CHAPTER TWO: THE MISSION

It didn’t take long for Mika to arrive at the Commandant’s office, her boots echoing lightly against the polished marble floors that gleamed in the flickering torchlight. The early morning silence of the corridor wrapped around her like a cold veil, pressing in as she paused before the ornate golden nameplate: Master Commandant Grants Rogue.

Mika inhaled slowly, holding the breath in her lungs, then released it with care—as though even the air itself were holding its breath. A whisper of dread curled deep in her chest. Something felt off.

She straightened her posture, squared her shoulders, and knocked twice.

“Enter.”

The heavy oak door creaked open.

Inside, Mika was met by three familiar figures: Luna, seated with the bright, barely-contained energy of someone on the edge of triumph; Vice-Commandant Claire Boyce, a tower of silent disapproval with arms folded and lips pressed thin; and the Commandant himself—Grants Rogue. The room smelled faintly of old books, ink, and the tang of iron.

Grants looked up as she entered, his stern face unreadable, his intense stare rooted in experience, loss, and iron will. He said nothing until she closed the door behind her.

“Mika,” he said flatly. “Good. Sit.”

She complied silently, slipping into the chair beside Luna, whose excitement seemed to pulse in waves. Mika kept her expression neutral, but inside, her thoughts raced. This was it—her first real mission.

Grants had a reputation. Not just as a seasoned leader, but as a man who played by rules sharpened like swords. Despite his age, the lines of duty had etched themselves into his face. Rumours had long circulated that his grandfather had been killed by a Spirit during the Great War—and some claimed that hatred had been passed down. But Mika remembered the night he’d spoken to her privately, his voice low after a long sparring match: "I don’t forget what I lost. But I don’t punish the innocent for it either."

Even so, the way his eyes lingered on her now sent a ripple of doubt down her spine.

“I’ll get straight to it,” Grants began, his tone clipped. “This mission marks your first official duty outside the walls of Luyas.”

Luna’s spine straightened as if pulled by invisible threads. Her eyes gleamed. This was what she had trained for—what they both had.

Claire Boyce, the Vice-Commandant, stood like a statue. Her silence wasn’t passivity—it was judgment, watchful and poised to strike with words colder than steel. When her gaze briefly swept over Mika, the young Spirit felt it like a frostbite sting.

“Luna,” Grants continued, reaching into his desk drawer and retrieving a scroll wrapped in golden silk and tied with a crimson ribbon. “You’ll lead. Your first duty is to deliver this scroll to Lord Andania in the northeastern township. You’ve been there before.”

“Yes, Commandant,” Luna responded promptly.

“You’ll guide Mika,” he added. “She’s unfamiliar with the route. Ensure she learns it well. There may come a time she must walk it alone.”

“Understood.”

Mika offered a stiff nod, eyes drawn to the scroll. Why Andania? Why now? she wondered. The opulence of the scroll felt... out of place.

Grants leaned forward slightly. “In addition, you’ll collect two thousand swords from the Andania blacksmiths. Paid for. Inspected. Packed. Deliver them to the Eden Knights stationed nearby the town.”

Two thousand? Mika’s throat tightened. That wasn’t replenishment. That was mobilisation. For war? she dared not say aloud.

Grants went on. “You’ll be accompanied by two senior knights. They are not there to lead you. They are there to observe. You are to treat this like a final examination. Learn from them. Show them what you’re capable of.”

Finally, Claire spoke. Her voice was a precise, razor-thin cut.

“Failure won’t be brushed aside. Make mistakes if you must, but make them invisible.”

“I won’t let you down,” Luna said with quiet authority.

Grants nodded. “Meet us at the North Gate at dawn. We will deliver your final instructions there. Dismissed.”

Mika and Luna saluted and turned to leave. As the heavy door closed behind them, Mika’s heartbeat didn’t slow. Her fingers drifted to the hilt at her hip.

This isn’t just a mission. It’s a test.

A warning.

The sky bled colour across the horizon—rose, gold, lilac. Morning dew coated the stones of Luyas’ main road, and the town was just beginning to stir. Horses were being saddled. Armour glinted in the soft light.

Mika stood with Luna at the North Gate, her breath visible in the cool air. The rest of the brigade waited in a loose formation. Some whispered. Others stared quietly at the town beyond.

Grants and Claire arrived minutes later.

“Captain Luna,” Grants called. “Remember: lead with vigilance. Trust your instincts. The road is rarely what it seems.”

“Yes, Commandant.”

