We Have Movement!

“We have movement!”

The watchman’s cry split the early morning air like a jagged blade. His voice, raw with urgency, carried over the camp as he slammed the warning bell, its metallic clang slicing through the uneasy quiet. Panic rippled outward, a shiver of terror that shook even the steadiest hearts. The moment they had dreaded was upon them. The end had begun.

It had been years—perhaps decades—since the Oracle’s death. The memory of her final, gasping prophecy lingered like a curse over the twenty-seven men stranded in this strange and hostile land. She had been more than a leader or a guide; she was the last woman any of them had seen, their prophet and protector. Her visions had been their anchor in a world of chaos.

But on that final day, as she convulsed in the throes of a vision, fate utilized her to orate its most ominous decree:

“From the gate... cometh death.”

The gate. The great, towering monolith that loomed at the forest's edge, always watching, always waiting. None of them could explain its existence—or their own. They remembered nothing of their lives before waking here, strangers bound by amnesia and a will to survive. Logic suggested they had entered this realm through the gate, though no one dared to confirm it. All they had was each other and the Oracle’s cryptic prophecies, fragments of foresight that offered grim clues to their precarious existence.

Each year, they gathered at the edge of the forest on the anniversary of her death, marking the day with solemn rituals meant to ward off the doom she foretold. But this year’s ritual was supposed to begin hours later—a grim coincidence that now felt like fate’s cruel hand.

And now, the prophecy was coming to pass.

“We have movement!” The refrain echoed again, urgent and raw, pulling Daniel from his uneasy dreams. Around him, the camp sprang to life, men shouting, grabbing makeshift weapons, and rushing toward the source of the alarm.

Daniel's heart pounded in his chest. For years, they had prepared for this moment, sharpening their minds and bodies against the inevitable. They had kept round-the-clock watch, constantly training for an enemy they could only imagine. But training could only prepare you so much. As the icy grip of fear seized him, he realized the truth: no one was ready for what lay beyond that gate.

“Daniel!” Lee’s voice cut through his rising panic. “The gun!”

***

The last of the men took their positions, their faces grim, their movements mechanical. A suffocating quiet settled over the camp, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves stirred by the morning wind.

Daniel climbed the creaking ladder to the highest watch post, Lee following close behind. The rifle felt heavier than usual as Daniel slung it over his shoulder. When he reached the top, he fumbled with the ammunition, his trembling hands betraying his calm exterior. Each metallic click of the loading mechanism echoed unnaturally loud in the silence. Around him, every sound sharpened into hyper-focus: the creak of the ladder, the faint crackle of a torch, the rhythmic thudding of his own heart. Whatever was coming, it wasn’t a prophecy anymore. It was real. It was here.

“Where?” Lee hissed, his voice tense. The watchman pointed toward the dense forest beyond the gate. “I saw something behind that tree!”

Daniel exhaled slowly, forcing himself to take measured breaths, but the effort was futile. His chest tightened with every second that passed. Suddenly, the ladder rattled behind them, and Marcus appeared, climbing up in a rush.

“Daniel!” Marcus barked, his voice loud and cutting against the tension. “Don’t screw this up. You know what the Oracle said—death, pain, suffering. Whatever’s out there, you kill it! Do you hear me?”

“Back off!” Lee snapped, his words dripping with irritation. “He knows what’s at stake. Stop yelling in his ear!”

The two men squared off, their voices escalating into a heated exchange. Their anger crackled like a live wire, and Daniel felt the weight of it pressing against him. He couldn’t take it anymore.

With a sharp click, he cocked the rifle, silencing both of them. “Enough,” he said, his voice low but commanding. In one fluid motion, he raised the weapon, bracing it against his shoulder. The cold metal steadied him as he stared into the scope. His breathing slowed, each inhale and exhale deliberate, measured.

“What do you see?” a deep, steady voice asked from below. Daniel didn’t need to look; he recognized it instantly. Sayed, the village elder, had climbed halfway up the ladder, his piercing eyes locked on Daniel.

“Nothing yet,” Daniel replied, his voice tight.

