The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 108 - When the Forest Trembles

General Mekonnen of Abyssinia leaned over the table in his small command tent, fingers tracing the creased surface of an old map. Lantern light flickered over the sprawl of inked terrain lines, charcoal Xs, and red arrows. The murmuring forest beyond buzzed with the low hum of preparation—swords scraped against whetstones, rifles checked and rechecked, quiet words passed like secrets.

His battalion of a thousand had camped in the clearing for two nights. Veterans of endless conflict, these soldiers were no strangers to war—but this felt different. Sharper. Heavier. As if something great and terrible stirred just beyond the trees.

His lieutenants stood close, weapons at their hips, eyes darting between the map and each other. The air in the tent was tense, but not frantic. Calculated. Focused.

"We’re nearing the Adal encampment," said Lieutenant Fasil, a stocky man with soot-smudged cheeks. "They likely have fortified positions. We should make our final plans now."

"We’ll send scouts—our best riders," Mekonnen replied, not looking up. "They need to find the camp’s layout, guard rotation, terrain weaknesses. And the prisoners—we save them first."

"We should have a separate rescue unit. That way our own soldiers won’t be distracted trying to save them," added Lieutenant Hana, ever pragmatic.

"That is a great idea," Mekonnen confirmed. "We’ll assign fifty men—fast, coordinated. They’ll breach the holding areas and extract the captives. The main force will keep the enemy engaged."

"We should also set up a medic station by the forest’s edge," Hana added. "Just beyond the ridge, hidden in the brush. If we extract fast, they’ll be treated without delay."

Lieutenant Eyob, the youngest among them, cleared his throat. "Sir, if I may... do we know what’s happening at the coast?"

Heads turned.

"My father—Commander Lemma—he was recalled two weeks ago. Said he was headed to Asaab... something about training a new navy under the Emperor’s orders."

A pause.

"He was there when we lost Massawa and Zeila," Eyob continued. "Barely made it out. Now he’s back there... but I haven’t heard from him since. Our family has lost too much in this war. My father came back a broken man. I don’t want to see that again."

A hush fell.

"Is it true?" someone whispered. "Is the navy really coming back?"

Fasil shook his head. "No word from the coast. No official dispatches. But I’ve seen it too. Old sailors heading east. Men and women with sea-weathered skin. Something’s moving out there."

"Some say the Emperor has a new ally," Eyob said quietly.

Hana scoffed. "That’s highly unlikely. All our former allies turned their backs the moment Adal set its sights on us. Don’t hold your breath."

"I heard they were ghost warriors. The souls of those we’ve lost in the war," muttered another officer.

"Enough," Mekonnen said firmly, raising a hand. "Whatever truth there is, let it stay with the coast. We have our own storm to face. When an animal is backed into a corner, it doesn’t plead. It bares its fangs."

A murmur of agreement passed.

"But remember this," Mekonnen added, voice lower now, more solemn. "This isn’t just about pride. It’s about the souls chained in that camp. We do this for them."

He reached under the table, drawing out a small, carved wooden object—an eagle talon wrapped in a strip of red cloth.

"My grandfather gave me this. Before his last battle against the Adal raiders. It’s been passed through fire, blood, and sacrifice. I offer it to the rescue commander tonight. Let it bless his path."

He held it out, and Lieutenant Hana accepted it with bowed head.

"May our ancestors walk with us," Hana said quietly.

That evening, the forest whispered as three scouts—Selam, Birhanu, and Getu—slipped into the trees, orders clear:

Stay hidden. Don’t get close. Watch. Count their numbers. Mark their weaknesses. Then vanish.

By the next night, the soldiers stood at the edge of the forest, the last tree line separating them from their target. Torches flickered, casting tall, wraithlike shadows across their faces. Mekonnen stood on a raised stump, the hush before his words almost reverent.

"We have marched through mountain and fire," he began. "Now our battle lies just beyond this green wall. You may not all return. But if you fall—fall with fire in your fists."

Murmurs of grim determination.

"They’ve taken our mothers. Our children. Our futures. Let tonight be the night we take them back."

A low thunder of approval rolled through the battalion.

Among the soldiers, conversations broke into pockets of tension, hope, and superstition.

"They say there’s a group of warriors who wear black cloaks," whispered one.

"And they move like smoke," said another. "Strike like lightning."

"Shadows?" asked a nervous recruit. "I heard they rescued a village last month. My cousin swore she saw a woman carrying two Adal heads."

"Women with swords?" the recruit blinked. "We’re in strange times."

"Maybe the Emperor is building an army of ghosts," said an older man with a scar running across his temple. "Or maybe our pain’s finally summoned something worse than war."

Another muttered, "Or maybe the sea spirits returned from the depths. My grandmother used to say vengeance rises from saltwater."

Some laughed. Others muttered prayers.

"But it’s strange, right?" Eyob said to the group around him. "All those former navy men heading east... all the secrecy... what if this is bigger than us?"

"My sister was saved by those men and women in cloaks," said a quiet voice. "She said they moved with discipline. Their aura was enough to crush a man. They didn’t speak our language, but they understood her perfectly."

A silence settled. frёeωebɳovel.com

Then Mekonnen’s voice cut through the night again.

"Remember—this fight isn’t only about vengeance. It’s about return. It’s about light in dark places. About bringing our people home. So don’t slack. Don’t break. Burn the Adal camp to the ground—and walk our people back through that forest alive."

The forest roared with voices, fists raised, boots pounding earth. War chants rose. Old tribal songs were sung in half-harmonies. One soldier tied a strip of red cloth to his blade and whispered the name of his missing sister.

And somewhere, in the deep dark beyond the torches, a shadow moved silently between the trees, unseen.

Watching.

Waiting.