Chapter 4 FIRST BLOOD

ETHAN'S POV

The wagon wheel broke with a crack like thunder.

I jerked awake as our supply wagon tilted sideways. Soldiers cursed and scrambled out before it tipped completely. We'd been marching for three days straight, and exhaustion made everything feel like a nightmare.

"Everyone out!" Captain Helena shouted from her horse. "Fix it or we leave it behind!"

I climbed down, my legs stiff from sitting. Around us stretched the Crimson Frontier the border region where the war was being fought. The land looked dead. Trees burned to black skeletons. Fields trampled into mud. The sky hung gray and heavy with smoke.

This was war. Real war.

"Ethan, help me with this wheel," Marcus called.

We worked together to lift the broken wagon while others replaced the damaged wheel. My hands were blistered and bleeding, but I didn't care. Pain meant I was still alive.

And after three days of watching Captain Helena, I was grateful to still be alive.

She'd been watching me since the night I overheard her conversation. Not obviously. Just enough to let me know she hadn't forgotten. Every time I looked up, her cold eyes were there, reminding me that one wrong move would be my last.

"Movement ahead!" a scout shouted.

Everyone grabbed weapons. My heart jumped into my throat.

But it wasn't orcs. It was people.

Refugees.

They shuffled down the road toward us—maybe fifty people, all carrying whatever they could save. Old people. Women. Children with hollow eyes and dirty faces. They looked like ghosts.

"Make a path!" Helena ordered. "Let them through!"

As the refugees passed, I saw their injuries. Burns. Cuts. One woman held a baby that wasn't moving. I looked away, feeling sick.

"Where are you from?" Sarah asked an old man.

"Clearwater," he said, his voice broken. "The orcs came three nights ago. Killed everyone who fought back. Burned everything."

Clearwater. I remembered that name from the attack reports. Another village destroyed. More innocent people dead.

But was it really orcs? Or was it the Silver Covenant creating more "evidence" for their war?

"Did you see them?" I asked. "The orcs who attacked?"

The old man looked at me with confused eyes. "See them? Boy, I barely escaped with my life. It was nighttime. Everything was fire and screaming."

"But you're sure it was orcs?" I pressed.

"Who else would it be?" He shuffled past, following the other refugees south.

I watched them go, my stomach churning. If the Silver Covenant was burning villages at night, the survivors wouldn't know the difference between orc raiders and human soldiers in the darkness.

"Stop bothering refugees with stupid questions," Helena's voice cut through my thoughts. She sat on her horse, staring down at me. "Get back in formation. We march in five minutes."

I nodded and turned away, but I could feel her eyes on my back.

We marched until sunset. My feet blistered. My shoulders ached from carrying my pack. Around me, other recruits looked just as miserable.

"How much farther?" Thomas asked.

"We're almost there," a veteran soldier replied. "You can smell it."

He was right. The wind carried a smell that made my stomach turn. Sweet and rotten at the same time.

"What is that?" James whispered.

"Death," the veteran said simply.

An hour later, we reached the military camp at the Crimson Frontier. Hundreds of tents spread across trampled ground. Soldiers moved everywhere—wounded men being carried to medical tents, fresh troops drilling, messengers running with urgent orders.

This was the real war. Not training. Not practice. Real.

"New recruits, follow me!" A sergeant led us to an empty area. "Set up your tents here. Evening meal in one hour. Battle briefing at dawn."

Battle briefing. At dawn.

That meant we'd be fighting tomorrow. Actually fighting. Possibly dying.

I set up my tent next to Marcus, my hands shaking. Around me, other recruits did the same. Nobody talked. We were all thinking the same thing: this might be our last night alive.

"I need to find the latrine," I told Marcus.

"Want company?"

"I'm fine."

I walked through the camp, trying to memorize the layout. But really, I was looking for any sign of the Silver Covenant. Any evidence. Anything.

That's when I saw it.

A body on a stretcher, covered with a sheet. The wind blew the sheet aside for just a moment.

The dead soldier was my age. Maybe younger. His eyes were still open, staring at nothing. A wound across his chest. Blood soaked through his uniform.

I couldn't look away. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't process that tomorrow that might be me.

