Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 31

The weeks that followed fused together into one busy, frantic push for wartime resiliency. Normal life had become a distant memory for most, and occupations, hobbies, and obligations were pushed to the side for the greater good.

Each hour, new travelers poured into Havenbrooke from the far corners of Ells, bringing with them food, supplies, and soldiers. Within days, we'd filled every home and commercial building to the brim with refugees and voluntary military workers. Then, once we reached capacity, a boom town materialized outside the capital—a makeshift city of federates, outcasts, and those previously denied the right to make a difference.

But as exhausting as my schedule was, it did keep my mind occupied...and far away from the looming threat of extinction.

I spent my mornings arguing over battle strategies with the Command and my afternoons weaving rope for Mason's contraptions, assisting Victor in his bootcamp, delivering supplies to the blacksmiths, or escorting new arrivals to their workstations. On rare occasions, I had time to pop into one of Valerie's archery lessons, where men and women shot at wooden targets, and young children helped gather fletching materials for new arrows.

In the evenings, the army gathered at the campfires in the lower valley, too weary for anything but sharing a hardy meal and personal histories.

As for me, my nights involved isolating myself in my tent, flipping through Aila's journal, and doing my best to translate the contents as Richard snored beside me. Other times, I skimmed through the Ancient records I'd borrowed from the archivist to learn more about the Mad Commander. Or, as her own people called her, Aquarius—the Water Bearer.

And it was in those quiet moments of solitude that thoughts of Will bubbled to the surface. Moments when I wondered what the royal heir was up to, or if he missed me as much as I missed him.

You know, like some kind of lovesick buffoon.

But tomorrow always promised a new problem to solve, and even better, a proper distraction, and this morning was no different.

Rover and I walked side by side on our way to the gambrel roof barn, the army's newly designated HQ. Our boots padded across the saturated earth, and the respite from the snow did wonders for my mood. The valley had finally dethawed, and the winter crops were thriving in their cloches, cold frames, mini hoops, and greenhouses.

It wasn't enough to sustain our growing army, nor an overpopulated capital city, but thankfully, our rural migrants had come bearing gifts—and wagons full of smoked meat.

"The greenies seem to be faring okay," Rover said, nodding to our left, where young soldiers filled their lunch trays at the cook shack. "No one seems to be picking any fights. At least not with Jo and Gris around."

"If anything, those two are the instigators," I joked, smiling at the way the intimidating soldiers prowled the lunch tables, searching for someone to make an example of.

Rover was right, though. Cooperation had been remarkable across all departments and demographics, and it wasn't limited to the federal army. In the fields, city slickers finally got a taste of rural labor, and up on the hill, Siren put the elites to work building weapons, collecting supplies, or preparing food for a hungry nation. Litigated societal boundaries had all but eroded under Martial Law, and there was no room for discrimination with war on the horizon, not when Siren and Rover's company demonstrated that harmony was not only feasible, but necessary.

In the throes of paranormal warfare, we were all equals.

Eventually, Rover and I came upon a group of young soldiers leaning against the side of the barn. The men stood with their backs to us, and I suspected they were hiding from their superiors in hopes of prolonging their lunch break.