The interrogation room—if one could dignify it with such a formal name—was little more than a storage shed hastily repurposed after the explosion. Captain Alastair Reid sat across from Gareth ap Llewellyn, studying the knight's impassive face in the flickering light of a military-issue lantern. Outside, Forward Base Avalon buzzed with frantic activity as soldiers secured the perimeter and assessed the damage from the sabotage.
"Let's try this again," Reid said, his voice deceptively calm. "Where were you when the armory exploded?"
Gareth leaned back, his silver-white hair catching the lantern light. "As I've told you three times now, Captain, I was with Dr. Whitaker examining ley-line patterns near the eastern wall. A fact she has undoubtedly confirmed."
"She has," Reid admitted. "Which is convenient for you."
"Ah, yes. I orchestrated an explosion, but made certain to have an alibi with your most trusted advisor." Gareth's lips curved in a sardonic smile. "Quite the mastermind I must be."
Reid fought the urge to reach across the table and wipe that smug expression off the knight's face. Instead, he laid out several fragments of metal recovered from the blast site.
"Recognize these?"
Gareth examined them without touching. "Fragments of a detonator, I presume. Crude but effective. Not Aeltherian in design."
"No," Reid agreed. "Very much human-made. Standard military issue."
"Which rather undermines your theory of my involvement, doesn't it?" Gareth raised an eyebrow. "Unless you believe I've mastered Earth weaponry in the brief time since we met."
Reid hated to admit it, but the knight had a point. The explosion had the hallmarks of human military training—precise placement for maximum damage with minimal casualties. A warning rather than an assassination attempt.
"Someone wants to destabilize Avalon," Reid said, more to himself than to Gareth.
"Or perhaps they wish to destabilize your leadership specifically," Gareth suggested. "Have you considered that not everyone in your command agrees with your... diplomatic approach to Aeltheria?"
Before Reid could respond, Lance Corporal Singh entered the shed, her normally immaculate uniform smudged with soot. She nodded respectfully to Gareth before addressing Reid.
"Sir, I've completed the preliminary analysis of the explosive residue." She placed a tablet on the table between them. "It's C-4, military grade. And there's something else—the detonator components match our own supplies."
Reid's jaw tightened. "You're saying it came from our armory?"
"Yes, sir. And the trigger mechanism required specialized knowledge. This wasn't some random act—whoever did this knows our protocols."
"An inside job," Reid concluded grimly.
Gareth watched the exchange with interest. "It seems your enemies may be closer than you thought, Captain."
Reid shot him a warning look before turning back to Singh. "Any suspects?"
"Not yet, sir. But I've begun interviewing everyone with access to the armory. Permission to expand the investigation?"
"Granted. And Singh—keep this quiet. If we have a traitor, I don't want them knowing we're onto them."
After Singh departed, Reid turned back to Gareth, who was studying him with those unnervingly bright eyes.
"It seems I owe you an apology," Reid said stiffly.
"Not at all," Gareth replied. "In your position, I would have suspected me as well. Trust is a luxury in wartime, Captain. One I haven't earned yet."
Reid stood, signaling the end of the interrogation. "You're free to go. But stay where I can see you."
"Always," Gareth said with a slight bow before exiting the shed.
Alone, Reid rubbed his temples, feeling the familiar throb of a stress headache building. The pain in his shoulder—a souvenir from Syria—had been acting up since the explosion, and he found himself craving the pills he'd been trying to wean himself off. Just one would take the edge off...
He shook his head sharply. Not now. Not when someone was actively trying to undermine everything they'd built here.
Outside, Avalon was bathed in the ethereal blue glow of the ley-lines as twilight descended. Reid made his way to the makeshift research center where Dr. Eleanor Whitaker had established her headquarters. The building, once an elven meeting hall, was now cluttered with equipment, books, and artifacts arranged in what Reid assumed was some sort of organizational system comprehensible only to Whitaker herself.
He found her hunched over an ancient text, muttering to herself as she compared symbols to those etched into a piece of stone.
"Doctor," he said, announcing his presence.
Whitaker looked up, blinking owlishly behind her glasses. "Captain! Perfect timing. You need to see this."
Before Reid could explain why he'd come, she launched into an enthusiastic explanation, pointing to various symbols in the text.
