looked around at the battered, exhausted defenders, then at Talon. His eyes were softer now, the sharp edge momentarily gone.
"You're not just a survivor anymore," he said, his voice low but firm. "You're a leader."
Talon looked back at him, sweat and blood streaking her face, but her eyes were clear and bright.
"No," she corrected, stepping forward to rest a hand on his shoulder. "We're all leaders tonight."
As the rising sun spilled over the Outpost, broken but still standing, a quiet understanding passed between them. They had faced death together and chosen to fight for something more than survival.
A home. A family.
And as the morning wind carried the scent of smoke and victory through the Outpost streets, Talon knew this was only the beginning.
She turned toward the horizon, her chin lifting as if to meet the next storm head-on.
"Let them come," she whispered again, this time with a quiet smile.