Chapter 37 : back to Ember field

The convoy turned off the main road long before dawn. The regular trail stretched north toward watchtowers and patrols, but Seraphine gave a signal, and the lead wagons veered sharply west. The wheels groaned against frozen earth as lantern light cut across an unfamiliar path, hemmed by tall pines and low mist.
Kael blinked. “This isn’t the map route.”
Lyra grinned, leaning back against the bench. “Of course it isn’t. Normal roads are for normal couriers. We’re on a special one now—emergency delivery route. They’re carved out by the agency for when war makes the highways bleed.”
“Special road?” Kael repeated, his brow furrowing.
Dorian adjusted his spectacles, nodding toward the dark treeline. “Hidden, monitored, and warded. Only licensed Blue Wave convoys are allowed here. It cuts travel time in half and avoids patrols. It’s dangerous, though—bandits, wild spirits, and the land itself doesn’t like being walked upon.”
“And yet,” Lyra added, her voice lilting with mischief, “it’s the only way we’ll make it to Ember Field alive and on time.”
The wagons rattled on, bouncing over frost-cracked stones. Every so often the forest seemed to breathe, shadows twisting into shapes that weren’t quite trees. Ryo kept one hand against his satchel, the orb’s steady pulse an anchor against the unease creeping into his veins. Stellar stayed alert at his feet, ears twitching at every distant snap of branches.
Hours blurred until the horizon softened with the pale blush of dawn. The path widened, the trees thinned, and suddenly the convoy broke free of the woods. Before them stretched a vast field bathed in the glow of ember grass—a strange flora that shimmered red-gold like smoldering coals. Mist coiled low, and where the sun caught it, the whole valley seemed aflame.
“Ember Field,” Seraphine announced from horseback. Her voice carried, calm yet commanding. “Home of the agency’s western branch.”
At the far end of the field stood a fortified outpost, walls carved of black stone and lined with watchlights that burned without oil. Men and women in azure uniforms moved with precision, directing other wagons, beasts, and aerial messengers that swooped down with scrolls tied to their talons.
As their convoy rolled closer, a figure broke from the bustle. He was broad-shouldered, weathered, with hair streaked silver at the temples and eyes sharp as cut steel. His cloak bore the mark of a wave crest embroidered in silver thread, and though he did not raise his voice, the crews around him straightened as he passed.
“Keller,” Lyra breathed, almost like a child spotting a legend. “The chief himself.”
The man strode forward, his boots crunching on frosted grass. His presence alone was enough to silence the wagons as they drew to a halt. He studied each of them—the soot-stained survivors, the tired couriers, the restless young faces clinging to resolve they barely understood.
Finally, his gaze landed on Ryo. For a heartbeat, it felt as though the orb pulsed in recognition, its heat surging through the leather satchel. Ryo clutched it tight, heart pounding.
Keller’s eyes narrowed, then shifted back to Seraphine. His voice was gravel, calm but carrying the weight of command.
“You’ve brought back more than our people.”
Seraphine inclined her head.
Keller’s gaze swept once more over the group, lingering just long enough to make Ryo’s throat dry. Then he stepped aside, gesturing toward the fortified gates of Ember Field.
“ bring them to my office,” he said. “And you’ll tell me everything.”
The gates yawned open, and the Blue Wave convoy rolled forward, lanterns dimming against the red-gold glow of the ember grass. Whatever secrets they carried, they were about to place them in the hands of the man who led the most trusted couriers in all of West Geneva.
And Ryo could not shake the feeling that Keller already knew the burden he bore.

The compound spread like a small city—training yards, stables for courser-beasts, and towers of dark stone humming with mana wards. Couriers bustled everywhere, their uniforms marked with the silver crest of a breaking wave.

Ryo felt at home again, clutching his satchel close.

Keller walked at the head of their group, his pace unhurried but purposeful. He exchanged nods with officers and couriers as they passed, and though he spoke not a word, his mere presence drew respect.

At last, he stopped before a low hall built of blackstone and timber. He held the door open, and his voice rumbled low. “Inside. You’ve traveled far. You’ll find warmth here.”

The hall was lit by braziers that burned with steady azure flame. A long table was set, not with maps or battle orders, but with bread, smoked meat, and steaming tea. Ryo hesitated in the doorway, uncertain if this was truly for them.

“Eat,” Keller said simply. “Even messengers need rest.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. Kael and Aldah sank onto a bench, tearing into bread. Lyra hummed happily over her cup of tea. Stellar stretched, before sitting between Lara and Ryo, Mona stared at him surprised by his choice and the sit next to Vix who gave her the cold shoulder.