Night deepened, plunging the elven glade into quiet darkness, interrupted only by the soft glow of the orb-lamps and the gentle crackling from a small communal fire. High above, Marcus "Saint" Miller perched in the oak's makeshift watchtower, rifle across his lap. He scanned the starlit forest with binoculars, occasionally glimpsing flickers of distant movement. Each time, it turned out to be swaying branches or an owl's silent hunt.
On the ground below, Lt. Jason "Grim" Cooper stepped carefully between the low huts, nodding to a pair of elves on patrol. Their stares weren't hostile—more curious. The "thunder-weapons" these strangers carried clearly fascinated and unnerved them in equal measure. On his way back to the edge of the glade, Jason paused near a small wooden bench to watch Derek "Hawk" Hawkins carefully adjust the tension on another tripwire rig.
"You think we'll get any sleep tonight?" Jason asked, voice low.
Derek shrugged. "If we're lucky, we won't need these traps at all. But luck hasn't been our strong suit lately."
A faint breeze rustled overhead. A delicate chime of metal sounded where Derek's wire connected to empty tin containers. Satisfied, Derek stood and slung his rifle back over one shoulder. He glanced at Jason, sharing a wordless moment—both men remembering that none of this had been in the mission plan. But it was their mission now.
Suddenly, an elf ranger glided by, pressing a finger to her lips in a gesture of silence. She nodded at Derek's tripwire contraption with what looked like approval, then vanished into the undergrowth. Her fleeting presence reminded them that watchers were everywhere in this forest—and not all were as friendly as these elves.
"Unreal," Derek murmured. "I blink, and they're gone."
Jason crossed his arms, scanning the treeline. "I'll do another perimeter check. You take an hour's rest. Then we swap."
Derek gave a half-smile. "Roger that, boss."
A Half-Hour Later
A hush held in the glade. Tired refugees slept under woven blankets near a small fire. Elven guards patrolled quietly, more silhouettes than people—slipping among trees without a sound. Marcus, up in the oak, fought off yawns. He'd been peering through the binos for ages.
Down on the forest floor, Jason crouched to examine footprints by a gnarled root. Small game tracks. Harmless. He breathed easier, rising to continue his sweep. But as he turned, a flicker of movement caught his eye—just past the perimeter, near a cluster of mossy boulders.
He froze, exhaling slowly. The shape was tall, vaguely humanoid, though the darkness made details uncertain. It hovered at the edge of the moonlight, perhaps fifty yards away, completely still. Not an elf; the silhouette was too bulky. Not an orc, either; orcs usually moved with a more brazen, stomping gait. Could it be something else?
Jason tapped his comm, though the local interference rendered them effectively short-range walkie-talkies. "Saint, you see anything north side?"
Marcus's crackly whisper: "Negative. Just roger on you. Problem?"
Jason licked his lips. "Might have a visitor. Stand by."
He flicked his rifle's safety off and, with careful steps, advanced a few yards. The figure didn't budge—almost as if waiting. Jason called softly, "Identify yourself!" hoping maybe one of the elven rangers was testing them. No response.
Another step closer, and the shape slipped behind a tree trunk. Jason caught a glimpse of what might have been a cloak or ragged robe. Then a glint—like a reflection in the eye of a nocturnal predator. Instinct flared. He crouched and snapped his rifle up, but the figure stepped behind the boulder and vanished, silent as a ghost.
Marcus's whisper came again. "Grim, confirm status?"
Jason exhaled. "We have a lurker. Approached the perimeter from the north. Gone now."
"Copy. Want me on foot?"
"Stay put. I'm circling back to warn the elves."
Without waiting for an answer, Jason retraced his steps, scanning the shadows. The forest felt more alive now, the hair on his neck standing on end. He could sense something out there—a presence that observed, evaluating. Not necessarily an immediate threat, but definitely unseen and far too quiet for comfort.
Back near the center of the glade, Jason found an elven guard. With halting gestures, he tried to convey what he'd seen: a cloaked figure outside the perimeter. The elf's eyes narrowed. He beckoned two other guards over, murmuring instructions in the melodic local tongue.
Derek, awakened by the subdued commotion, joined them. "Problems?"
Jason nodded. "North side. Unidentified visitor. Didn't respond to me."
Derek frowned. "Could be a scout from that fortress. Or some other faction we haven't even encountered yet."
An elf from the newly gathered guards approached, managing a few carefully enunciated words. "We… search. Quiet. You… guard." Then he motioned Jason and Derek to stay put, while he and the other elves disappeared into the foliage, presumably on a silent reconnaissance.
With a frustrated sigh, Derek muttered, "I hate being stuck on the sidelines, but we can't chase phantoms in pitch darkness, I guess."
Jason nodded agreement, though tension wired through him. They needed to maintain security. If some unknown party was testing their defenses, they couldn't afford to scatter.
Marcus climbed down from the oak at Jason's signal. The three of them conferred in hushed voices.
"Whatever it was, it didn't attack," Jason said. "Almost like it was… studying us."
Marcus shoved down a worried thought. "We didn't come here alone," he muttered, recalling the swirling magic that had brought them. "Could some other force have come through too? Something that followed us?"
Derek grimaced. "Last thing we need is more weirdness from Earth crossing into fantasy land."
They swapped watch duties again. Marcus took the ground patrol while Derek headed to the vantage post in the oak, ears straining for the slightest sound. Jason prowled the perimeter with careful steps, feeling the pulse of the forest throbbing under the moonlight.
Yet, for hours, there was no further sign of the cloaked figure. No rustle of branches, no footsteps. Even the elves who returned later reported nothing conclusive—just faint depressions in the moss that might've been footprints or an animal's track. Their hushed exchange of words signaled confusion. The watchers had become the watched, and the mysterious presence had vanished without a trace.
Dawn crept in once again, the sky lightening to a pale gray. Dew clung to the leaves, and the orb-lamps slowly dimmed as the elves extinguished their magical light. A new day in a strange realm.
Exhausted but unscathed, Jason called the SEALs together by a small cooking fire where an elf offered them steaming bowls of herb-scented broth. The robed man nodded in greeting, color returning to his cheeks. His wide eyes suggested he'd heard about the night's intruder too.
"What I'd give for real coffee," Derek quipped, sipping the bitter herbal concoction with a wince. "But hey, tastes better than an MRE, at least."
Marcus let out a tired chuckle. "I'd trade half our ammo for a double espresso right now."
Jason, cradling his own bowl, gazed at the forest beyond the enclave. "We have to assume there are more eyes on us now. Could be orc scouts, could be some other player in this world. We need intel—who else would lurk around here at night?"
Derek shook his head. "Let's pray it's not 'dark wraiths' or something. I'm about at my cap for new horrors."
Despite the wisecracks, the team felt a renewed edge of caution. They'd established a basic perimeter—but it wouldn't matter if an unseen observer bypassed it with otherworldly skill or magic. The encounter underscored that their presence in this land was no secret. And if Malachar or any other hostile force wanted to probe their defenses, last night might have been just the beginning.
Downing the last of his broth, Jason set the bowl aside and stood. "Alright, daybreak. We coordinate with the elves—figure out who's friend and who's foe around here. We can't sit in this glade forever."
Marcus and Derek exchanged nods. The sun's rays fell through the canopy, promising a new day of forging alliances, gathering intel, and bracing themselves for the next curveball this realm threw their way.
But a nagging thought gnawed at them: Who had watched them under the moonlight, silent and unblinking? And what did they want? Only time—and perhaps another tense night—would tell.