Mother of Midnight-Chapter 240 – The New Crew

Mother of Midnight-Chapter 240 – The New Crew

“This is who will be accompanying you on your mission,” Narek said, voice calm but firm. “Derk here is one of my best assassins and a master strategist. Hana, Gorde, Lunas, and Chary have worked with him for years. There are another five, but they’re handling the last phase of preparation.”
Caelum took a slow breath, his eyes scanning the assembled warriors. All of them were armed, armored, and utterly focused. Eyes that had seen too many shadows and survived them. These were not soldiers. These were predators.
He bowed at the waist, the gesture practiced, respectful. “I look forward to working with you all.”
He barely had time to straighten before Hana spoke up, her voice a low snarl. She stepped forward, claws flexing at her sides, posture tense like she was preparing to pounce. She looked almost entirely wolf—grey fur bristling across her face and arms, muzzle twitching as though his very presence offended her nose.
“He still has the stink of Aegis on him,” she spat. “Can we even trust a human with this?”
Caelum felt his jaw tighten, but forced himself to stay composed. The accusation didn’t come as a surprise. If anything, he had expected worse. Aegis had burned entire clans of nonhumans for less than what he’d done.
He met her eyes, cool and steady, but said nothing.
“You are welcome to go to the High Fang herself and argue with her orders, if you would prefer,” Narek said dryly, not even turning his head.
Hana’s hackles lowered. She backed down, if only slightly. “No, Twilight Fang. I retract my statement.”
“Good.” Narek gave a nod, then turned his attention back to the group as a whole. “Caelum, if you are going to work with us, speak your mind. Do not let wounds fester. You will be outnumbered and outmatched. If there is distrust between you, this mission will fail.”
Caelum took a moment to collect his thoughts. His fingers curled slightly at his sides before he relaxed them.
“I understand,” he said slowly. “And I’ll be clear now—whatever scent I carry, it is not loyalty to Aegis. I do not fight for Praxus. I do not believe the High Council is fit to rule.”
He glanced toward Hana, then the others. No pleading. Just truth.
“I burned the Church of Praxus to the ground in my home village before I came here. They had turned our prayers into chains. Called it doctrine. Called it law. My people suffered under it.”
His voice sharpened, the weight of memory pressing against his ribs. “What I do now, I do for them. This isn’t politics to me. It’s personal.”
A beat of silence passed. Tension still hung in the air, but something shifted in the way a few of them looked at him—less as an outsider, more as someone who had been forged in a similar fire.
Derk gave a small nod. Lunas tilted her head, as if re-evaluating him. Even Hana said nothing more—for now.
Narek’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Approval, perhaps. Or understanding.
“Good.” Narek’s voice was sharp, decisive, signaling the end of the tension from moments before. “Now that that issue is settled, let’s move on to the details.”
He turned to Caelum fully, his golden eyes steady. “As of this moment, you are officially released from house arrest—on a temporary basis. You’ll have full freedom of movement during the mission. Come and go as you see fit. And if your performance merits it… that status may become permanent.”
Caelum inclined his head, careful not to let the flicker of relief show too clearly. He’d earned his place here with blood, not trust—but this was progress. A crack in the wall.
Narek continued. “Now, the situation. I had my older brother, Tarric, scry the region ahead of your arrival. According to his latest vision, there are roughly eight hundred soldiers stationed in Drakthar. Mostly infantry with some arcane support, likely on rotation.”
There were quiet murmurs among the gathered operatives. Eight hundred wasn’t an impossible number, but it was a problem.
“Your mission,” Narek said, gaze sweeping across the room, “is to eliminate whoever is in command. Once the commander is dead, the next will come. Kill them too. And the next. As many times as it takes. This operation is not about ending a war in a day—it’s about breaking the head and sowing chaos in the body.”
Caelum nodded slowly, already beginning to turn the logistics over in his mind.
“In between assassinations,” Narek added, “you’ll be disrupting supply lines—cutting off food, weapon shipments, communication routes. The more starved and isolated the force becomes, the more desperate they’ll grow. And the more errors they’ll make.”
Hana folded her arms, ears twitching. “They’ve moved most of their soldiers into the clanlands. Is that confirmed?”
“It is,” Narek replied. “The last of their major convoys moved out three nights ago. They're pushing toward Serkoth now, spreading thin as they go.”
“That’s risky,” Chary muttered. “They're overextending.”
