Chapter 25: A Traitor Among Us?

The next morning, the rebel camp buzzed with a palpable energy. Colonel Janis Voren had called a strategic meeting, gathering the mercenaries and the key resistance leaders in a large command tent. Holographic maps of the region hovered over the meeting table, projecting detailed images of rugged terrain and enemy positions. The Colonel’s face, etched with years of battle, was set in an expression of fierce determination.

“Our next target is one of Lord Kryon’s main weapon depots,” announced Voren, his voice strong and clear. “Destroying this depot will weaken his forces and give us a decisive advantage.” Murmurs spread through the rebel leaders, some nodding in agreement while others seemed to be already calculating the risks.

The mercenaries, with Vykhor at the forefront, listened silently, weighing the options. Kharok, who had seemed so motivated the day before, spoke up in a tired and distracted voice. “We could take the western trail, skirt around the outposts, and strike fast,” he suggested, pointing to a path on the map. But Evelyn, who was following the meeting with an almost obsessive focus, frowned. That western trail looked convenient, but it was an obvious trap, leading into choke points perfect for Kryon’s troops to ambush them.

Kharok went on to suggest another risky plan, one that involved splitting the rebel forces, which would significantly reduce their effectiveness. A wave of unease washed over Evelyn. Something wasn’t right. Kharok was a seasoned veteran, and he’d never suggest such reckless strategies if he were truly committed. His ideas lacked the precision and logic she’d expect from him.

Discreetly, she turned to Vykhor, who observed the scene with his usual impassive expression. “Vykhor, I think something’s wrong,” she whispered in their private channel, speaking in Kael’tarien, a language few around them understood. “Kharok isn’t acting like himself. His suggestions would expose us to unnecessary risks. I’m afraid he either has another agenda… or he’s lost his resolve.”

Vykhor, who had come to trust Evelyn’s sharp instincts, tilted his head slightly toward her, his yellow eyes gleaming with calculation. He listened carefully, already forming hypotheses and backup plans. He gave a barely perceptible nod, signaling that he was taking her concerns seriously but chose not to make a scene just yet.

“Keep watching him,” he replied in Kael’tarien, his voice steady through their private channel. “If he’s playing a double game, we’ll find out. But I need proof before we make a move.”

Evelyn straightened, her mind on high alert. The meeting continued, but a shiver of apprehension ran through her. Whatever Kharok’s true role was, she knew every second counted and that the slightest misstep could be fatal. After a flurry of final preparations, the plan was set into motion, and the team moved out.

The weapons depot, nestled within an ancient stone fortress, was heavily fortified with barricades and watchtowers. The rebels, driven by fierce determination, advanced in formation, their faces tense but resolute. Under the cover of darkness, the first wave of attackers launched flashbang grenades, incapacitating Kryon’s sentries before they even realized what was happening. Chaos erupted quickly, alarms blaring as the enemy forces scrambled awake to face the sudden threat.

Evelyn, stationed further back in her improvised command tent but with a perfect view of the unfolding attack, directed the movements of the rebel troops with surgical precision. She monitored every skirmish on her screens, adjusting orders based on the reports coming in. “Delta Unit, move forward ten meters and secure the south entrance. Alpha Group, defensive formation near the armory,” she commanded, her voice clear and unwavering.

The rebels, coordinated by Evelyn, systematically emptied the depot’s stockpiles to arm their forces. Crates of ammunition, assault rifles, and explosives were swiftly carried away, while scouts kept a vigilant watch for enemy reinforcements. At the heart of the action, Vykhor moved like a shadow, his cybernetic arm ready to strike. He had already taken down several guards, leaving unconscious bodies in his wake, and observed the operations with a calculating eye.

Despite being in the thick of the action, he never lost sight of Kharok, who was participating in the assault with an unusual intensity. Evelyn’s warning about Kharok’s suspicious behavior weighed on his mind, and he knew he had to stay alert. Every move Kharok made was scrutinized, and a simmering tension coiled within Vykhor, knowing that any sign of betrayal could turn the tide of the attack in an instant.

From her command post, Evelyn’s gaze remained glued to the screens, analyzing every movement of the team. Her eyes suddenly locked onto Kharok, who was moving stealthily toward Skye’s position. Something in his demeanor, the way he crept forward, made Evelyn’s blood run cold. His intentions were clear: he was preparing to eliminate Skye.

Evelyn’s heart raced. Without hesitation, she activated the private channel to Vykhor, her voice laced with urgency. “Kharok is about to attack Skye!” she said in Kael’tarien, barely able to suppress her panic.

