《Neverfall》 Shots
Gideon Vogt lifted the shot glass to his lips, the amber liquid swirling, reflecting the dim light in fractured patterns, much like the fragments of his mind. He downed the liquor in one smooth motion, feeling the burning sting to his eyes and nostrils before slamming the glass down hard against the counter. Bang. The echo reverberated in his ears like a gunshot, like the rifle blasts of a funerary salvo. As the shot glass hit the wood, the sound wasn¡¯t just a dull thud¡ªit was a trigger. In that brief, silent moment after the glass hit, the world seemed to split. The murmur of voices around him faded, drowned out by the deafening crack of rifles, a memory he couldn¡¯t escape. He could hear them¡ª soldiers of theWachbataillon, their rifles firing in perfect, practiced unison adhering to the stern barks from their commanding officer. The blasts echoed like a memory carved in stone. The officer¡¯s voice had been firm that day, as though the weight of it all was merely another routine for him. Even though the rifles were aimed at the sky and fired blank rounds, Gideon felt every shot. Bang. The shot glass hit the bar again, and the gunfire returned, louder, more insistent. Three shots, sharp and unforgiving, the final salute to his fallen brothers-in-arms. His hand trembled as he reached for the bottle, pouring another shot with an unsteady grip. The liquid sloshed over the rim, dripping onto his fingers but he didn¡¯t care. He didn¡¯t wipe it away. He lifted the glass, but as he brought it to his lips, the bar disappeared. For a split second, he was back in that damned forest¡ª the smell of gunpowder thick in the air.His team was there, all of them¡ªsilent shadows, standing at attention in their uniforms. They waited for the order that never came. They waited for him. Gideon blinked, hard, the glass shaking in his hand as the vision faded, replaced by the dimly lit bar. He swallowed the shot, feeling the burn as it traveled down his throat, trying to extinguish the fire in his chest. He slammed the glass down again. Bang. Another rifle shot echoed in his mind. He could see their coffins now¡ªdraped in the black, red, and gold stripes perfectly aligned, the fabric pulled tight with military precision. The black stripe was draped across the head, a shadow over what once was, while the gold reached down to the foot, as if it could offer some final piece of dignity.The flag meant nothing. Not anymore. Bang. Another shot. Another memory. Their faces blurred together, ghosts that haunted his every waking moment. He had watched them fall. He had watched them die. And now, every time he closed his eyes, it was their eyes staring back at him.Shot after shot, glass after glass. Each one a small death, each slam of the glass against the bar a reminder of his failure.The whiskey burned in his throat, but it was nothing compared to the burning in his chest. Gideon let the glass fall from his hand, his grip slackening. It clinked against the bar but didn¡¯t shatter¡ªjust like him. Not broken yet, but far from whole. He blinked hard, trying to focus on the blurred shapes around him, but their faces slipped into his mind, uninvited and unrelenting. The drink should have dulled them, should have silenced the memories. But it never did. The bartender shot him a look, but Gideon ignored it. He wasn¡¯t here to be saved. Not when he can''t save his soldiers, his friends - his found family.
He could almost hearElara¡¯s voice first¡ªthe way she used to tease him, her sharp elven features softening only when she thought no one was looking. She always thought she knew better. Because she did. Centuries old yet appeared only in her late twenties, with eyes that had seen far more than his ever would, she had been the team¡¯s silent guardian, always watching from the shadows with her sniper scope. Aside from her position in the squad as the sniper, she was their main counselor, mentor, and mother figure. Elara had taught her team many things she picked up during the course of her life be it in military or civilian fields. For Gideon, one of their most cherished memories would be when Elara taught him how to make elven bread, honey, wine, and other such cuisines. Another was when he asked her to take his position as squad leader as his experience was nothing compared to hers, but the elf firmly yet gently rejected his proposal because she wanted him to learn about proper field leadership and assured him that she will be there to guide him and the others too. But most importantly, she taught him how important it was to have a balanced life. "Zu viel von allem ist f¨¹r nichts gut." Elara''s motherly voice cooed after Gideon poured too much water on his first ever batch of elven bread dough. Gideon knew the saying well.Too much of anything was good for nothing¡ª a lesson he had learned the hard way. Gideon let out a sad, hollow chuckle. She would undoubtedly yell his ears off if she were there at that bar seeing him drinking himself stupid. How he wished she would sweep in through the bar''s double doors and do so. Bang. The rifle echoed in his head again, but this time, it wasn¡¯t the salute. It was the sound of her gun¡ªher precision, the way she never missed. Except that time. Except when it had mattered most. On that day, Gideon remembered the calm in her voice as she called out enemy positions, her precision unmatched¡ªuntil she spoke no more. When the firefight had subsided, Gideon had found her lifeless body still in position, her right eye was pierced by a bullet that went through her G25''s scope, her finger hovering over the trigger as if ready to fire one last shot.
Then cameKaz, with his crooked grin and the cocky confidence only a vampire could have. Kaz had always been too reckless, too sure of himself. But when it came down to the wire, there was no one else Gideon would have trusted to storm into a room full of enemies. In their downtime, Gideon and Kaz often sparred in both the ring and kill-house, both eager to get the drop on one another. Of course, this proved to be rather difficult for Gideon as he was dealing with a superhuman, shapeshifting entity which led to frequent visits to the medical wing (and a healthy amount of "sternly worded advise" from Elara and Lira). However, what didn''t kill Gideon made him stronger and he actually managed to keep Kaz on his toes more because of Gideon''s adaptation towards Kaz''s tactics which in turn fostered mutual respect between them.Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! ¡°Der Tod wird dich heute nicht holen, Gideon.¡± Kaz said, flashing those sharp canines as if the thought of death was beneath him. It was a phrase Kaz used often.Death wouldn¡¯t take him today.Maybe not tomorrow either, if Kaz had his way. Sliding a fresh magazine inside his MP5K before running and gunning down multiple opponents thanks to his supernatural speed and reflexes. But Kaz had died. Right there in that forsaken forest, blown apart by a barrage of 40mm grenades. There wasn''t much of him to recover. But did it even matter? What was the point of immortality when betrayal could strike down even the strongest?