“Exactly,” Narek said. “And we are going to make them pay for it. You’ll strike in Drakthar while their focus is elsewhere. A commander dead in their own stronghold? That’ll send panic all the way back to their capital.”
He let that hang in the air for a moment.
“You’ll be outnumbered. Hunted. But if you succeed, this campaign might turn overnight.”
Caelum squared his shoulders. “Understood. When do we move?”
“Three nights from now. Rest while you can. Train. And learn to work together.”
Everyone gave a final nod of understanding, the tension in the war room fading but never fully dispersing. One by one, they filed out through the heavy door, murmuring quietly among themselves, their shadows stretching long in the torchlight.
Caelum lingered behind, eyes flicking to the maps one last time—until he felt a light tap on his shoulder.
He turned to see Derk standing close, the lekine's amber eyes sharp beneath a curtain of dark, furred bangs. Though he was smaller than most of his crew, there was something quietly lethal in the way he moved—like a knife that never missed.
“Walk with me,” Derk said quietly.
They stepped into a side corridor, the stone walls damp with the scent of moss and old blood. Derk stopped just short of a branching hallway, glanced around to ensure privacy, then fixed Caelum with a gaze that could slice clean through armor.
“Can I trust my crew with you?” he asked flatly.
The words weren’t cold, but they weren’t friendly either. They were measured. Heavy.
Caelum blinked, then nodded. “I’m inexperienced, yes—but I won’t fail. The power my goddess gave me wasn’t a gift, it was a responsibility. I intend to wield it to the fullest. Aegis must be stopped—”
“I didn’t ask if you could do the mission,” Derk interrupted, his voice dropping to a gravel-edged whisper. “I asked if I can trust you
with my crew.
”
Caelum hesitated.
Derk stepped forward, barely a hand’s breadth from him now. “Success is important. But not if it comes with five graves. I’ve bled with Hana. Pulled arrows out of Chary’s back. Watched Lunas get torn in half and stitched back together. We don’t leave each other behind. We don’t die for someone’s
mission statement.
So I need to know if you’ll hold the line
for them,
not just for whatever’s burning in your chest.”
The silence stretched. Caelum’s breath was steady, his face unreadable—but inside, the weight of Derk’s words settled like a stone in his stomach.
“I understand,” he said quietly. “You’re not asking for power. You’re asking for loyalty. For care.”
Derk gave a short nod. Still watching.
“I swear it, then,” Caelum said. “On the power she gave me. I’ll watch their backs like they were my own. You have my word.”
Derk studied him for a beat longer, then gave the smallest grunt of approval.
“Alright. We leave at dusk, three days from now. We will start training tomorrow in the western forest. Be there by the first bell.”
With that, he turned and vanished down the corridor with the same silent grace as a shadow cast by moonlight.
Caelum exhaled slowly.
They were all so intense. Sharp-edged. Purposeful. Caelum hadn’t expected anything less from the infamous resistance fighters of the clanlands, but he hadn’t been prepared for Derk’s attitude. Not really. He understood suspicion. What caught him off guard was how
personal
it all felt. Not just about the mission. About each other.
Wouldn’t the mission be the most important thing?
That’s how he had been raised to think. Cold calculations. Objectives. Acceptable sacrifices. If one life—his life—meant saving a hundred, he’d lay it down without hesitation.
But Derk’s words had cut through that. Sharper than any blade.
There wouldn’t be a fight if one was dead.
A corpse couldn’t protect anyone. Couldn’t make change. Couldn’t carry truth forward.
As long as they were alive, there would be someone to keep fighting.
It echoed in his head even after he’d returned to his room.
He shut the door behind him and exhaled, then peeled off his coat with stiff fingers. The leather was damp from sweat and tension. He tossed it over the chair beside the bed and sat heavily on the edge of the mattress, rubbing his eyes.
His thoughts drifted to Serkoth—what little he could see of it from the clanhall's fortified perch. It was… different. The city’s architecture was plain, functional. Nothing like the gleaming towers and ornate facades of the Sovereignty. No filigree. No gold. Just stone and wood, forged for resilience. For
use.
It was strange. Humbling. In the Sovereignty, buildings were designed to inspire awe. Here, they were made to endure.
He wondered if the other clans were like this too. If Drakthar, their destination, carried the same stern beauty. He supposed he’d find out soon enough.
