The Night Watch

Sai had moved a little apart from the others, settling with his back against a broad, moss‑veined trunk. The night chill began to seep through the fabric of his shirt, clinging like damp breath. He didn’t shiver—just pulled his knees up slightly and folded his arms. Fire pops echoed through the woods like distant gunshots, sharp against the hush, and he watched the glow pulse against the trees like a heartbeat trying to stay alive.

Closer to the fire, Eira sat cross-legged, dragging a stick through the dirt with absent rhythm. Her fingers danced lazy spirals, intersecting circles, and symbols that probably meant something only to her. The flames reflected in her eyes—eyes that had seen four straight days of nightmare, blood, and stone. Every so often she glanced toward the massive doors of the mountain now hidden in twilight, as though expecting them to open again at any moment and pull them all back in.

But they stayed shut. Silent. The outline of the cube-mountain was slowly vanishing into the darkness, becoming just another part of the landscape.

Corvin, unable to sleep just yet, lay on his back on one of the makeshift pine beds, arms folded behind his head. The first stars bled through the indigo sky above, faint and scattered.

“You think the weapons are a gift or a joke?” he asked quietly, breaking the calm without quite disturbing it.

Sai flexed a hand around the pommel of his sword, which rested across his lap. “Both, maybe. A gift that doubles as a threat.”

“We walked out,” Corvin mused. “But should we have? Maybe it’ll be worse out here.”

The fire cracked again. An ember spiraled upward into the dark, slowly fading. Their words, too, vanished into the night, sleep began claiming them one by one.

Reith moved quietly around the edge of the clearing, his silhouette drifting like a ghost between the trees. His eyes wandered between the dense tree line, the moonlit stone mountain, and the deep navy sky above. With no ticking clock now, the moon had become his only way of marking time. It crept slowly across the sky like something reluctant to leave.

Hours passed. When the fire began to shrink, he added more of Corvin’s branches, careful not to disturb anyone. The flames flared slightly, painting shadows against the rocks and trees. As he stood to walk another circuit, his scythe scraped against the rocky ground with a high whispering rasp.

Mira stirred immediately. Her eyes opened just in time to catch Reith wander off, his silhouette framed in the moons silver light .

She rolled to her feet without sound, brushing dirt from her pants. A glance at the moon told her enough, her turn was starting anyway. Grabbing her bow and slinging Eira’s naginata across her back—just in case—she followed the path Reith had walked.

She found him seated on a fallen log, hunched forward, arms resting across his knees and his scythe standing as it sat between his arm and leg. His face was unreadable, staring out into the void between the trees.

“See anything?” she asked softly, partly to announce her presence.

Reith didn’t startle. “Nothing hostile,” he said. “Not yet, at least. A deer took off when it caught my scent. Other than that, the woods feel… empty.”

He exhaled, slow and low, like someone disappointed the answer had been so uneventful.

“Empty is suspicious,” Mira said, stepping up beside him. She glanced over her shoulder at the sleeping camp—Corvin splayed out with one leg twitching, Sai slumped in a seated doze, and Eira curled next to her dirt drawings like they might protect her from dreams.

“But empty might be exactly what we need tonight,” Mira added. “Everyone’s stretched thin.”

Reith gave a nod. “Yeah. I guess so.”

They sat in the quiet for a while, the crackle of fire and the whisper of crickets the only sounds. The sky above stretched wide and unfeeling, stars beginning to take their places like watchers behind a veil.

Mira shifted where she stood, glancing at Reith. “You think the door reopens?”

Reith tilted his head toward the mountain. “If that’s a possibility… I’d rather not be around when it does. Once was enough.”

Mira gave a brief, tired smile, then stepped around the log and sat down on the ground resting her back against it. Her shoulder brushed his arm lightly. The arrow remained nocked in her hand, but the tension in her posture had faded.

The fire behind them had settled into a steady, low pulse. The air had grown colder, the edges of the night sharpening. Reith glanced back at the others, scanning for movement—Corvin’s soft snoring, Eira’s stillness, Sai with his sword unmoved.

He frowned faintly.

“You’ve noticed it too, haven’t you?” he asked.

Mira blinked. “Hmm?”

“Sai hasn’t drawn his sword fully. Not once. Corvin can’t cut a damn branch. And Eira…” he glanced at the naginata Mira had with her, “well, you’ve got her weapon with you.”

Mira sighed. “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about that too. Seems like it’s just you and me who know what we’re doing with what we were handed. I’ve had training… and you’ve got some experience with you.” She looked down at his scythe.

Reith didn’t answer for a moment. Then, “Feels wrong. Like they were given tools with no instruction. Like a test set up to watch them fail.”

Mira nodded slowly. “I feel bad for them, honestly. They got thrown into this with nothing to rely on. And whatever happens next—” she didn’t finish.

“—they’re vulnerable but so are we,” Reith said.

Above, the moon crested the trees, casting the clearing in a pale silver light. The stone ring of their fire pit, the five pine beds, and the lazy curl of smoke made the camp look almost peaceful—like something carved from a memory. But the peace was brittle. Too quiet. Too still.

Somewhere beyond the treetops, an owl hooted. Mira’s head tilted slightly as she listened. A new sound in an unfamiliar world.

Her eyes flicked upward toward the moon and, without meaning to, caught Reith’s tired gaze.

“You know,” she said, her head gently nudge against his leg, “it’s my watch now. Get some sleep.”

Reith didn’t argue. He stood wordlessly, stretched his back, and walked back toward the fire. The pine needles barely rustled beneath his feet. Corvin muttered something in his sleep, and Reith slid into the bedroll next to him, closed his eyes, and was gone almost immediately.

Mira turned back to the forest with a genuine smile, watching his breath even out. Just one hour. I can survive that.

She stood, bow in hand and Eira’s weapon still across her back, and made her way slowly around the far side of the camp—eyes sharp, steps soft.

In the stillness, the mountain behind her seemed to fade into the forest like a secret already half-forgotten.