"These ruins near Avalon? They're not just random settlements. They were built specifically to harness and channel ley-line energy. Like a prehistoric power grid, but for magic instead of electricity."
Reid tried to focus on her words, but his mind kept circling back to the sabotage. "That's fascinating, Doctor, but—"
"No, you don't understand," Whitaker interrupted, her eyes bright with discovery. "The texts describe ley-lines as rivers of power flowing through both worlds—Earth and Aeltheria. They're connected, Captain. They've always been connected, even before the Gate appeared."
That caught Reid's attention. "What do you mean, connected?"
Whitaker gestured to a crude map etched into stone. "Look at this. It shows ley-line patterns across both realms. They mirror each other, like... like two sides of the same coin. And according to these texts, they can be sources of both creation and destruction."
"Destruction how, exactly?" Reid asked, a sense of foreboding settling in his gut.
"The texts mention something called 'the Sundering'—a catastrophic event where ley-lines were severed between worlds, causing massive disruptions in both realms. Earthquakes, storms, entire cities swallowed by the earth." She looked up at him, her expression grave. "Captain, I think our technology—our weapons, our communications, everything we've brought through the Gate—is interfering with these ley-lines."
"Are you saying we could trigger another Sundering?"
"I'm saying it's a possibility we can't ignore. Earth's technology wasn't designed to interact with magical energy fields. It's like... like plugging a hairdryer into a nuclear reactor. The potential for catastrophic failure is enormous."
Reid absorbed this information, adding it to the growing list of problems demanding his attention. "Keep researching this, Doctor. I need to know exactly what we're dealing with and how to prevent it."
"There's more," Whitaker said, her voice dropping. "These texts mention The Weaver—the entity Gareth warned us about. It's described as a being that exists between worlds, feeding on the energy of ley-lines. The druids believed it was responsible for corrupting magic and turning it against the living."
"And Seraphine is trying to harness this corruption," Reid concluded.
"Exactly. But there's something else—a weapon mentioned repeatedly in these texts. Something called 'the Forgotten Flame,' said to be capable of cleansing corrupted ley-lines."
"Any idea where we might find this weapon?"
Whitaker shook her head. "Not yet. But I'm close to translating the section that might tell us."
Reid nodded, making a mental note to allocate more resources to Whitaker's research. "Good work, Doctor. Keep at it."
As he turned to leave, Whitaker called after him. "Captain? About the explosion... Gareth was with me when it happened. He couldn't have been involved."
"I know," Reid said. "Which means we have another problem entirely."
He found Williams overseeing repairs to the damaged armory, directing soldiers with the efficient precision that had made him Reid's right hand since Afghanistan.
"How bad?" Reid asked without preamble.
"Could've been worse," Williams replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "We lost about twenty percent of our ammunition stores and some of the heavier weapons. No casualties, thankfully. Whoever did this knew exactly where to place the charges for maximum damage without bringing down the whole structure."
"Someone with military training," Reid said grimly.
"One of ours," Williams agreed, his expression darkening. "Any suspects?"
"Singh's investigating. I want you to prepare a reconnaissance team. We need to get eyes on Seraphine's territory, see what she's planning next."
Williams nodded. "Who are you taking?"
"You'll stay here, secure the base. I'll take Gareth—"
"Sir, with all due respect, are you sure that's wise? After what just happened?"
"It wasn't him," Reid said firmly. "And we need his knowledge of the terrain. I'll also take Whitaker—she needs to see these ley-lines up close—and a small security detail. No more than six total."
Williams looked like he wanted to argue but nodded instead. "I'll have them ready by dawn."
As twilight deepened into night, Reid made his way to the medical tent where Singh had established her secondary headquarters. The lance corporal was examining a sample under a microscope, her brow furrowed in concentration.
"Any progress?" Reid asked.
Singh straightened, rubbing her eyes. "Some, sir. I've narrowed down the list of suspects to personnel with explosives training and armory access. That still leaves us with twelve possibilities."
"That's a start. What else?"
"The timing of the explosion is interesting. It occurred precisely when our elven guests were being introduced to the base. Almost as if someone wanted to create panic specifically among them."
Reid considered this. "Someone who doesn't want us cooperating with the locals."
"Exactly, sir. And there's something else." Singh hesitated. "I found traces of a specific explosive compound that's not standard issue. It's used primarily by special forces for underwater demolitions."