Mira¡­God, Mira. She had been the only one to see him for who he really was, the one to understand the man behind the mission. She was the glue that had held them together¡ªnot just with her tech, but with her wit, her sharp mind. Her laugh echoed in his mind, sharp and short, always ready with a sarcastic comment. The youngest on the team, she was savvy in pop culture and often spoke with slangs and references barely understood by the squad''s older members. But not Gideon, being the second youngest on the team, he was also in touch with her lingo and general hobbies. Although, maybe not aschronic. They shared a common love for video games, with the most recent being Helldivers 2. But their true passion lied in open world single player video games such as Skyrim, The Witcher series, and Cyberpunk 2077 because there were many lore to be unearthed, lots of new locations to explore, no intrusion from people in-game, and most importantly, they got to do it in their own paces because of the already limited downtime they had. She had never let him drown in his own thoughts, not until the end. And now here he was, drowning without her, without her voice cutting through the silence. "Wir werden nie dieses neue Update spielen, oder?" he murmured after taking another shot.They''d never get to play in that new update. The last time he saw her, she had been pinned behind cover, her fingers flying over her tablet, trying to contact the extraction team that was never meant to come in the midst of communications jamming. Trying to fix what had already been broken. The last thing she said to himor ratherscreamedat him¡ªhe couldn¡¯t even remember as a missile had obliterated her position. Gideon had been close, too close. He remembered the heat of the explosion, the way it blown him out of his own position. But when he had crawled to where Mira had been, fighting the pain of his broken body, there was nothing but twisted metal and scorched earth. He would never forgive himself for his inability to save her.
He chuckled darkly, despite himself.Thorneck. The giant orc with a heart too big for his own good. People thought orcs were just muscle, just brute force¡ªbut not Thorneck. He had been the one who questioned everything, always pulling Gideon aside before and after a mission, asking if they were really doing the right thing. ¡°Gewalt ist einfach,¡± Thorneck had said once, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. ¡°Aber Gerechtigkeit? Das ist schwerer.¡± Violence was easy, Gideon knew.But righteousness? That was harder¡ªjust like Thorneck had said. Gideon had never really known what to say to that. He had always been the second most philosophical in the squad next to Elara, and when not sparring with Kaz or gaming with Mira or being mentored by Elara, Gideon would be exercising while discussing about all kinds of life aspects with Thorneck. Sometimes just the two of them, sometimes with more members of the squad present. Thorneck had been their heavy hitter, their demolition expert. The one who could tear through a wall, breach bunkers without breaking a sweat, and mow down hostile personnel with his custom MG6. Yet he had been the one to question the mission the most. This was supposed to be their last mission before their early retirement to , maybe he should have taken his advice and just ditched this mission. The memory of Thorneck¡¯s body¡ªmassive and unmoving,the first to fell¡ªwouldn¡¯t leave him. They had called him indestructible, but in the end, he had fallen just like the rest of them. Gideon had watched him go down, a roaring mountain crumbling in the heat of battle - his minigun spat forth unrelenting hails of lead towards enemy position before he was ripped apart by bullets. He fell to his knees, and died protecting them as he always had.
AndLira¡­ the ethereal fae whose touch could heal wounds faster than a bullet could make them. She was more magic than human, her presence like a gentle breeze in the chaos of battle. Always so calm, so serene, no matter the carnage around her. Outside of combat situations, Lira had taught Gideon the art of nurturing life her magic infusing the world around her with vitality. The plants had always thrived under her care, and she had shown him how to coax life from even the most barren soil. How to care for animals both in health and in sickness, how she taught him to tend to countless city animals such as birds with broken wings and strays with broken legs or other ailments. He remembered one particular moment after a mission when they had taken refuge in a cave somewhere in Siberia. A wounded East Siberian brown bear had limped into their camp, barely able to stand. Gideon had reached for his Saiga-12, but Lira had stopped him with a gentle touch. ¡°Sie kommen nicht immer, um uns zu verletzen, Gideon,¡± she had whispered, kneeling next to the bear. ¡°Manchmal brauchen sie nur jemanden, der sie heilt.¡± Within minutes, the fox had been nuzzling her palm, its wounds closing as her magic wove through its body. After she made sure the bear would sleep through their stay, Lira had turned to him with that serene smile. "Du brauchst keine Magie, um ihnen zu helfen. Du brauchst nur Geduld."Gideon remembered her words well.Even the most dangerous creatures do not always mean harm, sometimes they only wanted a little help and that he does not need magic to do so, just patience. Gideon could still feel her magic, like the ghost of a touch, as she had tried to heal him, even as the world was burning down around them. She had struggled to save them all until the very last breath. But even magic had its limits. It wasn¡¯t a bullet or explosion that took Lira¡¯s life. Instead, it was her magic that gave out first. Gideon had watched as she knelt beside him, her hands glowing as she tried to heal a wound that was too severe. Her glow had flickered, then dimmed. Lira had looked up, and for the first time, there was fear in her eyes¡ªa fear offading. Her body didn¡¯t bleed like theirs. Instead, her skin had begun to shimmer, like the last rays of sunlight filtering through mist. Her form became translucent, her edges blurring, until she was barely there at all. And then, in a whisper of wind, she was gone. He had called for her, screamed her name into the smoke and fire after the carnage had subsided. But she was gone. All of them¡ªgone. Andhewas still here. He poured another drink, his hand steady this time. As he lifted the glass, he paused, staring at the reflection of his face in the liquor. It was distorted, warped¡ªunrecognizable. Just like him. He slammed the glass down again. Bang. The rifles rang out again, louder this time. But it wasn¡¯t the funeral¡ªno, this was the sound of gunfire, the sound ofhis team being cut down. The mission gone wrong. His commanding officer had given them orders, led them into the trap.Gideon had trusted him. He had believed in the mission. And now hisWolfsrudel, hisWolfpackwere dead. All of them, except him.