“Your duty is to your team and your mission. Do not fail either.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Grants gave a small nod. His eyes briefly met Mika’s. There was no warmth there—but something unspoken passed between them. Then he turned away.

As the knights mounted up, Mika noticed the way Claire’s brow creased ever so slightly.

“There’s nothing more we can do now,” Grants murmured.

“We could still send another team,” Claire suggested quietly. “It’s not too late.”

Grants shook his head. “The order came from Lord Ranfel himself. We are no longer in control.”

Claire nodded. “Then may the gods walk with them.”

***

Far to the Northwest, between the hills and deep forest dividing Luyas and Andania, lay the veiled sanctuary of the White Wolf Clan. Hidden from the world, it thrived in quiet power. Three towering statues of bronze wolves guarded the entrance.

Beneath their feet were carved the sacred codes: Honour. Power. Discipline.

Inside the estate, harmony danced with tradition. Bamboo halls, polished wood, and quiet footsteps. In the main hall, Suzumi Karou sat with perfect posture, sipping her tea as her gaze followed the rippling koi in the garden’s stream.

Her robes of violet silk whispered with every shift. She brought the teacup to her lips again. Then stopped. Her body tensed. The cup slipped, shattering against the floor. Her eyes turned pure white as visions filled her mind.

Fire. Chaos. Screams. Cities swallowed by shadows. Eyes glowing red. A girl—Spirit-born, blood-soaked, standing alone against the dark.

“They’ve returned,” Suzumi whispered. “The Spirits…”

The visions ended and Suzumi staggered abruptly, holding the side of her head before she rushed out of the room.

***

The kitchen was alive with the scent of garlic and sizzling onions.

Shinji Karou, a man in his early twenties, stood at the stove, sleeves rolled, hair tied loosely back, blade in hand as he sliced the meats with practised speed when the bamboo sliding doors opened.

“Suzumi,” he grunted without turning. “Dinner’s not ready.”

“I’m not here for food.”

He sighed. “You’re never here for food. What is it?”

“I had visions, Shinji.”

That stilled him and he lowered the flame.

“She’s in Andania. I saw her.”

Shinji turned slowly, brows knitting. “Who? One of your tea students?”

“Fool!” she snapped, marching toward him and grabs his collar before yanking him down to her eye-level. “After all you’ve done to keep her hidden — after all we’ve sacrificed — you forgot about her? Your promise?”

Shinji blinked confusingly. But the fog in his memory began to clear. Years of denial. Suppressed memories. A promise made beneath moonlight. His chest tightened.

He stepped back.

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” he growled. “You could’ve said her name. How was I supposed to know you meant her?”

Shinji pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it with slightly trembling fingers, and inhaled deeply. Smoke curled from his lips as old pain clawed back into his chest.

The head chef would throw another fit when he smelled smoke in his sacred kitchen. Shinji didn’t care.

He removed his apron and made for the door.

“Be careful, Shinji,” Suzumi called after him. “I saw blood. So much blood.”

“I’m always careful,” he muttered.

Then he was gone, footsteps swallowed by the mist outside.

***

The high monument atop Andania’s hill shimmered under the morning sun, its towering form casting a long shadow over the bustling town below. It was said that Lord Ezkamen Lut Andania had raised it centuries ago with the help of Witches to form an invisible barrier of protection supposedly sealed into its foundations. To outsiders, it was folklore. To Mika, it now felt like a silent warning.

“We’ve made it!” Luna threw her arms wide, inhaling deeply. “The air is fresher here—must be the forest. Isn’t it just peaceful?”

Mika nodded, though her eyes scanned the skyline. Peaceful on the surface. But what lies beneath?

Luna nudged her with a grin. “Hey, since it’s your first time outside the castle walls, how about we explore the town a bit after we’re done? We can check out the Knight’s Station, maybe grab something sweet. Not loitering—official inspection.”

“We’re supposed to return before noon,” Mika replied cautiously, voice tight with unease. “Vice-Commandant Claire warned us not to delay.”

“Pleeeeease?” Luna begged, clasping her hands under her chin. “Just a little while. We deserve a breather.”

Mika sighed, resisting the smile threatening her lips. “Alright. But a short visit only. And we still report to the Station.”

“Deal!” Luna wrapped her arms around her in triumph. “You’re the best!”

Mika chuckled, but her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword.

Two thousand swords. A mysterious scroll. Urgency cloaked in vague orders.

Mika couldn’t shake the bad feeling of something was coming.