Neart Ironcrest stood inside a tent and gazed at the crates of guns and ammo that were stored inside it. Corporal Nick Davis stood right beside him and was busy taking photographs of the scene. Outside, Sergeant Tyler Hoffer was wrapping up the cleanup operation with the rest of the soldiers. A few of their men were currently being treated in an adjacent tent while a few of the other soldiers were busy scouting the rest of tents the mercenary group had set up close to an oasis.

"Aside from the rations, they have a few canteens of alcohol, cases of bullets and magazines, modified firearms, and boxes of contraband, Sir." The young corporal muttered under his breath and tucked the tablet computer in his arm. "I'll have someone load these in the truck. Permission to order the kids around and return to reading the comics?"

"Comics? Is the map that bad?" Neart Ironcrest raised an eyebrow.

The younger soldier gave him a grave look. "I would rather read poorly translated Japanese comics on dial-up connection than look at the map, Sir."

A series of gunshots echoed outside the quiet encampment. The two officers ran outside the tent and saw a soldier running towards them. The soldier gave them a salute and quickly relayed the information he was tasked to deliver to Major General Ironcrest.

"Sir! We found two children and we're currently trying to restrain one of them."

Neart Ironcrest and Corporal Davis followed the man towards the source of the commotion. The Major General's face turned a few shades dark when he heard the word children. "Children? And you shot at the wee brats?"

"No, Sir," The soldier quickly replied. A guilty look flashed on his face. "He-, the boy, shot us."

"He shot you? He shot you with a gun?" Corporal Davis halted in his steps. He ran after the two males who went ahead and yelled. "How the hell did the kid get a gun?!"

The soldier's complexion turned pale. "He's a Spellcaster, Sir. A fire spell leapt from his hand and he wrenched a gun from the nearest soldier's hands. The men have him surrounded. We're waiting for your orders to put him down."

"Corporal, how many of our men have experience with Spellcasters?" Neart Ironcrest paled. The blank look on Corporal Davis's face made the older man increase his pace. He cursed. "If you don't know what arseways is, this is it."

They arrived at a tent that had a gaping hole that was singed on the edges. Neart Ironcrest went in with Corporal Davis hot on his heels. Sergeant Taylor Hoffer was waiting inside. The Major General scanned the tent's interior to check just what the fuss was about. Neart's mouth hung open as he stared at the young boy in front of him who was holding a gun.

The lad was stick thin, with bony hands and dirty clothing that was almost coming apart from the seams. The child had a messy blonde mane that made him look like a lion. But the wild look in his vibrant azure eyes was accompanied by another emotion Neart Ironcrest was well acquainted with after spending too many years in his line of work that tempted the Grim Reaper often.

Fear.

The child was afraid. Even though his bright blue orbs shone with a blazing fire, it could never hide the shaking of his hands or the way his pupils dilated in the dim lightning of the tent. It was a normal emotion for someone faced with a group of men pointing their guns at you. It was the same look a few weak-hearted recruits had when holding a live gun for the first time. It was the same look his soldiers had given him after they had made their first kill.

Neart Ironcrest took a deep breath. "Everyone except Sergeant Hoffer, get out. Quietly."

The people who had originally crowded in the tent left. Even Corporal Davis begrudgingly made his exit after seeing the look on Neart Ironcrest's face.

The boy looked at him with a heated gaze and growled. "Where's Aria?!"

"Aria?" A white eyebrow rose. The soldier that had approached him earlier had mentioned finding two children yet only one was standing before him. The senior officer stared at the bearded male beside him.

Seargent Hoffer cleared his throat. "She was in worse condition than he was. Someone carried her to the medics, Sir."

The answer seemed to placate the boy. He stared at Seargent Hoffer and pointed the gun at the adult. The semi-automatic shook in his bony hands. "I want to see her."

"Sir." Sergeant Hoffer croaked. He inched close to the Major General's side and whispered to his ear. "The children were found tied and starved. We estimate that they've had little to no food or water in the last three days. When we took the girl to the medics, she looked like she was on her last breaths. She might not make it."

"You're lying!" The boy roared. He had heard everything. The semi-automatic shook in his bony hands. "Where is she!?"

Neart Ironcrest studied the boy and turned to face his subordinate. "Go and get her, Sergeant."

Sergeant Hoffer looked conflicted. "But Sir, If I leave you without any backup-"

"Go and get the girl. I know how to deal with Spellcasters, you wanker." The senior officer cut him off. "At least give 'em a chance to say goodbye. You're dismissed."

Major General Ironcrest turned to look at the young boy and completely disregarded the other male who left with a conflicted look plastered on his face. The adult and the child stared each other in silence until the boy with azure orbs spoke.

"She's not going to die." The youth's voice was full of confidence, Neart Ironcrest almost believed him.

"If you think that way, then maybe she won't." The man's voice softened.

The boy replied with a huff, but the tension inside the tent had lessened. Neart Ironcrest continued to observe the young male with blonde hair as they waited for Sergeant Hoffer to return.

"Where's your family, lad?" The man asked.

The boy didn't reply. His blue eyes gazed elsewhere, almost like he was trying to see beyond the tent and into the horizon. Neart Ironcrest guessed the boy's parents had died in the hands of the mercenaries, or he had been orphaned the day he was born. The Military officer sighed and changed the topic.

"Is the lass your sister?"

Blue eyes glinted. The boy turned towards him. "Aria? Somewhat."

A white bushy eyebrow rose up. "You're not related?"

"Doesn't matter. She's the only family I got," the boy grumbled.

Neart Ironcrest took a deep breath. He had seen too many scenes like this. He had seen too many children turned into orphans once their parents died in the battlefield. It was the main reason why he and his wife didn't have any kids. He was afraid he'd leave them brokenhearted when it was his time to perish in the line of duty.

Yet, he couldn't help but feel that the house he came home to was becoming more and more quiet as the years passed by. His fear didn't stop him from yearning for small voices to fill the house with their laughter. Yes, he loved his wife. Yes, they had decided not to have children. But the gap that neither he nor his wife could fill confronted him everytime he went home.

Neart Ironcrest heard the flap behind him opening. He turned. "How was it, Hoff-"

The man clamped his mouth shut. Instead of Sergeant Hoffer, a small female with long brown hair trudged into the tent. She looked worse for wear, her cheeks were slightly sunken, and her back looked like it would snap at any moment. But the girl took purposeful strides towards the boy who looked at her with wide eyes. The small female took the gun from his hands and smacked him on the head with her other hand.

"Stupidus," she said. "I told you not to cause trouble."

"You're okay," the boy whispered. "They said that you were going to die."

Neart Ironcrest watched as the boy visibly stiffened before clearing his throat. "Of course, I didn't believe them."

The small girl didn't make a peep. She turned around with the gun in her hands and looked up at the soldier who looked at her in silence. Black orbs which seemed as unfathomable and infinite as the night sky stared at him. The look on her face was calm – vigilant. Neart Ironcrest met her gaze and found himself captivated by her obsidian eyes. It was almost as if an inexplicable and primordial force was tugging at his soul.