In the silence that followed the last shot, the bar seemed to grow colder, heavier. He reached for the bottle, but his hand paused mid-air. His fingers twitched, hovering over the glass. How many more shots?How many more bangs of the glass before he would finally feel something other than this crushing emptiness? Or maybe it wasn¡¯t emptiness. Maybe it was everything, all at once. The glass stayed on the bar. He couldn¡¯t lift it this time. He just stared at it, the sound of rifle shots still ringing in his ears. Echoes Gideon woke with a start, his body heavy and his mind sluggish, as if the weight of last night¡¯s whiskey was still pulling him down into the sheets. The dull throb behind his eyes matched the slow rhythm of his pulse, his dry and embittered tongue reminders of how much he had drunk, though he couldn¡¯t quite remember he had gotten home. He sat up slowly, the ache in his muscles more than just the usual soreness from his daily routine¡ªit was deeper, older, the kind of pain that came from something broken inside. The apartment was eerily silent, save for the low hum of modern appliances in the kitchen and the faint crackle of a warded window keeping the enchanted chill of the forest at bay. Wolfpack had picked this place for its serenity, for the promise of peace that Eichenwald, nestled deep in the Black Forest, had offered them. But now, in the stillness of the morning, it felt hollow. Every room seemed too big, too empty, too full of things that weren¡¯t supposed to be his alone. He stood and ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough stubble on his jaw, the exhaustion clinging to his skin like a second layer. The mirror in the bathroom caught his eye¡ªhe hardly recognized the man staring back at him. His dark brown hair was disheveled, and his pale green eyes, bloodshot and shadowed, seemed haunted by too many sleepless nights. There was a time when he would¡¯ve cared enough to shave, enough to look less like a ghost, but that time had long passed. Truth be told it has only been a month since Wolfpack had been buried and Gideon himself discharged from the Bundeswehr. His commanding officer, Oberst Matthias Volkner , had fled to God knows where after the failed attempt to wipe out Wolfpack, an unsanctioned mission in the border of Belarus that had cost him everything. Gideon should have been hunting The Colonel down, should have been planning revenge, but the grief weighed him down like a stone tied to his chest. He had managed to recover their bodies. Even after the Bundeswehr had disavowed the mission, his connections within the KSK had allowed him to pull strings, to retrieve what was left of his team. He¡¯d given them proper burials here in Eichenwald, the place they had all planned to call home after their final mission. But the graves, neatly lined in the town''s cemetery, were no comfort to him. They only reminded him of the promise they had all made to each other¡ªone they would never fulfill. Every day, he was trapped in the same routine, the same hollow actions, going through the motions of a life he no longer recognized. The enchanted herb planter by the window flickered with faint green light, the runes Lira had etched into it still glowing softly even though the plants inside were wilting. He hadn¡¯t watered them in days¡ªmaybe weeks¡ªbut somehow, the magic held on, just as he did, by a thread. It was meant to be her gift to them, something to nurture, something that would bring a bit of the wild magic she loved into their lives. Now it was just another reminder of what was gone. He stared at them for a moment, barely able to bring himself to water them. Lira had shown him how to take care of them, how to let the magic nurture the plants, but without her, the act felt empty. He absentmindedly filled the bird-feeder outside of the window with assorted seeds for the local Eurasian blue tits to eat. Right on cue, a pair of them darted to the bird feeder, their vivid blue and yellow feathers catching the morning light as they perched gracefully, pecking at the seeds Gideon had scattered. It reminded him of Lira¡ªsmall yet full of life, flitting between moments with a quiet grace. She had always loved these birds, their cheerful chirps a reflection of the harmony she brought to the world around her. Watching it now, he could almost feel her presence, the soft hum of her magic still lingering in the air, as though she was still tending to the life she had left behind. Leaving the window behind, he wandered into the kitchen. Its sleek, modern stainless steel appliances looked out of place in this old town, where everything else still held onto a sense of timelessness. They had wanted the best of both worlds¡ªtechnology and magic, the comforts of modern life with the old world charm of Eichenwald¡ªbut now, it felt like he was caught between two lives, neither of them his anymore. The coffee maker whirred softly as he leaned against the counter, his eyes drifting toward the small pile of things on the table¡ªhis battered dog tags, still glinting in the morning light, and an old map of the town that they had once used to plan out the perfect life here. The tags were cold in his hand, a weight that reminded him of the past he couldn¡¯t escape, the lives he couldn¡¯t save. Gideon pulled open the black double-door fridge out of habit more than hunger. It was mostly empty, a box of milk and a carton of eggs, the bare minimum he could manage in his mental state. He should eat, but food hadn¡¯t tasted the same since the mission. Still, he went through the motions, pulling out a few ingredients to make bread the way Elara had taught him. He remembered her quiet laugh as she had patiently shown him how to knead the dough, her long fingers moving gracefully while his had fumbled through the steps. Now, as he tried again, the dough didn¡¯t rise properly, and the bread came out dense and misshapen compared to the airy yet firm texture when Elara had made it. He could almost hear Elara¡¯s voice in his head, her soft laugh teasing him for his impatience. He set the failed loaf on the counter, staring at it as though it could somehow bring her back. Gideon moved through the rest of his routine with the same sense of detachment. The hand-to-hand drills he did with Kaz felt mechanical, each punch or kick thrown into the empty air or against the worn punching bag, were shadows of what they used to be. He had enjoyed martial arts since his childhood, particularly Taekwondo, Judo, and Kyokushin Karate but nothing was ever as exhilarating after everything he went through with Kaz . The vampire''s superhuman battle prowess constantly offered immense challenge for him to train harder so he could hit and be hit harder . But no extra training or conditioning from Kaz could have prepared him for blows this painful. There was no banter, no Kaz there to push him, to call out his mistakes with that ever-present smirk. His body went through the motions, but his mind was elsewhere, lost in the memories of that final mission, of the day they had all died. In the small gym, he lifted weights, following the routines that Thorneck had set for him, but each rep felt heavier than it should have. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was the weight of the iron or the weight of the guilt that slowed him down. Thorneck had always been there to spot him, to push him through the hardest sets, all while discussing morality and ethics with him. But now the silence in the room was deafening. After the last rep, he dropped the bar, his breath coming in shallow gasps, but it didn¡¯t feel like an accomplishment. Nothing did without them. Even gaming felt pointless now. Mira had always been the one to pull him into her world, dragging him into endless matches of Helldivers 2, laughing hysterically when Eagle airstrikes or 500 kilogram bombs obliterated bugs and clankers (and often times also their entire squad) alike, delving into the long forgotten dungeons of Skyrim and finding a master-level treasure chest with an intact bread in it with 3 gold coins after wasting so many lockpicks on it, collecting Gwent cards across The Continent, or simply driving through the streets of Night City and pretending that they are Ryan Gosling''s K from Blade Runner 2049. He hadn¡¯t touched their PCs since her death. What was the point? There was no one there to share the victories, no Mira to switch players to every 30 minutes when playing the single players. They were just another reminder that she was gone.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. Gideon wandered to a nearby window and saw Eichenwald¡¯s enchanted trees swaying gently in the breeze, their leaves glimmering with a faint blue hue in the early morning light. The town itself was still, peaceful, the kind of place where people¡ªboth men and Kithborn¡ªcould find refuge from the outside world. He found some comfort in the idea that, here, it didn¡¯t matter if you were human or otherwise. The lines between species blurred in the quiet streets, where differences were simply another part of the fabric of life. It had been their dream to live here, to escape the violence and the chaos that had defined so much of their lives. But now, as he stared out at the town, all he could feel was the emptiness. The silence that had once promised peace now mocked him. The coffee was cold by the time he returned to the window, staring out at the forest beyond the town. This apartment, this town¡ªthey were supposed to be his escape, their escape, a place where they could live out their days in peace. But now, it was just another prison, a reminder of everything he had lost. Eichenwald¡¯s charm, its blend of magic and modernity, couldn¡¯t fill the void that had settled in his chest. He was alone in a place meant for all of them, surrounded by memories that refused to fade, by dreams that had died along with his team. No baking, no amount of drills, no workout routine, no game, no enchanted plants nor birds could bring them back. And so, he remained, stuck between the life they had envisioned and the reality of what had become of it.
