They say the battlefield is a place where men lose themselves. I disagree.
I believe it's where you meet the part of yourself you've always ignored.
The wind tugged at my cloak as I stood at the edge of the command ridge, my eyes sweeping the chaos below. Smoke curled upward from burning carts. Bodies, some ours, some theirs, lay scattered like forgotten dice from the gods' cruel game. My armor bore fresh scars, and my silver wolf crest glinted, catching what little light remained in this ash-dimmed sky.
Captain Aurelle approached with a salute. "General Thorne. The second squad requests reinforcement at the western ridge. They're holding, but just barely."
I exhaled, measured. "No reinforcements."
She blinked. "Sir?"
"They're bait."
A pause. Then her mouth tightened. She didn't like it, but she understood.
"Send in the third archers on my mark. Tell them to wait for the signal. I want the enemy overextended before we collapse the ridge."
"Yes, General."
She left with the message, and I let my fingers curl into a fist behind my back.
The weight of command never lessens, they say. I think it just settles deeper.
I remember the day my father died. He lay beneath the broken spires of Verdanth Keep, blood pouring from his mouth as he clutched our torn house banner. His eyes, still proud. Still furious.
"We are wolves, Caelum. But not savage ones. Righteous virtue, always. Remember that. Fight with mind and honor, not rage."
The crescent wolf crest has passed down our line for three generations. It symbolizes vigilance and restraint. Mercy when possible. Precision when not.
But this war has tested every corner of that philosophy.
Especially her.
Ayaka Rin.
I've never faced her in person. But I've fought her shadows. Her traps. Her rumors. Every piece of misinformation that crumbles morale. Every soldier who defects after a whisper in the wind. Every map that turns out to be fake.
She doesn't fight like a warlord.
She fights like the whisper of doubt before sleep. Like poison poured into your wine three days ago.
"General!" Sergeant Brann called out, riding up in a storm of dust. "The demon lines are starting to shift. The bait's working."
I gave a tight nod. "Signal the archers."
He grinned, then hesitated. "Sir… is it true what they say? That she once served our side?"
So it had reached even the ranks.
"She was a strategist in the Northern Legion", I said quietly. "They betrayed her. I've read the reports. She was left behind at Dreadspire Ridge."
Brann's smile faded. "And now she fights for them."
"She doesn't fight for them", I muttered. "She uses them."
Brann seemed to shiver despite the heat. "What kind of person does that?"
"A human one. One who no longer believes in the words we tell ourselves about honor."
He was silent a moment. Then, "She scares the men."
"She should."
And so do I.
The signal flare burst into the sky. A sharp red streak.
Moments later, our archers rained fire on the advancing demon flank. Caught off guard and stretched too far, they buckled. Panic rippled through their lines as we surged forward, driving them back with coordinated fury.
We didn't cheer.
There was no triumph. Just exhaustion and necessity.
Later, as dusk fell and the wounded were tended to, I sat beside the war-map beneath our command tent, fingers tracing the new red lines.
She'd expected us to crumble under pressure. She underestimated my restraint.
Still…
I looked up as Aurelle returned, holding a dispatch scroll. Her eyes were sharp.
"Another defection", she said. "Two of our scouts turned up in a demon camp. They say she offered them mercy and… insight."
I laughed. Once.
Not bitter. Not angry.
"Insight", I repeated. "She's winning minds now."
"She's building something", Aurelle murmured. "Not just tactics. She's reshaping belief. Even the demons follow her plans like zealots."
I looked down at the crescent wolf on my chest-plate.
"I know", I said. "And that's why I'll stop her."
"By outthinking her?"
"No", I said, eyes narrowing. "By making her believe she's already won."
Aurelle tilted her head. "And what happens if she actually has?"
I didn't answer.
Because that… was a question I was starting to ask myself.