"SAS," Reid said, his mind racing. "That narrows it down further."
"To three individuals, sir. Yourself included."
Reid's eyebrows shot up. "I'm a suspect?"
"Protocol, sir," Singh said apologetically. "Everyone with the knowledge and access is on the list."
"Fair enough. Who are the other two?"
"Lieutenant Morris and Corporal Hargrove."
Reid nodded. Morris was a solid officer with an impeccable record. Hargrove, on the other hand, had been vocal about his distrust of the "pointy-eared freaks," as he called the elven refugees.
"Focus on Hargrove," Reid instructed. "But be discreet. If he is our saboteur, I want concrete evidence before we move against him."
"Yes, sir. There's one more thing." Singh handed him a small evidence bag containing what appeared to be a fragment of metal. "This was embedded in the wall near the explosion. It's not from any of our equipment."
Reid examined the fragment. It bore an intricate symbol that seemed to shimmer slightly in the light. "What is it?"
"I'm not sure, sir. But Dr. Whitaker might know."
"I'll ask her. In the meantime, continue your investigation. I'm leading a recon mission at dawn, so you'll report to Williams while I'm gone."
Singh nodded. "Be careful out there, sir. If someone's trying to undermine our mission here, they might not stop at sabotage."
Reid's return to his quarters was delayed by a series of minor crises—disputes between soldiers and elven refugees, equipment malfunctions, and reports of shadowhound sightings near the perimeter. By the time he finally reached his small, spartan room, exhaustion had settled into his bones like a physical weight.
He was about to collapse onto his cot when something caught his eye—a slight disturbance in the layer of dust on the floor, leading to his footlocker. Moving silently, he drew his sidearm and approached the locker. The lock appeared untampered with, but Reid knew better than to trust appearances.
Using a pen from his pocket, he carefully lifted the lid.
Inside, nestled among his spare uniform and personal items, was a small package wrapped in cloth. A package that hadn't been there that morning.
With the pen, he carefully unwrapped it, revealing a block of C-4 explosive identical to the one used in the armory attack. Attached was a detonator, unactivated but ready for use. And beneath it, a note written in block letters:
FOR KING AND COUNTRY. SOME GATES SHOULD REMAIN CLOSED.
Reid stared at the evidence planted in his quarters, his mind racing. Someone was trying to frame him—or warn him. Either way, the message was clear: the saboteur wasn't finished, and Avalon's troubles were just beginning.
A soft knock at his door made him quickly rewrap the package.
"Enter," he called, sliding the explosive back into the footlocker.
Singh stepped in, her expression grim. "Sir, I've found something. You need to see this immediately."
She led him across the base to the barracks, moving quietly through the shadows. Outside one of the small rooms allocated to the soldiers, she paused.
"Corporal Hargrove's quarters," she whispered. "I did a sweep while he was on patrol. Look what I found."
She pushed open the door and led Reid to a loose floorboard beneath the bed. Lifting it revealed a hidden compartment containing several blocks of C-4, detonators, and a notebook filled with what appeared to be plans of Avalon's defenses, with key structures marked for demolition.
"There's more," Singh said, pointing to a small communications device unlike their standard equipment. "This isn't ours. I think he's been in contact with someone outside Avalon."
Reid examined the device. "Someone back on Earth?"
"Possibly. Or..." Singh hesitated.
"Or someone working for Seraphine," Reid finished grimly. "Either way, we have our saboteur."
As they exited Hargrove's quarters, Reid felt a cold certainty settling in his gut. The sabotage wasn't just about undermining their mission—it was about something bigger, something that threatened both Earth and Aeltheria. And somehow, he suspected that the explosives in his own footlocker were just the beginning of a much larger conspiracy.
"Have Hargrove detained quietly when he returns from patrol," Reid ordered. "No charges yet—I want to know who he's working for before we tip our hand."
Singh nodded. "And the recon mission?"
"Proceeds as planned. We need to know what Seraphine is up to, now more than ever." Reid glanced back at Hargrove's quarters. "Because I have a feeling our problems are about to get much worse."
As he walked back to his quarters under Aeltheria's twin moons, Reid couldn't shake the feeling that they were all pawns in a game whose rules they didn't understand—a game where the stakes were nothing less than the fate of two worlds.