The weight of the day pressed heavily on Gideon as dusk settled over Eichenwald, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. He hadn¡¯t planned on leaving the apartment, but something about the stillness had become suffocating. His mind felt like it was trapped in an endless loop¡ªmemories of his team, the last mission, their empty graves. The silence inside his apartment was too much, so without thinking, he pulled on his green bomber jacket, laced his brown hiking boots, and stepped outside. The air was cool, refreshing in a way that made him pause for a moment on the doorstep. He glanced down the quiet street, the enchanted streetlights flickering to life, their warm glow mixing with the last remnants of sunlight that painted the sky in deep shades of purple and gold. He hadn¡¯t been out like this in days¡ªnot for anything other than necessity¡ªbut tonight, the routine felt hollow, and the stillness gnawed at him. As he made his way down the street, his footsteps echoed in the quiet evening, blending with the faint hum of magic and electricity that powered the town. He passed by the bar where he had spent most of last night, the memory hazy but still fresh enough to make him stop. He pushed the door open, the faint smell of wood smoke and spilled beer hitting him as he entered. The bartender gave him a nod¡ªan older man with graying hair, by the name of Kurt Braumeister, familiar enough to remember Gideon¡¯s face but never close enough to ask questions. ¡° Dachte schon, Sie w¨¹rden zur¨¹ckkommen, ¡± Kurt said, wiping down the counter. He had expected Gideon¡¯s return, given how abruptly he had left last night. " Sie sind gestern Abend schnell gegangen. Haben nicht einmal Ihre Rechnung ¨¹berpr¨¹ft. " It was true¡ªGideon hadn¡¯t even checked his tab, leaving in such a rush. Gideon nodded and slid a few bills across the counter, enough to cover the whiskey he had drowned himself in the night before. " Danke, " he said quietly, his baritone voice rough. It had been a long time since he¡¯d thanked anyone for anything. Kurt raised an eyebrow but didn¡¯t push the conversation any further. He took the money, gave Gideon another nod, and moved on to the next customer. There was something comforting about the routine¡ªabout the way the world kept turning, even if his own life felt stuck. With a quick glance around, he left the bar and continued down the street. The houses along the way glowed warmly from within, their windows lit with soft, golden light. In one of the gardens, he spotted his neighbor, Mrs. Schneider, a half-Dryad woman who lived alone in a house covered with ivy. She waved as she saw him pass, her hand trembling slightly with age, but her smile was kind, familiar. ¡° Sie haben sich zur¨¹ckgezogen, Herr Roth ,¡± she called out, her voice gentle but with a touch of concern. She hadn¡¯t seen much of him lately¡ªhis quiet absence had become notable. " Sie sollten mal wieder zum Tee vorbeikommen. Ich habe die Kr?utermischung gemacht, die Sie fr¨¹her gemocht haben. " She had even prepared that herbal blend he used to enjoy, back when he would stop by now and then for tea. Victor Roth¡ªa name he had crafted months ago, when he and Wolfpack had planned to leave their old lives behind. They got themselves new IDs, passports, and other appropriate documents for their retirement so nothing could be traced back to who they really were. It felt strange hearing it aloud. Gideon offered her a small, tight-lipped smile. " Ich werde versuchen, vorbeizuschauen, " he responded. He said he¡¯d try to stop by, though they both knew it was unlikely. But still, her kindness touched him, tugging at something deep inside that had been dormant for weeks. Mrs. Schneider nodded, satisfied enough with the answer, and returned to tending her plants, humming softly as she went. As he continued walking, the town began to feel more alive than it had in weeks. The enchanted trees at the edge of town swayed gently in the breeze, their glowing leaves shifting between hues of blue and green as the light faded. He paused at the treeline, the familiar hum of their magic vibrating in the air. It was something that had always calmed him, the connection between nature and the arcane. It reminded him of Lira¡¯s magic¡ªgentle, but powerful in its subtlety. From somewhere deep in the woods, he heard the distant cry of a bird¡ªa sound that had become so familiar to him during his time in Eichenwald. The pair of Eurasian blue tits from earlier flitted from tree to tree, its vibrant blue feathers catching the last glimmers of light. He watched as they landed on a nearby tree and settled in their nest. It was a small thing, insignificant in the grand scheme of his life, but for a moment, it was enough to distract him from the heaviness in his chest. The streets were nearly empty now, the shops closing, families settling into their homes for the night. Gideon took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. For the first time in days, the suffocating weight seemed to began lifting off, even if just a little. He found himself standing at the edge of the forest, staring into the shadows cast by the enchanted trees. The world felt quieter here, as if the town was holding its breath. The silence wasn¡¯t as oppressive as before¡ªit was a bit different now. A bit calmer. Like the night was offering him a brief reprieve from the chaos that had consumed him. But even in the quiet, the memories of Wolfpack still lingered. He could almost hear their voices, the laughter they used to share, the plans they had made for this place. This town was supposed to be their sanctuary, but now it was just his. And it felt empty without them. Gideon lingered at the tree line a little longer, his eyes tracing the outline of the enchanted trees as they swayed in the breeze. The magic in the air was faint but familiar, a reminder that this place was still alive, still moving forward even if he wasn¡¯t. As night fully settled in, he turned back toward the apartment, his footsteps slow, but for the first time in weeks, they didn¡¯t feel too heavy. Unspoken Words The shrill sound of the doorbell jarred Gideon from sleep. Groggy, he glanced at the clock¡ªtoo early for visitors. His body moved before his mind could fully catch up, pulling on a black t-shirt and slipping into his jeans, neither too tight or loose. The doorbell rang again, sharper this time, and an unsettling sense of caution crept in. Instinct kicked in. He took to his nightstand, opening the drawer and unsheathing a KM2000 combat knife with practiced ease. The blade felt solid in his grip, a reminder of the life he once led¡ªalways ready, just in case. With the black tinted knife in hand, he