“It’s probably just another deer,” the elder said softly, his tone reassuring. “You’ve handled worse before. You can handle this too.”

The words should have comforted him, but they didn’t. Something felt different this time—wrong, even. The gate had never looked so luminous before. He couldn’t shake the feeling crawling up his spine like icy fingers.

“It moved again!” the watchman cried out, his voice a strained whisper of panic.

Daniel froze, his entire body stiffened. He adjusted his aim, his finger brushing the trigger. For a moment, the world narrowed to just him and the rifle sight. He saw the trees swaying gently in the wind, the shadowy outline of the gate standing tall against the morning sky, and then… 

“We. Have. Movement,” he spoke in a low tone and a wave of tension washed over the men.

A dark shape emerged from the edge of the forest. At first, it was just a flicker of motion, but then it stepped fully into view. Daniel’s breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a deer. 

***

All eyes were on Daniel, the weight of twenty-six lives pressing down on him. His rifle was steady, but his resolve wavered.

“What is it?” Lee’s voice was tight, barely more than a whisper.

“Who gives a damn?” Marcus growled, his frustration bubbling into anger. “Kill it!”

Daniel hesitated. His finger hovered over the trigger, his mind racing. A single pull, and it would be over. But something deep inside him resisted. He felt the crushing burden of doubt—a sharp tug-of-war between duty and something far more human.

“Is everything okay?” Lee asked again, his voice softer, edged with concern.

“For God’s sake, Daniel!” Marcus bellowed, his voice cutting through the stress.

Daniel swallowed hard and called out, “Sayed, you need to see this.”

The village elder paused on the ladder, his expression unreadable as he climbed the final rungs. Marcus, his fear manifesting as fury, jabbed a finger toward Daniel. “You’re putting all of us at risk. Don’t be a fool—kill it before it’s too late!”

Ignoring Marcus, Daniel stepped aside, allowing Sayed to take his place. The old man adjusted the rifle’s scope with practiced hands, his face darkening as he peered through it. He drew back and locked eyes with Daniel. No words passed between them, just a shared moment of unease that spoke louder than any outburst.

“What is it?” Lee demanded again, his voice trembling now.

“I’ll do it myself!” Marcus barked. His bravado carried him forward as he snatched the rifle from Sayed’s grasp. He fumbled with the weapon but quickly found his bearings. A man driven by fear and righteousness, Marcus raised the rifle, his gaze fixed down the sight.

And then he froze.

“It’s a... little girl,” Daniel murmured.

The revelation hung in the air like a dagger poised to fall. From the shadows of the trees, a child emerged, no older than eight or nine. Her small frame was shrouded in the dim light of dawn, her face pale with fear. She looked as though she had been crying. She took cautious steps, her hands trembling as she clutched the fabric of her tattered dress.

A suffocating silence fell over the men. None dared to speak, let alone act.

“Are we really supposed to kill her?” Lee finally asked, his voice cracking under the weight of the question.

“The Oracle was never wrong,” Marcus growled, though his conviction was faltering. His hand shook as he centered the crosshairs on the girl’s head. His finger rested on the trigger, but he couldn’t pull it.

Every part of him screamed to fire, to fulfill the prophecy, to protect the camp. Yet deep down, he knew—this was no monster, no harbinger of doom. This was a child.

Sayed’s hand rested gently on Marcus’s shoulder, breaking his trance. Marcus looked at the elder, shame etched across his face. Was it shame for hesitating, or shame for even considering the act?

“Stand down,” Sayed commanded, his voice firm yet compassionate.

The elder straightened and called to the men below, “It’s a child—a young girl. Someone go out and bring her in.”

The camp exhaled as one, the pressure ebbing like a retreating tide, though the air remained thick with unease. They all knew what this meant. They all knew what the Oracle had foretold. The girl remained still, her wide, frightened eyes reflecting the first rays of sunlight. She was just a child—or was she? The men didn’t dare move, unsure if they had just invited salvation or sealed their doom.

Daniel lowered his gaze to the ground. “What do we do now?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost pleading.

Sayed took a deep breath, his expression unreadable. He stared at the girl, who stood trembling and uncertain on the edge of their world. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.