Chapter 88: Who They Were

Yegard arrived at the ambush site with fierce, desperate speed, old military instinct overriding every other consideration as he surveyed the chaotic battle already underway, Reven fighting with visible, strained effort against considerably more opponents than any routine Council escort should have encountered.

“Status,” Yegard demanded, already moving to engage the nearest hostile, his own blade cutting through the attacker’s defense with brutal, efficient precision.

“Considerably better equipped than typical opportunistic threats,” Reven reported through gritted teeth, deflecting another strike despite his obvious, mounting exhaustion. “Military-grade equipment, coordinated tactics. This isn’t random.”

Yegard fought alongside him with fierce, focused determination, old rivalry entirely forgotten in the face of their shared, desperate purpose, and gradually, methodically, they began turning the tide of the engagement, additional Imperial forces finally arriving to properly overwhelm the remaining hostiles.

The battle’s end came with considerably less drama than its beginning, the last few attackers either neutralized or fleeing once the engagement’s balance shifted decisively against them, and Reven sagged slightly once the immediate danger passed, old exhaustion finally catching up with him properly.

“Are you hurt,” Yegard asked immediately, old concern overriding his earlier battle focus.

“Nothing serious,” Reven confirmed, though a visible gash along his forearm suggested otherwise. “Ren, is he—”

“Feeling everything you were feeling, through the bond,” Yegard said grimly. “Alouis has him secured in the medical wing. We need to get back immediately.”

They secured one of the captured attackers for interrogation before departing, and the journey back toward the palace carried considerable, anxious urgency, both men desperate to properly confirm Ren’s condition following the bond’s violent, unprecedented intrusion.

They found him in the medical wing exactly as promised, pale but stable, Vance monitoring his condition with careful, focused attention while Alouis remained close beside him, offering what comfort she could.

“Reven,” Ren said immediately upon their arrival, relief flooding his exhausted features as he struggled to sit up properly. “You’re hurt.”

“Nothing serious,” Reven confirmed, crossing quickly to settle beside him, careful concern evident despite his own obvious exhaustion. “How are you? The babies?”

“We’re fine,” Ren said, though something strained remained in his voice. “Vance confirmed the pregnancy wasn’t harmed by the shared pain, but she wants to properly understand the bond’s full implications before we face anything like that again.”

Vance stepped forward, something careful in her clinical assessment. “The bond appears to transmit both emotional and physical sensation with remarkable fidelity,” she explained. “Which means any significant injury either of you sustains going forward will likely be felt, in some capacity, by both the other and by Ren directly, regardless of his own physical distance from the actual danger.”

“That’s considerably more dangerous than either of us anticipated,” Yegard said grimly, understanding the full implication immediately. “If Ren experiences genuine physical harm through that bond, particularly given his current pregnancy—”

“Precisely my concern,” Vance confirmed. “I’d strongly recommend both of you exercise considerably more caution going forward, particularly regarding direct combat situations, until we better understand how to properly manage or mitigate this connection.”

Ren felt old frustration mingle with genuine fear at the implication. “That’s not entirely practical,” he said carefully, “given both your positions and responsibilities.”

“We’ll figure out proper protocols,” Reven said firmly, though something troubled remained in his own expression. “For now, understanding who actually attacked us feels considerably more urgent.”

The captured attacker, once properly secured and interrogated, revealed considerably more than Ren had anticipated, though the information itself carried fresh, unsettling implications.

“They call themselves the Remnant,” the intelligence officer reported during the subsequent briefing, pulling up what limited information the interrogation had yielded. “A faction we haven’t previously encountered, though the equipment and training suggests considerable resources and military expertise.”

“What do they actually want,” Ren asked, old wariness resurfacing despite his exhaustion.

“The attacker claimed their primary goal involves ‘correcting an imbalance,'” the officer said, something careful in her delivery. “Beyond that, he either didn’t know or wouldn’t say anything more specific.”

“Correcting an imbalance,” Reven repeated slowly, something troubled crossing his expression. “That’s considerably vague, though it could potentially connect to your own unique classification, Ren. If they view your existence, or your current pregnancy, as some kind of disruption to natural order.”

Ren felt cold unease settle into his chest at the implication. “You think they’re targeting me specifically, because of what I am.”

“It’s possible,” Reven admitted. “Though without more concrete information, we can’t properly confirm their actual motivation or goals.”

Yegard’s expression had hardened into something fierce and protective throughout the briefing. “Whatever their actual motivation,” he said firmly, “we need to treat this as a serious, ongoing threat, particularly given your current vulnerability.”

Ren nodded slowly, old fear tangling with fresh, protective determination. “Then we prepare properly,” he said. “Whatever this Remnant faction actually wants, whatever threat they genuinely pose, I’m not simply waiting anxiously for them to strike again without understanding what we’re actually facing.”

They spent the following days gathering what additional intelligence they could, careful investigation revealing the Remnant’s apparent connection to various fringe ideological groups who viewed classifications like Ren’s unprecedented dual nature as dangerous aberrations requiring elimination rather than acceptance.

Milo, watching the mounting tension with his usual perceptive attention, approached Ren one evening with careful, serious consideration. “I want to help,” he said simply. “With whatever training I need, to actually be useful if something like this happens again.”

Ren studied him carefully, old protective instinct warring against genuine respect for the boy’s evident determination. “Training takes considerable time and discipline,” he said carefully. “Are you certain you’re ready for that commitment?”

“I’m certain I don’t want to just watch you and Finn be in danger while I can’t do anything about it,” Milo said firmly, something fierce and determined in his young voice. “I already have this ability. I want to actually understand it properly, be able to use it well enough to actually help protect this family.”

Ren felt something proud and bittersweet settle into his chest at the boy’s fierce, protective determination, old memory of his own reluctant acceptance of similar responsibility resurfacing with fresh clarity. “Then we’ll start your proper training,” he said finally, something warm and supportive in his tone despite his lingering worry. “Properly, carefully, at whatever pace actually serves you best.”

Milo’s expression lit with genuine, determined satisfaction at that confirmation, and Ren found himself, despite the mounting tension of this fresh, unprecedented threat, genuinely grateful for the fierce, protective family he’d built around himself, each of them determined, in their own way, to face whatever danger still waited ahead together.