approached the door, using his left arm to tuck the blade behind his back. His right hand hovered over the handle. Slowly, carefully, he cracked the door open just enough to see the person outside, keeping most of his body concealed behind it. Only a sliver of himself was visible, enough to maintain control while the heavy oak served as a barrier¡ªand a shield, if needed. The door creaked open, just enough for Gideon to assess the situation. His eyes flickered over the figure standing outside¡ªa courier. But not just any courier. Feathers. Wings. And far too young. A harpy. She was dressed in a standard courier¡¯s uniform¡ªa navy blue jacket fitted awkwardly over her slender frame, with slits cut in the back to accommodate her wings. The jacket was a tad too big, the sleeves bunching at her wrists, and the matching cap barely sat on her head, perched awkwardly between the tufts of white feathers atop her crown. She shifted nervously from foot to foot, her talons scraping lightly against the doorstep. Her large, golden eyes widened, scanning him with the nervous energy of someone new on the job. She looked barely old enough to have her wings fully grown, let alone be doing courier work. Her feathers, a mix of dusty brown and white, fluttered slightly as she fiddled with a small satchel slung over her shoulder. " ?h, Paket f¨¹r¡­ Victor Roth ?" she chirped, her voice uncertain. The words came out hesitant, as if she wasn¡¯t entirely sure about her German, though she read the name from the label carefully. Gideon relaxed, exhaling a breath he hadn¡¯t realized he¡¯d been holding. Just like yesterday, it was still strange to hear his pseudonym being said out loud. " Ja, das bin ich, " he replied in a low, rasping tone, confirming his identity. He eased the door open a bit further, though still kept most of his body concealed. The young harpy extended the package toward him with both hands, her wings shifting nervously over the jacket. Her gaze darted to his face, then back down to the package as if she were trying to be professional but wasn¡¯t entirely sure how. " Danke, " Gideon muttered, thanking her. He took the package with his right hand, feeling its weight. He was about to shut the door when she spoke again, her voice wavering slightly. " ?h¡­ Sie m¨¹ssen noch unterschreiben. " The courier blurted. Her feathers fluffed up awkwardly, and she pulled a small clipboard from her bag, offering it to him with a shy smile. The uniform cap shifted on her head, threatening to fall off with every nervous twitch of her wings. Gideon couldn¡¯t help but smile subtly at the sight. He carefully placed the knife in his left back pocket so as to not stab himself and finally revealed himself in full view to grab the offered item. He could see the harpy shrinking back as he loomed several heads taller than her. Noticing this, he quickly signed the receipt and bowed slightly as he returned the clipboard to her with both hands. From the looks of things, to harpy standards at least, she couldn''t have been older than 18 years old. Little did the young harpy know, Gideon had cleverly attached fifty euros alongside the clipboard as a tip - a sleight of hand he picked up from Kaz. The young harpy nodded, her wings giving a small, relieved flutter. She didn''t seem to notice what Gideon had done. " Danke! Sch?nen Tag noch! " The harpy thanked him, wishing Gideon a good day as she blurted out in a rush, clearly eager to finish her task as she tucked the clipboard back into her bag. Gideon watched her fly down the hallway, before glancing down at the package. He shook his head and closed the door, the weight of the knife resting on his back pocket¡ªa needless precaution this time, but old habits die hard. The package felt unremarkable in Gideon¡¯s hands. Wrapped in simple brown paper, it bore no marks of distinction, no hints that it held something of value. Just a common delivery. His forged name, Victor Roth , was scrawled neatly on the courier label, accompanied by a small "Fragile" stamp in the corner. Gideon frowned as he set it on the dining table, carefully using his knife to cut through the cover. Inside, the first layer revealed a standard cardboard box, unassuming and ordinary. Yet, as he lifted the lid, he noticed the padding inside¡ªthick foam that cradled something far more significant. He glanced over the packaging, his instincts tingling. No ordinary item would require this level of care. His fingers traced the foam as he pulled it away, revealing a small chest nestled within. Crafted from dark, polished wood, it gleamed under the morning light. Intricate carvings lined the edges¡ªdelicate patterns that at first glance seemed decorative but, upon closer inspection, bore the unmistakable mark of runic protection. They glowed a subtle blue against the dark wood, almost imperceptibly, as if the magic imbued within was waiting for him to unlock it. Gideon ran a thumb over the surface of the small chest - it was approximately around the size of a smartphone box yet power thrummed beneath his touch. Whoever had sent this wasn¡¯t taking any chances. The locking mechanism was complex, a series of interwoven sigils that shifted ever so slightly under his gaze. There wasn''t any visible locking mechanism, in fact the container seemed to be one solid piece of wood. But then, it clicked open. Inside, was a peculiar device resting on a bed of black velvet. It looked similar to a smartphone, but at the same time, it wasn''t. Gideon carefully picked it up, and remarked that this device wasn''t larger than an ordinary smartphone. Felt like one too. Especially with four optics built into its corners. Well, if a smartphone was made from matte titanium covered with ballistic nylon then sure. He flipped it, and saw a MOLLE-compatible panel on the device¡¯s backside. Whatever this device was, it was built with incredible sturdiness and even more refined craftsmanship. Clearly it was meant to be in military applications or at least extreme outdoor activities. He thought this was someone else''s package he had gotten by mistake, a brand new smartphone for an actual Victor Roth that lived in the same apartment. He took another look at the label and the apartment number was the exact same as the one he was in. Another damning evidence that this package was meant for him, was the emblem on the device''s face - a lone wolf etched with intricate detail, surrounded by blue glowing arcane runes. This emblem was, of course, Gideon''s Steam account profile picture. Other than him, someone most familiar with it would be Mira. As his thumb delicately grazed over them, they pulsed and beat as if responding to his touch like a living thing. The sight of it stirred