Never Ready

Cyneric grumbled as he took his position atop the low hill conveniently placed near the center of the human encampment. It also sat squarely in view of the demon army across the plain - far out of bow range, but close enough that, if he shouted, they might just hear him. Unfortunately, that was exactly what he intended.

His speech was prepared down to the last word; he had memorised it overnight. He was exhausted, but that was part of the job. He muttered something unintelligible under his breath. He hated these wars. Necessary, yes - but unbearably inconvenient. He didn’t want to be out here in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a sea of impending death, with a two-day trek between him and his warm bed at home.

He was vaguely aware of his advisor standing close behind, and of Yejide, the priest, and Kaleo waiting nearby. A grin tugged at his mouth. Seeing a Formy standing openly on the human side would send delicious panic through the demon ranks. He glanced towards their army and caught the sharp flash of sunlight off a telescope. Good. They’d seen.

Even better.

Rubbing his hands together against the cold morning air, he watched as his own troops gathered around the base of the hill. The formation was almost complete.

He sensed someone approach from behind. His advisor leaned in, whispering directly into his ear.

“We’ve confirmed the presence of what we believe to be the last Formys in the world among the demon ranks.”

Cyneric nodded. Not unexpected. A nuisance, but manageable. They could defeat a Formy - easily, if they had J-2 with them. But J-2 had vanished since being sent to locate the demon army, and no sign of him had surfaced.

So Cyneric had only three cards left to play: Yejide, Kaleo, and the priest. The priest, of course, was unusable. Yejide, by far, was his strongest asset.

He glanced at the woman in white silks. Her pale eyes met his. Cold. Detached. Monstrous. There was no other word for a mage as powerful as she was. A shiver crawled down his spine.

He looked away quickly, letting his gaze drift upward.

The sky was empty.

And he hoped - deeply - that it would stay that way.

Jaka withdrew his hand from Miro’s hair as she stirred with a long yawn. She blinked groggily at the clearing around them, smacking her lips - until she spotted the sun’s position overhead. She jolted upright with a gasp.

“Argh! I overslept!”

She spun to glare at him, teeth grit.

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

He raised both hands in surrender.

“You didn’t tell me to.”

She inhaled sharply, then let out a long, tight exhale.

“Well, no use crying over it now. We need to get moving.”

Jaka tilted his head.
“What for?”

She stared at him, one eyebrow arched.

“Have I not told you?”

“No.”

She sighed heavily.

“Fine. There’s going to be a clash between a demon army and a human army. The humans have the advantage, and I’m going to… tip that balance.”

He stared, perplexed.

“I still can’t work it out. Do you like or dislike the demons?”

She scratched at her scalp, tail flicking lazily.

“Well, I have them to thank for my existence… but I also have them to thank for my existence. Double-edged sword.”

He nodded, only half understanding.

“Then why help them, if the relationship is neutral?”

She grinned.

“I never said I was going to help them.”

He just looked at her until she sighed again.

“But yes. I am going to help them. I suppose…”

Another scratch to her head, her ears twitching.

“I suppose it’s because I’m closer to them than I am to humans. You know what I mean. You’re not human either.”

Her grin widened.

“I’d bet anything they already had plans in place to get rid of you the moment you stopped being useful.”

A shiver ran down his spine. He had suspected that. Hearing it spoken aloud made it real.

And then, without warning, another thought slammed into his mind:
There was a demon sitting on his lap.

And he was supposed to kill demons.

His wings unfurled instinctively, eyes narrowing as his internal directives surged. Miro noticed instantly.

“Jaka… oh, I know what that is.”

In a blur, her knife was at his throat - then gone just as fast as the impulse drained out of him. He blinked, disoriented.

“Wh-what…?”

She smiled sweetly as she slid the blade back into place at her hip.

“You had an impulse. Don’t worry, I fixed it. Tell me if you feel that way again, okay?”

He nodded slowly, still processing the sudden blackout.

Miro giggled, then stood with theatrical flair. Despite her small stature, she somehow looked like a general about to lead an army into battle. She thrust out a hand toward him.

“Alright! Let’s get going. We’ve got an army to meet up with.”

He hesitated, then took her hand, rising to his feet. He still didn’t know what he would be forced to do once they arrived - but whatever it was, if it pleased Miro, he would do it.

Ylfa leaned on the balcony railing, gazing out across the lake. The water rippled in gentle patterns, mirroring the soft breeze that barely brushed her skin. The sky above was wide and blue, almost painfully peaceful. She longed to touch it, to be closer to that quiet expanse.

As if summoned by the thought, Jere stepped up beside her, resting his forearms on the railing. She smiled, waiting for his answer in kind, and eased closer until their shoulders touched. The morning was cool, crisp, almost perfect.

Almost.

For a few moments they simply breathed together. Then Ylfa spoke.

“They’re going to start fighting soon, aren’t they?”

He nodded. Across the lake, the two armies sat like dark stains on the green fields.

“Mhm.”

“And it’ll spread here, won’t it?”

Another nod.

“Mhm.”

She sighed.

“Well… I’m still not going to run. Not unless we have to.”

She looked up at him with a small, warm smile.

“Promise you’ll protect me?”

He returned a faint smile.

“If you promise to protect Eny.”

She chuckled and nudged his side.

“Of course.”

They held each other’s gaze, then leaned in for a kiss - slow, lingering, as if it might be the last truly reliable thing left in the world. When they parted, still smiling faintly, their eyes drifted back toward the distant fields.

Jere was already calculating. Once fighting broke out, they’d have half an hour at most before it reached the lake. But for the first time in a long time, he felt worry tug at the edges of his mind. Neither army seemed to be at full strength yet. And this wouldn’t be a simple clash. Something decisive was going to happen here. Both sides had cards hidden up their sleeves.

Some of the human cards were already visible - clustered on a hill a little taller than the rest.

He slipped an arm around Ylfa’s shoulders, pulling her close. She leaned into him, warm and steady. Downstairs, Eny was playing - blissfully unaware, or at least supposed to be. She’d been eavesdropping, of course. Jere had expected as much. There was no point hiding anything at this stage.

Only time would tell.
He savoured the weight of Ylfa against him, the stillness before the storm.

Only time would tell.