"First time seeing a corpse?" A medic walked over and covered the body again. "It never gets easier. That boy died this morning. Seventeen years old. His mother doesn't even know yet."

Seventeen. A year younger than me. A kid who should have been studying or falling in love or living. Instead, he was dead on the battlefield.

"What was his name?" I asked.

"Does it matter?" The medic walked away, leaving me alone with the covered body.

Yes, I thought. It matters. Every death matters. Every life matters. This boy wasn't a number in a report. He was a person.

And if the Silver Covenant was starting this war on purpose, they were responsible for murdering him.

I walked back to my tent, rage burning in my chest. I had to stop them. Had to expose the truth. But how? I was just one recruit among thousands. One soldier who would probably die tomorrow.

That night, I couldn't sleep. None of us could. We lay in our tents, listening to the sounds of war in the distance. Explosions. Shouting. Screams.

"You awake?" Marcus whispered from the tent next to mine.

"Yeah."

"I'm scared," he admitted. "I talked a big game about being a hero, but now that it's real... I'm terrified."

"Me too," I said.

"Promise me something," Marcus said. "If I die tomorrow, tell my father I fought bravely."

"You're not going to die."

"Promise me, Ethan."

"I promise," I whispered, even though I knew I might not survive to keep that promise.

Before dawn, a horn blasted through the camp. Everyone scrambled out of their tents. Captain Helena stood on a platform, her face hard in the torchlight.

"Today you become soldiers!" she shouted. "Today you stop being children and start being warriors! The orc army is three miles north. At dawn, we march to meet them. At dawn, you prove you're worthy of the kingdom's trust!"

My hands shook as I strapped on my armor. Marcus helped me with the buckles. Sarah checked her sword. James looked like he might throw up. Thomas's usual grin was gone.

"Stay together," Sarah said. "Watch each other's backs. We all go home, or none of us do."

We nodded. What else could we say?

The march to the battlefield took an hour. The sun rose slowly, painting the sky red. Blood red.

We reached a valley between two hills. Perfect place for a battle. Perfect place to die.

"Formations!" sergeants shouted. "Shield wall in front! Spears behind! Archers on the flanks!"

I took my position in the shield wall. Marcus stood to my left. A veteran soldier I didn't know stood to my right. We locked our shields together, creating a wall of wood and metal.

"Remember your training!" Captain Helena rode along the line. "Hold the formation! Trust your brothers! Kill the enemy!"

My heart hammered so hard I thought it would burst. Sweat dripped into my eyes. My legs wanted to run, but I forced them to stay still.

Then I heard it.

Drums.

Deep, rhythmic drums echoing across the valley. The sound made my bones vibrate. Made my blood run cold.

"They're coming!" someone shouted.

I looked across the valley. At first, I saw nothing. Then movement. Lots of movement.

The orc army appeared over the northern hill like a dark wave. Hundreds of them. No—thousands. They marched in formation, their own drums beating, their war cries filling the air.

They were huge. Even from this distance, I could see how much bigger they were than humans. Muscled like bears. Armed with weapons that looked like they could split a man in half.

"Hold your positions!" Helena screamed.

But I couldn't hold anything. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Couldn't do anything except stare at the army coming to kill us.

This was it. This was real. In minutes, those warriors would crash into our lines. In minutes, I would either fight for my life or die.

The drums got louder. Closer. The ground started to shake from thousands of feet marching.

I gripped my sword so hard my knuckles turned white. Beside me, Marcus whispered a prayer. Sarah stood ready, her face set with determination. James looked frozen with terror.

The orc army was three hundred yards away. Two hundred. One hundred.

I could see their faces now. See their eyes. See their weapons raised high.

This was happening. This was really happening.

The drums reached a crescendo. The orc army charged.

And I realized with absolute clarity that in the next few seconds, I would discover if I was strong enough to survive war—or if I would die in my first battle, just another nameless body on a battlefield, another victim of a war built on lies.

The orc warriors crashed toward us like a tsunami of death, their war cries drowning out everything, and all I co

I'muld think was: I'm not ready. I'll never be ready.

But ready or not, the war had found me.