something deep inside his chest, something that threatened to spill from his eyes. " Es kann nicht sein. " he mumbled, his voice trembled. It can''t be. Placing the device carefully on the table, Gideon noticed a thin, seemingly ordinary sheet of paper that must have been placed underneath the device. At first glance, it appeared unremarkable¡ªjust a simple, glossy sheet like the ones that usually accompany electronics. The material felt smooth and light in his hand, the kind of paper that was easy to overlook, designed to blend in and avoid attention. By all intents and purposes, the paper was completely blank. But as he looked closer, he noticed something odd. At the bottom corner, barely visible against the reflective surface, a single rune was etched in faint, shimmering ink. It was almost imperceptible until the light hit it just right, causing the rune to glow ever so faintly. Instinctively, Gideon''s gaze locked onto the rune, its intricate lines seeming to pulse, as if drawing him in. The moment his eyes focused on it, the rune flared to life, flooding his vision with blinding light. His surroundings blurred into nothing, replaced by a sudden torrent of information that rushed into his mind with relentless force¡ªdetails about the Hexlink, its functions as both an arcane journal and communications device. He saw diagrams of its construction, felt the mechanisms of its magic, and understood, on an intimate level, the delicate interplay of enchantments woven into its core. It was as if the manual had bypassed his senses entirely and carved itself directly into his thoughts. A flash of searing pain ripped through his skull, an agony so intense it felt like his mind was being burned from the inside out. He let out a strangled grunt, his body collapsing to the ground as he clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp in a desperate attempt to ground himself. The onslaught of knowledge was unbearable¡ªeach piece of information tearing at his consciousness, a chaotic symphony of magical blueprints and commands. The pain grew until it was all-consuming, the edges of his vision darkening, his awareness narrowing to a single point of white-hot fire. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the pain receded, leaving him hollowed out, the world around him slowly reforming as the blinding light dimmed. Gideon lay there, breathless, his chest heaving as the last remnants of the vision flickered away. He forced his eyes open, blinking against the dizziness that clouded his mind. Slowly, shakily, he pushed himself up, one hand reaching for the edge of the table, his knuckles white as he gripped it for support. He felt as if he¡¯d been struck by lightning, his nerves tingling with residual energy. His mind buzzed with newfound understanding, every detail about the Hexlink now etched into his memory, but at the cost of almost blacking out completely. With a groggy shake of his head, he steadied himself, drawing in deep, ragged breaths, his vision slowly clearing as the overwhelming torrent began to settle. He staggered to the living room¡¯s sofa, and collapsed into unconsciousness.
Gideon awoke to the dim light of the late afternoon filtering through the windows, the sun low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. His head throbbed dully, the aftermath of the earlier searing pain still echoing in his skull. It was as if someone had split his mind open and poured molten magic into the gaps, leaving him raw and exhausted. He groaned, his eyes squinting against the light as he sat up slowly, every movement reminding him of the ordeal he endured. He went to the kitchen and greedily chugged on a pitcher of water, emptying almost all its content in seconds. For a moment, he just sat on the dinner table, breathing through the throbbing ache that pulsed in his temples, his vision still a little hazy around the edges. The dizziness had settled into a dull haze, but the urge to understand the Hexlink burned through it. He couldn''t just let it go, not after what had happened. There was something about it that drew him back, as if it held secrets he hadn¡¯t yet unlocked¡ªsecrets that were worth the pain, the risk. His gaze shifted back to where the Hexlink lay, its cover closed, the lone wolf emblem glinting faintly in the fading light. It seemed innocent now, almost ordinary, but he knew better. There was power in it¡ªreal, raw power that he needed to understand. With a grunt, he picked it up, his hands trembling slightly from both fatigue and anticipation. He turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of the titanium-reinforced edges and the rough texture of the ballistic nylon cover. The arcane runes flickered to life as he touched them, a faint glow that pulsed as if acknowledging his presence.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. He noticed a thin slit - one that he did not even notice before - and slowly pried open the device, his breath catching as iridescent blue pages materialized, shimmering before his pale green eyes. He hesitated for just a moment before he let his gaze drift across the pages, with the Hexlink seemingly responding to his thoughts or rather instincts at this point. Gideon activated the adaptive map feature, where the Hexlink displayed Eichenwald in perfect clarity, the buildings, enchanted trees, the streets, and even the subtle ley lines beneath the town glowing softly on the page. The information from earlier¡ªthe blueprints, the capabilities¡ªresurfaced in his mind, clear and precise. It was as though the Hexlink had woven itself into him, embedding all of its knowledge deep within. He swallowed the lingering ache in his head barely registering as his fingers moved over the shimmering pages. There were still so many layers to it, so many things he understood yet at the same time needed to be understood. It was then when the Hexlink popped a three dimensional holographic notification, letting him know that there was a pre-recorded message already saved within. Tapping the alert, The Hexlink pulsed softly in Gideon''s hand, its optics flaring to life, projecting beams of blue light into the air above it. The room was dim, late afternoon light casting long shadows, but the holographic glow illuminated the space as if filling it with the presence of those he had lost. As the light solidified, Mira stood before him, her grin as wide and teasing as ever. "Gid, du alter Bastard," she teased, reminding him that today was special, a little grin playing on her lips. They¡¯d managed to get him something despite his usual protests, and she made it clear with a laugh that he was out of luck¡ª"Alles Gute zum 30. Geburtstag!" They had gone through the