Chapter 65: Beyond Standards
Before dawn...
The academy was already awake.
Lanterns glowed along the stone roads as merchants finished loading the last of their supplies.
The air smelled of rain and fresh earth.
A cool breeze swept through the front gates.
Today...
Squad Seven would leave Valhalla Academy for the first time.
Noah adjusted the straps of his travel pack.
Shadowfang rested beneath his cloak.
The rusted iron key hung quietly against his chest.
Nothing about him looked different.
Yet...
Everything felt different.
Eric arrived carrying an oversized backpack.
"...I packed enough food for two weeks."
Luna looked at it.
"Our mission is five days."
"I get hungry."
Sophia giggled.
"You always get hungry."
Damien walked over carrying only a single bag.
Eric stared.
"...Is that all?"
Damien nodded.
"I packed what I need."
Eric looked back at his own mountain of luggage.
"...I may have overdone it."
"You definitely did."
Luna replied.
The five gathered beside the academy gates.
Beyond them...
Five merchant wagons stood ready.
Heavy wooden wheels.
Canvas-covered cargo.
A dozen merchants busily checked ropes and crates.
Several experienced caravan guards adjusted their armor.
Professor Astrid stepped forward.
"Good."
"Everyone is on time."
She looked over the squad.
Satisfied.
A broad-shouldered man with a thick brown beard approached.
His weathered face carried countless old scars.
He removed his hat politely.
"Morning, Professor."
Astrid nodded.
"Squad Seven."
"This is Mr. Rowan."
"He’ll be leading the caravan."
Rowan smiled warmly.
"So..."
"These are the academy kids."
Eric puffed out his chest.
"We’re professionals."
Rowan laughed.
"I remember saying the same thing at your age."
He extended his hand toward Noah.
"You must be the squad leader."
Noah shook it.
"Noah Blackwood."
"Rowan."
The merchant’s handshake was firm.
Honest.
"I’ve been traveling these roads for nearly thirty years."
"If you youngsters have questions..."
"...ask."
Professor Astrid gathered everyone around the lead wagon.
"The journey to Eldermere takes approximately three days."
"We camp twice."
"You’ll rotate night watch with the caravan guards."
She looked directly at Noah.
"You are here to observe."
"Fight only if necessary."
Noah nodded.
"Understood."
Astrid’s gaze shifted toward the merchants.
"If any problems arise..."
"You report them immediately."
No heroics."
Eric quietly whispered,
"She’s definitely talking to me."
Luna smirked.
"She absolutely is."
The massive wooden gates of Valhalla Academy slowly opened.
Morning sunlight spilled across the road beyond.
For many first-year students...
This was their first time leaving the academy since enrollment.
The caravan began moving.
The wagons creaked.
Horses snorted.
Merchants exchanged cheerful greetings.
Noah looked back once.
The academy stood proudly atop the hill.
Its white towers gleamed beneath the rising sun.
It looked peaceful.
Safe.
Then he turned forward.
The open road stretched into the distance.
Unknown.
Hours passed peacefully.
The caravan followed a well-maintained trade route.
Rolling hills surrounded them.
Golden fields swayed beneath the wind.
Farmers waved as the wagons rolled past.
Children chased one another beside small villages.
Eric smiled.
"...This isn’t so bad."
Rowan chuckled.
"The first day usually isn’t."
Around midday...
The caravan stopped beside a clear stream.
Merchants watered the horses while everyone rested.
Noah opened the leather travel journal Professor Astrid had given him.
He wrote:
Day One
Weather clear.
Caravan departed safely.
No incidents.
He paused.
Then added another line.
Rowan says the first day is usually peaceful.
He closed the journal.
Later that afternoon...
The road narrowed.
The farmland gradually disappeared.
Ancient pine trees rose on both sides.
Graypine Forest.
The air became noticeably cooler.
One of the older caravan guards frowned.
"...Strange."
Rowan looked over.
"What is it?"
"The birds."
Everyone listened.
Nothing.
No singing.
No rustling wings.
Only the sound of wagon wheels.
Rowan’s cheerful expression faded slightly.
"...Keep moving."
Luna quietly stepped closer to Noah.
"The forest feels..."
She searched for the right word.
"...Empty."
Noah nodded.
He felt it too.
Not dangerous.
Just...
Watching.
As the caravan rounded another bend...
They encountered an elderly woodcutter pushing a small cart.
His beard reached his chest.
An old axe rested across his shoulder.
Rowan waved.
"Morning, Old Bram!"
The old man smiled.
"Rowan."
"You headed to Eldermere?"
"As always."
The woodcutter’s smile slowly faded.
He looked toward the forest.
Then at the young academy students.
Finally...
His eyes settled on Noah.
"You youngsters..."
He spoke quietly.
"If you hear someone calling your name..."
"...don’t answer."
Silence.
Eric blinked.
"...What?"
