He who brings hell

**Kael Maddox’s POV** The gates of Fort Kraven groaned opened. Rust scraped against steel, and the sunlight I hadn’t truly seen in six years stabbed into my eyes like a blade. But I didn’t flinch. Outside the prison walls, it looked like a war zone waiting to happen. Police vehicles formed a solid blockade along the outer perimeter, their sirens silenced but engines growling like a held breath. Armed officers stood shoulder-to-shoulder in riot gear, their eyes were cold and unreadable behind reflective visors. Snipers perched on nearby rooftops. A pair of choppers circled low in the sky, the rhythmic chopping of their blades reminding me of the Blackhawks we used to fly in… before everything went to hell. I took my first step out. It was then I saw it. A matte-black vehicle sat parked away from the others. No license plate. No sirens. Just a silver insignia on the door with three stars in a tight triangle. My spine straightened on instinct. The door opened. Then a man with a belly stepped outside. His hair was gray, and lines carved deep around his eyes. *General Royce Thorne*. He walked toward me with purpose. I stood straighter, jaw tight. Then I saluted. He stopped in front of me, his eyes met with mine. “Welcome back, Commander Maddox,” he said, voice low, weathered. I held the salute a heartbeat longer before letting it drop. “I failed you,” General Thorne said, eyes flickering to the ground. “Six years ago... you paid for my incompetency. If I had just listened—if I’d backed your call that night—we wouldn’t have lost all twelve men. Including—” “Let it lie, sir,” I said quickly, my voice like gravel. “The past’s buried for a reason.” He looked at me, lips pressed into a thin line. I added, quieter now, “If it wasn’t for you… the Kastovian government would’ve executed me at the border. You didn’t just save my life—you gave me a sentence I could survive.” “I fought for full immunity, Kael,” he muttered. “But the ores... the resources… this goddamn country’s veins are built on them. The politicians saw a different war. One that didn’t include saving you or the SRU.” I said nothing. “You have to understand. It was the best decision the president could make at the time. He was on edge. The economy was crashing. Velmora needed to protect its uranium corridors. The deals with NATO, the mining corporations, the peacekeeping facade... if he hadn’t pulled the plug on your mission, we risked a global incident.” I stared at him. Then spoke, quietly, tightly. “Sacrificing twelve soldiers to protect a contract. Not even the land, just the illusion that Velmora was still in control.” Six years ago… The Red Serpents were bleeding Velmora dry. We’d spent months tracking them, watching as they smuggled weapons across borders and wiped out innocent towns. Their leader, Malik Radwan, had more firepower than half the Kastovian army and three times the cruelty. The government had to create a special force specialize to deal with them, then they formed Shadow Reign Unit to dismantle them. I was made Commander. We didn’t exist on paper. Not officially. Then came that night. The op was greenlit. We had a location. A remote valley near the Kastovian border. It was perfect. As we moved in, we received the order to abort. All teams should stand down. The Government has withdrawn support. My blood ran cold. Twelve men looked to me. I told them to stay. That we’d finish the job. That Velmora wouldn’t turn its back on us. I was wrong. We were ambushed. Cut off. I watched my team fall one by one. With anger, I stormed the enemy camp alone. They say I killed 113. I don’t remember the count. I just remember the silence after it was done. That’s when Kastovia's soldiers found me. Dragged me across the border. Call it a war crime. My country, Velmora, disavowed me. Only one man dared step into that courtroom with a defense. Royce Thorne. And the best he could get me… was six years in Fort Kraven. “Kael,” he said, voice low and firm, like the battlefield commander he used to be. “I want you to come back.” My eyes narrowed. “To the Shadow Reign Unit?” He nodded. “We still need you. Malik Radwan is still alive. The leader of the Red Serpent, he’s not dead.” “Two towns were burned last week. Dorvale and Fintross. Both just across the Southern Range. The same tactics. Same insignia burned into the ruins. It’s him, Kael. He’s come back and he’s bringing hell with him.” I looked away, jaw tight. “You know what that means,” he added. “The government won’t say it aloud, but the Shadow Reign Unit is preparing for deployment. And I need my Commander back.” I didn’t speak. Thorne stepped closer, the gravel crunching under his