When we returned to the forest, the snow on the branches was already melting under the warm glow of the runes.

  The Elder was waiting for us at the entrance, holding an owl with dark eyes on his arm.

  — A letter, — he said. — From your people.

  The owl stepped forward, and the Elder removed a tiny scroll from its leg.

  Norris unfolded the letter.

  Read it.

  Exhaled:

  — They will arrive tomorrow night.

  No one said a word — we all understood what that meant:

  the army would not march for weeks through a deadly blizzard.

  They would bypass the dangers, shorten the route…

  and arrive under the protection of the forest at the very last moment.

  Norris looked at the Elder:

  — Do you… maintain contact with the White Wolf Clan and the Black Bear Clan?

  The Elder nodded, and something like respect flickered in his eyes:

  — Yes.

  And I understand what you want.

  I will send Faelin immediately.

  The next morning the owl returned.

  On its leg — a new note.

  The Elder unfolded it and smiled:

  — They agree.

  — The White Wolf Clan will arrive this evening.

  — The Black Bear Clan will meet you on the battlefield.

  Finn clapped his hands joyfully:

  — Excellent! More allies!

  But Haras frowned:

  — Bears…

  They always arrive late.

  The Elder snorted quietly:

  — That is their style. They believe brute force solves everything.

  But you are fortunate they agreed at all.

  By the evening of the next day, the forest began to tremble.

  Not from wind — from footsteps.

  Thousands.

  When we stepped out to the forest edge, I saw for the first time what eight human legions united into a single flow looked like.

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  It was not an army — it was a river of steel:

  banners standing like walls,

  thousands of spearmen,

  heavy knights,

  archers,

  support mages.

  But remembering what I had seen in Dordwood…

  I understood: it was not enough. Far from enough.

  Especially in terms of magic.

  There were no high-tier barrier masters, no powerful elementalists.

  Only seven hundred mages — and almost all of them of average or low strength.

  Too few for a demon army preparing for war with magic.

  The forest filled with people. The elves stood on elevated ground.

  When the first four legions approached, they knelt before the Elders.

  — We will not violate your laws, — their commander said. —

  And we thank you for shelter and aid.

  The elves nodded silently.

  And the humans began setting up tents — dozens, hundreds.

  Norris handed his report to the commander-in-chief.

  He read it for a long time, his face growing heavier and darker.

  — This battle decides everything, — he said, barely controlling his breath.

  — If we endure…

  humanity will stand as one formation.

  If we fall…

  everyone will flee to their own villages, and the demons will tear the world apart.

  When the sun touched the horizon, the forest stirred.

  And they came.

  Nine hundred beastfolk.

  Wolves.

  Of average height — around 1.8 meters,

  but from each of them emanated cold, like an ice storm.

  Light hair, white-gray fur, eyes blue like a northern lake frozen solid.

  They marched in a single formation, without sound, without jostling.

  They looked not like barbarians, as villages described them,

  but like warriors born for winter.

  When the White Wolf Clan entered the forest, silence hung between the ancient trees — not tense, but deep, saturated with something old and meaningful.

  The elves watched the wolves intently, without fear.

  The wolves watched just as closely, without challenge.

  And in that pause was a sense of an ancient bond.

  Not friendship. Not alliance.

  But respect.

  The elven elders inclined their heads slightly.

  The wolf chieftain returned the gesture — brief, but sincere.

  There were no words.

  But everyone felt it:

  These two peoples do not merely live beside the North.

  They know each other’s strength.

  Neither considers themselves superior.

  Neither bows out of fear.

  They are different — but equal.

  Even the snow seemed to fall more softly, acknowledging their ancient, unspoken pact.

  Their chieftain approached Norris and spoke in a low, deep voice:

  — We have discussed everything.

  We understand your strategy.

  We will enter the battle according to your plan.

  He gestured to his warriors:

  — Our ice walls will protect humans from demon long-range mages.

  — We will hold the front where humans cannot endure.

  — We will give our lives, if necessary.

  Norris bowed slightly — for him, that was a great deal:

  — Thank you.

  The chieftain added:

  — The Black Bear Clan… as always, will arrive when they decide to.

  But their presence always changes the balance.

  Finn whispered:

  — Are they… scary?

  Haras snorted:

  — Massive. Rough. And they believe the ground is the answer to any question.

  But in battle — indispensable.

  The Elder handed over a list:

  — The diversion will be carried out by our best scouts.

  Their task is to eliminate the demons’ long-range mages,

  disrupt their units,

  weaken their formations,

  and most importantly — give your army a chance.

  The human commander exhaled so deeply that mist rose before his face:

  — Thank you.

  You are saving the lives of thousands.

  — Humans have never been this united before. This battle will decide whether you scatter or not.

  But the wolf chieftain said firmly:

  — Tomorrow everything will be decided.

  Tomorrow — either the North stands…

  or it falls forever.

  And those words passed through our squad with a chill stronger than the entire northern wind.