Chapter 2 A Child Of Two Worlds

• They called him Shade because no one ever saw him coming.
• He moved like wind through the sleeping war camp — silent, invisible. Soldiers huddled around oil-drum fires didn’t notice the young man watching them from the shadows. His once soft youthful face was now carved in stone — cheekbones sharpened by hunger, eyes dulled by violence. But beneath the armor, underneath the grit and the calloused hands, Eron Rane still existed — Buried by suffering, But not gone.
• Shade knelt near a stack of fuel canisters, his fingers tightening a coil of det cord. He could rig this entire camp to burn in five minutes flat. Years of insurgency training had turned him into a ghost, but the irony wasn’t lost on him — Kael Drog had forged his deadliest weapon from the very bloodline he destroyed.
• And Shade had played the part. For years, he learned their tactics. Their ideology. Their hatred. He became the loyal phantom they could trust with sabotage missions, deep recon, field executions. All the while, he listened. He learned. He endured, patiently waiting for the right moment.
• But since the skirmish two nights ago, since he found that locket on the dead courier — everything had changed. His mother had survived. For a time, at least. And if there was even the faintest chance she still lived, he’d burn Drog’s entire empire to the ground to find her.
• "Shade," a voice called behind him.
• He straightened, turning to face Colonel Sava: the only man in this place who saw him as something more than a weapon.
• Sava was closing sixty but still stood like a soldier. His back straight, uniform clean, eyes that missed nothing. His beard was neat, white, and his presence carried the quiet gravity of command. "You’re supposed to be on rest detail," Sava said, not unkindly. "Scouts said you haven’t slept since the outpost ambush."
• Shade shrugged. “Sleep’s a luxury. I don’t trust it."
• Sava stepped closer. "I know what you found."
• Shade blinked. "How?"
• "I taught you to read patterns, didn’t I? You’re off. You move differently whenever something haunts you."
• A pause lingered between them. The fires behind flickered like dying stars.
• "I think my mother was alive," Shade said at last. "I found her locket. One I haven’t seen since the night the Rane estate fell."
• Sava didn’t react with surprise. Instead, he let out a tired breath.
• "There are things I’ve kept from you," he said quietly. "Things Drog didn’t want you to know at all."
• Shade stiffened. "Like what?" Attentive now.
• "She was taken alive," Sava said. "Years ago, when the compound fell. Drog had her sent to a detainment block outside the Andrel ruins — one of the old regime prisons. But not for long. There was a prisoner transfer. After that, everythjng goes cold."
• "Why didn’t you tell me?" Shade asked, voice sharp.
• "Because if Drog knew you still carried loyalty to your blood, he would have had you executed. You survived by becoming one of us."
• "I never became one of you," Shade hissed. "I survived because I had no choice."
• Sava met his eyes evenly. "And now you do?"
• Shade said nothing.
• That night, the alarm blared through the camp—sharp, urgent. A recon team had gone silent along the western ridge. Shade and Sava were dispatched immediately.
• They traveled light — four men, two bikes, and enough C4 to collapse a tunnel. The terrain was hell: scorched earth, pitted roads, forests ruined by artillery fire. They found the recon team’s last signal near an abandoned commuter station. It looks like a hollow skeleton of steel and shattered glass.
• Something wasn’t right... Too quiet.
• They swept the station room by room, rifles raised. Blood smears painted the walls, but no bodies. Empty crates. It was a trap.
• The first shot hit Lieutenant Moren in the chest. He dropped without a sound. The second tore through Laro’s thigh. He screamed, going down hard.
• Gunfire erupted from the upper balconies. Shade looks, and noticed federal forces in black armor, using thermal sights and coordinated flanks. Shade dove behind a broken kiosk (a small enclosed structure), returning fire with accurate precision. Sava barked orders, laying suppressive bursts.
• They were surrounded.
• “Extraction now!” Sava shouted into his comm, but static answered.
• Shade then saw it clearly, just for a moment — one of the enemy uniforms bore an old crest. Not federal. Not even regular army.
• Loyalist.
• The men his father once commanded. He hesitated just long enough for a flashbang to detonate near his position. [Bang!!!] Everything went white.
• When his senses returned, the station was on fire. The floor rumbled — C4 had gone off somewhere, collapsing part of the ceiling. Sava was hit — gut shot, bleeding fast. Shade crawled to him, dragging him behind a cover.
• "We’re not making it out," Sava said, coughing blood. "Listen to me, Shade. You can’t stay here. You have to disappear."
• “I’m not leaving you. Sava."
• Sava grabbed his vest, pulling him close. “You’re not Shade anymore. You’re Rane. And it’s time you remembered who you are.”
• A second later, a bullet struck Sava through the temple. Shade didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. He just picked up the colonel’s sidearm, his dog tags, and vanished into the smoke.
• Beginning the next morning, wanted posters with his face were already circulating through insurgent channels.
• “Traitor.” ... “Turncoat.” ...“Enemy to the cause.”
• The brotherhood that raised him now hunted him. The government he once fought against still branded him a terrorist. And Eron Rane no longer belonged to either world. He was alone.
• In the weeks that followed, he moved through warzones like a phantom. He stole IDs from corpses, sold valuable intelligence to black market brokers, and survived by walking the razor edge between factions. He visited what was left of Andrel: a city of ghosts and ash. His family’s estate was rubbled. The gardens his mother once tended were now a minefield. But deep in the sub-basement, beneath fallen pillars and scorched stone, he found something unexpected: a half-functional data terminal.
• Inside it? His father’s last encrypted command log. It was fragmented and corrupted, but one phrase stood out clearly.
• ~ “If this message is found—find Major Kaine. Borderlands. He’ll know what to do.”
• It was a name from old briefings. One of Aelius Rane’s most loyal officers. A man who disappeared after the coup. Shade — no, but Eron, set out toward the borderlands that night. His journey would take weeks through enemy checkpoints, collapsed highways, and hostile territories. But it didn’t matter to him.
• He was done surviving. Now he was hunting.
• In the dead of night, deep in the eastern hills, Eron reached the crumbling outpost marked on his father’s map. It looked abandoned. But as he stepped through the rusted gate, the barrel of a rifle met his forehead.
• "Give me one reason not to kill you," a grizzled voice growled from the shadows. Eron didn’t flinch.
• "My name is Eron Rane," he said. "And I’m here to finish the war my father couldn’t."
• The man stepped into view — older, having eyes like flint, scars lining his jaw.
• "I’m Major Kaine," he said. "And if you’re really who you say you are… then this just became a lot more complicated."