trouble of pooling their money together for this, and she wasn¡¯t going to let him brush it off like it didn¡¯t matter. The scene shifted, revealing Kaz, leaning casually against a projected tree, his usual smirk softening just a little. "Jedes Jahr dieselbe Leier, Vogt," he said, shaking his head at their familiar ritual. Gideon always acted like it was just another day, but they all knew the truth¡ª"Du tust so, als w?re es nur ein weiterer Tag, aber wir wissen alle, dass du dich insgeheim darauf freust." Even if he tried to hide it, Kaz knew Gideon secretly looked forward to their little traditions. Kaz gestured toward the Hexlink, emphasizing that it wasn¡¯t just some gadget¡ª"Dieses Ding hier ist nicht nur ein Spielzeug. Es ist unser Geschenk an dich. Also pass gut darauf auf, okay?" It was something special, something they had chosen for him together. Kaz¡¯s words carried a note of seriousness, urging Gideon to take care of it, as if he was trying to impress upon him the value of their gift. The projection shimmered again, and Thorneck¡¯s voice filled the room with a steady warmth. "Gideon, wir wollten sicherstellen, dass du immer eine Erinnerung an uns hast, egal was passiert," he said, making it clear that this gift was meant to be a reminder of them, even during the harder times. He knew that Gideon wasn¡¯t one for sentiment, but this was their way of keeping the connection alive¡ª"Wir wissen, dass das Leben nicht immer leicht ist, aber dieses Journal soll dich daran erinnern, dass du nie wirklich alleine bist." It was their hope that the journal would remind Gideon he wasn¡¯t truly alone, even when life got tough. Then came Lira, her presence gentle and kind, her voice a soothing melody in the otherwise quiet space. "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Gideon," she said softly, offering her warmest wishes. She leaned in a bit closer, sharing a little secret¡ª"Ich hoffe, du findest Frieden, wenn du das Hexlink benutzt. Es steckt viel von uns allen darin, aber auch ein Teil von mir. Ich habe daf¨¹r gesorgt, dass es sich immer wie ein Zuhause anf¨¹hlt, egal wo du bist." She hoped he¡¯d find a sense of comfort in using the Hexlink, knowing that a part of them¡ªand a special part of her¡ªwas woven into its very essence. No matter where he found himself, she had tried to ensure that it would feel like home. A playful smile touched her lips as she reminded him of his routines¡ª"Vergiss nicht, die V?gel zu f¨¹ttern, Gideon. Und pflege die Pflanzen¡ªsie brauchen dich, genauso wie du uns brauchst." It was a gentle nudge to keep up with the little things, like feeding the birds and care for the plants, the small acts of care that had always kept them grounded. By this point, tears had already begun to spill down Gideon¡¯s cheeks, his breath hitching as he listened to their voices, their warmth cutting through the loneliness. Lastly, Elara¡¯s figure emerged, her presence serene, her smile offering a quiet reassurance. "Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Gideon," she whispered, the words carrying a weight that settled deep in his chest. Her gaze softened as she explained the true nature of the gift¡ª"Dieses Journal ist mehr als nur ein Geschenk. Es ist ein Teil von uns. Solange du es hast, sind wir bei dir." It wasn¡¯t merely a birthday present; it was a part of them, a promise that as long as he kept the Hexlink close, they would be with him in spirit. She added one last note, as if sharing an afterthought¡ª"Und ¨¹brigens¡ªdu solltest Sylvia Ashborne kontaktieren. Sie war es, die dieses Hexlink f¨¹r dich gemacht hat. Du schuldest ihr ein Dankesch?n." She suggested he reach out to Sylvia Ashborne, the one who had put so much care into crafting the Hexlink, hinting that he owed her a word of thanks. As the figures faded, their words lingered, mingling with the quiet of the room. Gideon clutched the Hexlink to his chest, the engraved lone wolf emblem pressing into his skin, as the weight of their messages finally broke through his defenses. He sank to his knees by the dining table, sobs wracking his body as the reality of their absence and their enduring care crashed over him. And in the midst of his grief, he found a small, flickering sense of hope¡ªone they had left behind, even when he hadn¡¯t known how badly he needed it.
Before he knew it, hours had gone by, and it was midnight. Gideon¡¯s sobbing had stopped, his tears ran dry as he sat hunched on the dinner table over the Hexlink, being rather lightheaded and not entirely there. Gideon¡¯s hands trembled slightly as he cradled the device. It glowed faintly, the engraved emblem catching the waning light in the room. The manual¡¯s imprint in his mind left him feeling a strange duality¡ªlike he knew exactly what each rune and symbol did, yet the device still felt foreign in his hands, an artifact from another world. Gideon wondered, who this Sylvia Ashborne individual was? From Elara¡¯s message, they seemed to know each other at least professionally. Elara walked the Earth hundreds of years before he was even a concept, perhaps this person was Elara¡¯s intricate time-spanning network of associates. Reviewing his knowledge, at least what little he knew, outside of Zeelandia, a Hexlink is an utmost rarity, only held by those most attuned to magic - and/or possessing an exorbitant amount of wealth to afford one. To add to the matter, a Hexlink craftsman, would be at least a mage of the utmost prestige in both technical knowledge and arcane prowess - not somebody one can meet willy-nilly. In Germany alone, mages were heavily regulated under the federal government and none to his knowledge would even come close to the level of skill possessed by the makers of such technology. Blending both science and magic into a handheld device. But then again, as Arthur C. Clarke once said, any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. Truthfully, Gideon was rather hesitant to follow through with Elara¡¯s message right then since he felt unready to hold extended conversations with this individual. But, he shan¡¯t sully her last wish with his own grief. His decision was made. He shifted through the options, each movement precise despite the hesitation lingering in his chest. He found Sylvia¡¯s name - thankfully written in Latin alphabet - the arcane script rippling across the surface as he focused on it, letting the magic flow through his mind and into the device. Instead of a typical screen, the Hexlink¡¯s runes projected a shimmering, three-dimensional interface above its surface¡ªlike a floating panel made of softly glowing blue light. The magical energy hummed as it connected, and after a moment, the optics flared out once again to reveal Sylvia¡¯s image. The projection coalesced into a life-sized, translucent figure hovering above the Hexlink, rendering her in intricate detail¡ªevery strand of her long, wavy, auburn hair catching the ambient light, her eyes a rich, dark teal that gleamed with curiosity. Her expression softened into a wide smile when she saw him, her features framed by the soft, diffused glow of the runes around her. ¡°Who¡¯s this, then?