Chapter 52: Night Raid at the Forest
Under a moonless sky, a band of cloaked figures slipped silently through dense undergrowth at the forest's edge. They moved with purpose, blades padded to avoid metallic glint, voices hushed. This was a Golden Serpent strike team, tasked with gauging the Ember Circle's nighttime defenses.
A small Ember outpost lay ahead—a wooden palisade around a handful of huts, a watchtower, and a storage shed. Manned by Sparks and a few Flames, it was a minor fortification, yet crucial for maintaining patrol routes. The Serpents planned a swift, brutal probe: if resistance was weak, they could sow terror; if strong, they would vanish, taking note.
Inside, a young Spark on watch stifled a yawn, peering into the gloom. He caught a flicker of movement—perhaps a trick of the wind? He leaned forward, heart pounding. Then an arrow hissed past his ear, thudding into the wooden frame. Shouts erupted. The Ember outpost sprang awake, Sparks grabbing spears, Flames donning helmets and gripping swords.
The Serpents struck from two sides. A grappling hook latched onto the palisade, and two assassins scaled it swiftly. A Spark rushed forward, only to cry out as a short blade found his side. Another Spark hurled a lantern, shattering it and spilling flame, forcing the attackers to recoil. Amid chaos, a Flame captain rallied her troops, ordering a shield line to contain the breach.
Sparks fought fiercely despite their inexperience. They had drilled for this, steeling their nerves, trusting their training. A Serpent warrior tried to slip behind a hut and gut a lone defender, but a well-aimed arrow from the watchtower caught him in the throat. He gurgled, dropping silently.
Outnumbered, the Serpents discovered Ember discipline was no façade. They had expected fear and confusion, not rapid organization. Within minutes, the Serpents withdrew into the trees, leaving two dead behind and carrying wounded back through the undergrowth.
At dawn's first light, Lyrus and his officers visited the outpost. The Sparks trembled from adrenaline and grief at their fallen comrade, but pride sparkled in their eyes. They had stood firm against seasoned assassins. The Golden Serpents learned that even the smallest Ember stronghold had teeth and resolve—no easy prey.
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