The old man simply adjusted his cart.
"I’ve lived beside Graypine Forest for forty years."
He looked toward the trees one last time.
"And the forest..."
"...sometimes remembers voices."
Without another word...
He continued down the road.
Leaving the caravan behind.
No one laughed.
Not even Eric.
Because...
Noah remembered.
The maze beneath Valhalla Academy.
The voices.
The perfect imitations.
He looked into the endless forest.
The trees stood perfectly still.
Yet...
For the briefest moment...
He could have sworn...
Someone had whispered his name.
The caravan continued deeper into Graypine Forest.
Towering pines blocked much of the afternoon sun.
The road narrowed.
Roots pushed through the old stone path.
The deeper they traveled...
The quieter the forest became.
Nobody mentioned the old woodcutter’s warning.
Yet...
No one forgot it either.
Eric eventually broke the silence.
"...Maybe he was just trying to scare us."
Rowan, walking beside the lead wagon, didn’t answer immediately.
After a while...
He spoke.
"Old Bram doesn’t joke."
Eric’s smile faded.
The caravan pressed onward.
Hours passed without incident.
No monsters.
No bandits.
Not even a wild animal crossed their path.
As the sun dipped below the trees...
Rowan raised his hand.
"We stop here."
The merchants immediately went to work.
Tents were raised.
Horses were watered.
A campfire crackled to life.
The practiced routine told Noah this wasn’t their first journey.
Not even their hundredth.
Professor Astrid wasn’t with them.
This mission belonged to Squad Seven.
The caravan guards.
And the road.
Rowan spread a rough map across a crate.
"Night watch."
He looked around.
"My guards will take the first and last shifts."
He turned to Noah.
"Your squad takes the middle."
"Midnight until two."
Noah nodded.
"We’ll be ready."
After dinner...
The merchants shared stories around the fire.
Some were funny.
Others unbelievable.
Eric laughed so hard he nearly dropped his bowl when one merchant claimed he’d once outrun a bear.
"You didn’t."
"I absolutely did."
"The bear must’ve been asleep."
The camp erupted in laughter.
Noah listened quietly.
These people weren’t warriors.
They weren’t heroes.
They were ordinary people trying to make an honest living.
For the first time...
He truly understood why the academy sent students on these missions.
There were lives worth protecting beyond the classroom.
Later...
The stars filled the night sky.
The forest remained unnaturally still.
Midnight arrived.
Squad Seven took over the watch.
Eric sat on a fallen log, trying very hard to stay awake.
Luna silently patrolled the edge of the camp.
Sophia watched the tree line.
Damien sharpened his practice blade with slow, steady movements.
Noah walked a slow circle around the wagons.
Everything seemed peaceful.
Almost...
Too peaceful.
Sophia suddenly frowned.
"...Do you hear that?"
Everyone listened.
At first...
Nothing.
Then...
A faint humming.
Soft.
Gentle.
Like someone singing far away.
Eric stood.
"...There’s another camp nearby?"
Damien shook his head.
"No."
"The sound isn’t moving."
The humming continued.
The melody was unfamiliar.
Neither happy nor sad.
Just...
Ancient.
Luna returned from the edge of the camp.
"I checked."
"There’s nobody out there."
The humming stopped.
Abruptly.
Silence.
Then...
One of the horses neighed loudly.
Another stomped nervously.
Within seconds...
Every horse in the caravan became restless.
Rowan emerged from his tent.
Already awake.
His face immediately became serious.
"...Everyone stay close to the fire."
The merchants quietly gathered.
No panic.
Just quiet discipline.
As though they’d experienced this before.
Noah noticed Rowan counting.
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five wagons.
Six horses.
Twelve merchants.
Eight guards.
Everyone accounted for.
Rowan let out a quiet breath.
"...Good."
Eric looked confused.
"Why were you counting?"
Rowan answered without taking his eyes off the forest.
"Because sometimes..."
He hesitated.
"...people wander."
No one laughed.
A cold wind swept through the camp.
The fire flickered.
For just an instant...
The flames turned pale blue.
Then...
Returned to normal.
Damien slowly stood.
His eyes fixed on the darkness between the trees.
"...We’re not alone."
Noah followed his gaze.
At first...
He saw nothing.
Then...
Between two ancient pines...
A figure.
Standing perfectly still.
Too far away to make out clearly.
It looked...
Like a child.
The figure didn’t move.
Didn’t wave.
Didn’t speak.
It simply watched the camp.
Eric whispered,
"...Should we call out?"
Noah remembered Old Bram’s warning.
"If you hear someone calling your name... don’t answer."
He wasn’t about to take chances.
"No."
"We hold our position."
The child-sized silhouette slowly lifted one arm.
Pointing...
Deeper into the forest.
Then...
It vanished.
Not by running.
Not by fading.
It was simply...
Gone.
The humming returned.
Only this time...
It came from the opposite side of the camp.