boots. “Kael, this country needs you now more than ever.” I turned to face him, my voice low. “I’m sorry, sir… but I’m done. I gave this country everything. It took my years. My team. My brothers. I just want to live now. Quietly.” There was a pause. “I know you’re sorry,” Thorne said. He reached into his coat and pulled out a sealed envelope. “But this… this might be the one thing that’ll never let you rest.” He handed it to me. I hesitated. Then I took it from him. “That is the file on the man who sold you out. The one who fed your position to Kastovia. The one who signed your team’s death sentence.” My breath stilled. He didn’t say another word. Just stepped back. “If you ever decide to come back, the team will be waiting. Every one of them eager to follow your lead again.” He turned without waiting for my answer. Walked back to his three-star vehicle. And just like that— He was gone. The wind howled around the empty space he left behind. Malik Radwan. I looked down at the envelope in my hands. My fingers clenched. I walked away ________________________ The train hissed to a stop at the edge of the Eastern Division Terminal. I stepped down from the carriage with a duffel slung over my shoulder, boots thudding onto the platform. Outside, the morning sun filtered through a haze of fog and exhaust. Cars honked. Vendors yelled. Kids laughed in the distance. It felt strange to be back at Ashwick Lane—my hometown. It used to be nothing but narrow roads and peeling buildings. Now, tall glass-front shops and paved sidewalks stretched along the street. The old candy stand near the intersection was gone, replaced by a coffee bar. There were banners overhead promoting a summer festival. It had changed. I waved down a cab. The driver rolled the window down, I handed him a slip of paper. My old address. He nodded, unlocking the door. The drive was short. I watched the streets blur. We reached a quiet part of town—row houses with flowerbeds, mailboxes rusting at the edges, and children playing on cracked sidewalks. “This it?” the driver asked. I nodded. He quoted the fare. I handed over the last of the folded bills I had in my pocket. The last of my money. He didn’t offer change. Didn’t matter. I got out, the engine roaring away behind me as I stood there, in front of the only place that ever felt like home. Same rusted gate. Same windchime hanging over the front porch, swaying gently in the breeze like a ghost that hadn’t let go. My chest tightened. I walked toward it. As I neared the gate, a small red ball rolled across the floor. I stopped it with the tip of my boot. A boy came running after it, all legs and energy. Couldn’t have been older than five. He skidded to a halt when he saw me. “Thanks, mister!” he beamed up at me, curly brown hair falling into his eyes. I nodded. “Nice save.” He smiled wider and bent to pick up the ball. Then I heard it. A voice I hadn't heard in six years. “Liam!” She was calling from the porch. “Liam, get away from the gate!” I turned. She was there. Aria. Her face was just as I remembered. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, her hands dusted with flour, like she'd come from the kitchen in a rush. And in that moment. When our eyes locked she froze. She dropped the towel in her hands. “Aria…” I called out. She didn’t move at first. Then—suddenly—she rushed forward, grabbing the boy and pulling him to her chest in a protective grip. “Get out,” she whispered, eyes wide. “Get out of here.” “Aria, it’s me—” I started. “I know who you are!” she snapped, voice trembling. “You’re the man who disappeared and left a grave in my heart. You’re the man the news called a butcher. A traitor. A murderer!” Her words sliced through me like bayonets. “I didn’t—” I started, but the pain in her eyes silenced me. “You left me, Kael!” she shouted. “I waited! I wrote letters for two years! They said you were dead! Do you even know what that does to a wife?! To someone who loved you?” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I never stopped thinking about you. Not one day. They—Aria, they buried me alive.” She shook her head, hugging the boy tighter. Liam peeked up at her, confused. “Mama? Who is he?” Her voice cracked. “Nobody, baby. He’s nobody anymore.” I took a slow step forward. “Aria… I’m not here to hurt anyone. I just wanted to see home. See you. I didn’t even know about him…who's he?” “You don’t get to *know* him,” she hissed, retreating toward the door. “You don’t get to walk back into this house like time waited for you.” She turned her back. “Go back to whatever war you came from, Kael.” The door slammed. I stood there. Alone. With only the wind, and the rusted gate.