¡± Sylvia¡¯s voice carried across the space between them, clear and warm, her New Zealand accent giving her words a gentle, rhythmic cadence. Her image wavered slightly in the projection, as if she were standing amidst an unseen breeze. Gideon¡¯s breath hitched at the sight of her, the familiarity catching him off guard even as the magical projection made it feel surreal. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice, but also coughing as he found his throat to be parched. ¡° Ja ... it¡¯s me, Gideon Vogt.¡± he managed, his words tinged with a German lilt, each syllable clipped and precise. He felt the weight of the connection, the unspoken history between them that now stretched across the arcane frequencies. Sylvia¡¯s face lit up with recognition, her smile growing even warmer as she clasped her hands together. ¡°Well, look at that¡ªGideon Vogt, finally using that Hexlink of yours,¡± she teased, her tone gentle yet tinged with amusement. ¡°I was startin¡¯ to think you¡¯d never figure it out. Took you long enough, mate.¡± He forced a small, awkward smile, his fingers twitching against the Hexlink¡¯s smooth surface. ¡° Ja , well... I had a bit of help. Your manual really did the job for me.¡± he said, gesturing vaguely to his head where the runic knowledge still buzzed faintly, like a half-remembered dream. Sylvia¡¯s eyes softened, and she chuckled, a sound that seemed to echo around the room despite the distance between them. ¡°I hope the effects aren¡¯t too much on you, Zeelandian magic tends to affect outsiders more...substantially. How do you like it, then? The Hexlink. Think we did alright, eh? Elara practically drove me mad with it¡ª ¡®Sylvia, it has to be practically indestructible,¡¯ and ¡®Sylvia, make sure it¡¯s sleek, but it can¡¯t draw too much attention!¡¯ ¡± Sylvia chuckled softly, the exasperation in her voice softened by clear affection. ¡°She wasn¡¯t going to settle for anything less than perfect.¡± Gideon can¡¯t help but to chuckle endearingly, that does sound a lot like Elara. He glanced down at the device in his hands, the runes casting faint patterns over his palms. He could feel the weight of his team¡¯s presence in every etched line, every softly glowing symbol. ¡°It¡¯s... more than I deserved,¡± he admitted quietly, his voice taking on a rougher edge. ¡°You all put so much into this. I... appreciate it. Really.¡± Sylvia¡¯s expression shifted slightly, becoming more thoughtful. The light of the runes around her seemed to flicker as if sensing her change in mood. ¡°I¡¯m glad you feel that way, Gideon. Elara wanted it to be something special, something you could carry with you¡ªno matter where you ended up.¡± She paused, a gentle curiosity slipping into her tone. ¡°Speaking of which, how is she? Elara? Still fussing over every little detail, I bet?¡± The question struck him like a physical blow, and for a moment, Gideon couldn¡¯t find the words. His hands balled into fists as he struggled to maintain his composure. He saw Sylvia¡¯s smile falter, her expression growing puzzled at his silence. ¡°She¡¯s... gone, Sylvia,¡± he finally choked out, his voice cracking on the words. ¡°We lost her. On our last mission.¡± His eyes stung, and he blinked hard, refusing to let the tears fall as he faced the projection, her image wavering slightly as if reacting to his pain. Sylvia¡¯s breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked as if the very ground beneath her had vanished. Her face blanched, the usual warmth in her expression replaced by a sharp, raw hurt. ¡°Gone...?¡± The word came out barely more than a breath, as if she couldn¡¯t quite bring herself to accept it. She shook her head slowly, her features twisting with disbelief. ¡°But... how? What happened, Gideon?¡± He forced himself to speak, the words tumbling out in a jagged rush. ¡°Counter sniper. We thought... We thought we had the area covered, but they got her. Right through the scope and into her head.¡± His voice broke, and he pressed his free hand against his mouth, trying to hold back the wave of grief that surged yet again. ¡°She didn¡¯t even... she didn¡¯t even have a chance.¡± Sylvia¡¯s face crumpled, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, as if trying to physically hold back her reaction. Tears welled in her eyes, and for a moment, the glow of the runes around her projection dimmed, flickering like a dying flame. When she spoke again, her voice was thick with emotion. ¡°Gideon... I¡ªI''m so, so sorry.¡± She paused, visibly struggling to regain her composure, but there was a new urgency in her eyes. ¡°I need to see her grave. I need to pay my respects, in person. She deserves that much.¡± Gideon shook his head, his breath hitching as he tried to regain some semblance of control. ¡°Sylvia, you don¡¯t have to¡ª¡± But she cut him off, her tone firm, unwavering despite the tremor in her voice. ¡°No, I really do, Gideon. Elara... she wasn¡¯t just a friend¡ªshe was like family to me.¡± Sylvia¡¯s voice wavered slightly, but the determination behind it remained unyielding. ¡°I need to see her grave, to pay my respects in person. I can¡¯t just sit here, knowing what you¡¯re going through, and do nothing.¡± She paused, ¡°Besides, if Elara adored you enough to gift you a Hexlink, that tells me everything I need to know about what you meant to her. And what she hoped you¡¯d mean to me too.¡± Her voice softened as she added, almost as an afterthought, ¡°She always had a way of seeing the good in people.¡± The projection began to waver, the arcane runes around her shifting and realigning as she prepared to cast her teleportation spell. Her last words came through the haze of magic, softer now, but filled with a fierce tenderness that made Gideon¡¯s chest ache. ¡°Hang in there, Gideon. I¡¯m on my way.¡± And then, with a final flare of light, her image dissolved, leaving Gideon alone in the dim, quiet room. The Hexlink deactivating as the communication ended. The weight of what had just happened settled over him, but this time, it wasn¡¯t quite so crushing. He stared down at the Hexlink in his hands, feeling a small spark of warmth amidst the cold ache of grief. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he might just be able to take a step forward¡ªone small step, toward whatever came next.