Vykhor, who had been monitoring the transfer of weapons, sprang into action. He knew all too well what this kind of maneuver meant: a traitor striking from the shadows. Abandoning his position, he dashed toward Skye, who remained focused on covering the rebels with her sniper rifle, completely unaware of the imminent threat.

Kharok, eyes locked on Skye, had already drawn a blade from his belt. His intent was clear: a swift, silent kill. But just as he was about to strike, Vykhor appeared like a raging storm, grabbing Kharok’s wrist and forcing him to drop the weapon. The clatter of metal echoed across the depot floor.

Skye, startled by Vykhor’s sudden intervention, turned just in time to see Kharok pinned, his face twisted with hatred. Vykhor, with a crushing grip, forced Kharok to his knees. Yet, even in his compromised position, Kharok’s lips curled into a sinister smile, followed by a chilling laugh.

“An angel watching over you, huh?” he sneered, his dark eyes gleaming with a wicked light. “It’s good to have one. But who’s watching the angel when danger is closer than he thinks?”

Kharok’s words sent a jolt of dread through Vykhor. In a split second, he understood what the traitor meant. The attack on Skye was a diversion. Evelyn… Evelyn was the real target. Kryon must have learned of her strategic importance, her critical role in coordinating the rebel forces.

Rage flared within Vykhor. He knew Evelyn was in danger, likely caught in a trap he hadn’t foreseen. “Kryna,” he barked into the comm, his voice sharp and commanding. “Locate Evelyn, now!”

Switching to his private channel with Evelyn, he called out, his tone urgent and filled with dread. “Evelyn, get to safety, now!”

But there was no response. A suffocating silence hung over the line, so unlike Evelyn. His heart clenched, a cold resolve taking over. Something was very wrong. The trap had been sprung, and Evelyn might already be ensnared in its grasp.

Vykhor’s eyes narrowed with fury as he glared at Kharok, who continued to laugh, clearly relishing the chaos he had caused. Vykhor tightened his grip on the traitor, but he knew dealing with Kharok wasn’t the priority. Saving Evelyn was.

“Skye, Rax,” he commanded over the team’s shared channel, “Kharok was a distraction. Evelyn is in danger. We need to find her, now.”

Skye, grasping the gravity of the situation, readied her rifle without hesitation. Rax sprang into action, using his tech skills to try and trace Evelyn through the communications network.

Vykhor rose, leaving Kharok to the other mercenaries. His mission was clear: find Evelyn before it was too late. Pushing through the chaos of the battlefield, his mind was singularly focused on her. She had always been there for him, for the team, and he wouldn’t abandon her now—not to an enemy as devious as Lord Kryon.

“Kryna,” he pressed, his voice urgent. “Where is Evelyn?”

The Narak’Tharr’s AI responded promptly, her calm tone contrasting with the rising tension. “Evelyn’s last known position was near the mobile command center. I’m attempting to contact her, but there’s interference.”

Without wasting a second, Vykhor sprinted toward the area, his cybernetic arm ready for anything. Evelyn had to be found, and nothing would stand in his way. The memory of Kharok’s mocking laughter and ominous words fueled his fury. This was no longer just a mission—it was personal.

Evelyn, meanwhile, sat at the mobile command center, her eyes scanning the data on her screens. Everything appeared to be proceeding as planned, but a gnawing feeling of unease had taken root. Something was wrong, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what. Her hypermnesiac mind, usually her greatest asset, was now in overdrive. Over time and under Vykhor’s guidance, she had learned to trust her instincts, and right now, those instincts were screaming danger.

Pausing mid-typing, Evelyn froze, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, her pulse quickening. Something—or someone—was coming. A cold shiver ran down her spine, forcing her to act quickly. She rose from her seat, her eyes darting around for an exit. She knew she had no choice; she had to leave the command center immediately.

Without wasting time, she shut down the screens and locked the system, hoping to delay her pursuers. Grabbing her bag, she quickly checked to ensure she had what she needed and slipped out silently, merging into the shadows of the forest that surrounded the camp.

The forest’s thick foliage filtered the waning light, creating a maze of shifting shadows. Evelyn moved swiftly and silently, her every step calculated to avoid making noise. Her mind raced, using the environmental details she had memorized earlier. One of the first lessons Vykhor had taught her was to always be aware of her surroundings, and she had taken that lesson to heart.

She weaved her way through the underbrush, but the voices behind her grew louder. Her pursuers were close, moving with purpose. They knew exactly where to find her. Her heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain calm. Panicking wouldn’t help; she had to outthink them.