There was a part of him—one that had grown louder lately—that wanted to understand. To see it all for himself. Not just the buildings. The people. The culture. The
truth.
He had spent so much of his life being told what to believe. Taught to see the world in binaries. Civilization versus savagery. Order versus chaos. But already, just in his short time here, that worldview had started to unravel. He’d heard people speak up to their leaders—not with disrespect, but with honesty. With
agency.
He saw loyalty here, but it wasn’t blind. It was earned.
Chosen.
Religion still had a place, but it was… quieter. Less rigid. And it belonged to
all
the gods, not just one.
All but Praxus.
Caelum hadn't seen a single shrine to the Sovereign God here, nor heard a single utterance of devotion. It was as if he’d been exiled even from memory. Serranos, god of the tempest, seemed most revered in these parts—but no one he’d met worshipped exclusively. There were offerings to Virdan, to Nirathys, to Heraline and Yenhr. There was room for all of it. All of them.
All but him.
And no one seemed to miss him.
Caelum leaned back on his elbows, staring at the wooden beams overhead. So much of his life had been framed by Praxus’s shadow. And now he stood for Yenhr and her compassion for the mortal peoples.
But he
was
sure of one thing: he needed to keep going. Not just with the mission, but with the
learning.
To see what was real.
To see if they got it right.
Or at the very least… if they got it better.
Training had… honestly gone more smoothly than Caelum had expected. The physical component was the easiest part by far—no surprise there. Years of running, hiding, and surviving had hardened his body, and his time with Akhenna had only pushed his limits further. Learning stealth, though—that had been humbling. Moving without sound, syncing his breath with shadows, understanding when
not
to look—those things didn’t come naturally. He could feel the subtle judgment in Hana’s eyes each time he knocked a pebble loose or turned too fast. But he improved quickly. Adaptation was part of survival, and if nothing else, Caelum was very good at surviving.
The day of departure loomed close. They’d be going on foot—traveling light, fast, and quiet. It would be a brutal pace for most, but Caelum wasn’t worried. He’d once sprinted halfway across a continent keeping pace with Akhenna’s champion when she was in her wolf form, carving paths through wilderness that should’ve broken him. Compared to that, a few days of long-distance jogging with elite assassins was practically a vacation.
“Has everyone got their supplies?” Derk’s sharp voice cut through the din of final preparations.
Ten heads turned and nodded in confirmation. Wren was finishing the last strap on her satchel. Sunder hoisted a pack the size of a child. Brannet checked the blades hidden in his boots. Aloshia was gently wrapping vials of poison in a thick cloth pouch, her movements practiced and calm. Vekar stood near the edge of the group, silent as usual, watching everything.
From beside him, the massive frame of Sunder stepped forward and approached Caelum.
“You didn’t get tired during training,” the big lekine rumbled, his voice deep and almost lazy in cadence.
“Not really,” Caelum said with a shrug.
Sunder stared at him a moment longer. With the scar-carved patterns across his pale grey-white fur and the imposing bulk of muscle, he looked like something out of a war-torn myth. His long, narrow snout twitched once.
“Okay.” Then he turned and walked back to his pack, leaving Caelum blinking in confusion.
“…Is that good?” Caelum muttered under his breath.
Aloshia strolled up next, a small grin curling her lips. She had a lean, graceful build—like a blade in motion—and eyes that always seemed like they were calculating angles and escape routes, even in casual conversation.
“Don’t worry,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear with a gloved hand. “That was high praise. Sunder doesn’t talk much unless it’s worth saying.”
“Oh,” Caelum said, still mildly baffled. “Right. Good, then.”
She smirked wider. “You're not what I expected from someone with the
stink of Aegis
on him.”
Caelum tensed slightly, but there was no venom in her tone—just curiosity.
“I’m not what I expected either,” he replied.
Her laugh was light but short. “Good answer.”
Derk’s voice rose again. “We leave in ten. Once we pass the outer wards, we don’t speak unless necessary. You all know your formations. Caelum, you’ll be with me. Stay close and follow my signals.”
Caelum nodded sharply. The mood shifted as everyone double-checked gear, strapped weapons tighter, and the air thickened with the weight of what was ahead. Eight hundred soldiers. Supply lines. Commanders to remove. And a message to send.
He glanced once more at the crew around him. These weren’t soldiers. They were something far more dangerous.
And he was one of them now.

.
!
Chapter 240 – The New Crew