The walk back felt longer than it should have.

  The streets of Veligrad were no longer moving in any clear direction. Earlier that afternoon people had been trying to leave the city. Now they were simply trying to survive inside it.

  Viktor kept one hand on Misha’s shoulder as they pushed their way through the crowd.

  “Stay close,” he said.

  “I am,” Misha replied.

  Anya walked beside Elena, her eyes constantly moving between the buildings and the smoke drifting across the sky.

  The city no longer sounded the same.

  Veligrad had always been loud—wagons, factory whistles, vendors shouting from markets.

  Now the sounds were different.

  Sirens.

  Distant explosions.

  Shouting.

  And somewhere far away, a fire was roaring loudly enough that the wind carried the crackling through the streets.

  They turned down the alley toward their building.

  The courtyard was crowded.

  Neighbors had gathered outside, arguing in tight groups while others carried bags and crates down the stairs.

  Mr. Petrov stood near the entrance, speaking loudly to several people at once.

  “You heard the soldiers!” he said. “The roads are closed!”

  “That’s impossible,” someone shouted back.

  “I saw it myself,” another man said. “They’ve barricaded the southern road.”

  “They can’t keep us trapped here!”

  “They already have.”

  Viktor pushed past them and led his family inside.

  The building felt darker than before.

  Dust still clung to the walls from the earlier blast, and the smell of smoke had seeped into the hallways.

  The broken stairwell had been partially cleared, though the damage was obvious. Plaster hung from the ceiling and a large crack ran along the wall beside the steps.

  “Careful,” Viktor said as they climbed.

  On the second floor, a woman sat against the wall holding a cloth against her husband’s arm. Blood had soaked through the fabric.

  “What happened?” Elena asked softly.

  “Glass,” the woman said. “The window shattered.”

  The man tried to smile weakly.

  “Just a cut.”

  But the blood on the floor suggested otherwise.

  Elena hesitated.

  “We should help—”

  “There’s nothing we can do right now,” Viktor said gently.

  They continued upstairs.

  Their apartment looked exactly as they had left it.

  Except now it felt smaller.

  Like the walls had closed in.

  Elena set their bags down on the table.

  “So now what?” she asked.

  Viktor walked to the window again.

  The smoke had grown thicker.

  Flames flickered faintly above the rooftops to the east.

  “We wait,” he said.

  Anya frowned.

  “Wait for what?”

  Viktor didn’t answer.

  Because he didn’t know.

  An hour later the radio crackled to life again.

  The sound echoed faintly up the stairwell, drawing residents out of their apartments just like earlier.

  Viktor and Elena joined the others in the hallway.

  Mr. Petrov had turned the volume as high as it would go.

  Static buzzed through the speaker.

  Then the voice came.

  “…attention citizens of Veligrad…”

  The announcer sounded strained.

  More strained than before.

  “…military authorities have declared a temporary curfew throughout the city…”

  Murmurs spread through the hallway.

  “…all civilians are ordered to remain inside their homes after sunset…”

  “…essential supplies will be distributed when possible…”

  “…citizens are urged to remain calm and cooperate with military personnel…”

  The signal crackled again.

  “…enemy forces have been pushed back from the northern districts…”

  Some people sighed in relief.

  Others didn’t believe it.

  “…additional updates will follow…”

  Then the broadcast ended.

  Silence filled the hallway.

  Finally someone spoke.

  “That sounded like a lie.”

  No one disagreed.

  Evening came slowly.

  The smoke turned the sunset into a dull orange glow behind the rooftops.

  From their window the family could see fires burning in several districts now.

  Not just the east.

  The north.

  And somewhere deeper in the city.

  Veligrad was burning.

  Down on the street, soldiers were building barricades.

  They dragged carts into place and stacked sandbags along intersections.

  Military trucks roared past every few minutes.

  Something big was happening.

  Something the government radio wasn’t saying.

  Misha sat at the table quietly now.

  “Are the bombs going to stop tonight?” he asked.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Elena forced a calm voice.

  “Maybe.”

  But another explosion rolled through the city almost immediately after she said it.

  Anya stood by the window again.

  “People are still leaving,” she said.

  “Trying to,” Viktor replied.

  Outside, a long line of civilians moved south along the street, carrying bags and pushing carts.

  Refugees.

  But these were different from the earlier ones.

  Their clothes were burned.

  Some were injured.

  One man limped badly while leaning on a broken wooden crutch.

  “They’re from the north,” Elena said quietly.

  One of the refugees stopped beneath their building.

  He leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.

  A group gathered around him.

  Anya cracked the window open slightly so she could hear.

  “…factories are gone,” the man said.

  “Gone?”

  “Bombed all night.”

  “Did the army stop them?”

  The man shook his head.

  “They’re still coming.”

  A chill moved through the apartment.

  Viktor slowly closed the window again.

  “They’re not holding the line,” he said.

  Elena stared at him.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means the fighting is moving south.”

  Right toward them.

  Night fell.

  The curfew sirens began wailing across the city.

  Lights flickered on in windows all along the street.

  Then suddenly—

  They went out.

  The entire block fell dark.

  “What happened?” Misha asked.

  “The power,” Viktor said.

  “Is it broken?”

  “Probably.”

  Outside, the city was now lit only by fires.

  The orange glow reflected against the low clouds of smoke.

  And then—

  A new sound echoed down the street.

  Not explosions.

  Not sirens.

  Gunfire.

  Sharp cracks of rifles somewhere nearby.

  Everyone in the apartment froze.

  Another burst followed.

  Closer.

  People began shouting outside.

  Anya rushed back to the window.

  “Don’t—” Viktor started.

  But it was too late.

  She had already looked.

  Her voice came out small.

  “Dad…”

  Viktor joined her at the window.

  Down the street, soldiers were running.

  Not marching.

  Running.

  Civilians scattered in every direction.

  More gunfire echoed between the buildings.

  Then Viktor saw them.

  At the far end of the street.

  Dark figures moving through the smoke.

  Not Karovian uniforms.

  Different helmets.

  Different coats.

  Enemy soldiers.

  They were already inside Veligrad.

  One of them raised his rifle.

  The shot cracked through the street.

  A man near the corner collapsed instantly.

  People screamed.

  Gunfire erupted everywhere.

  Soldiers shouted orders while civilians ran blindly through the darkness.

  “Get away from the window!” Viktor shouted.

  But it was too late.

  The war had arrived.

  Not outside the city.

  Not at the factories.

  Inside Veligrad itself.

  And as the gunfire spread through the streets below, Viktor realized something terrifying.

  The siege wasn’t beginning.

  It had already begun, and they were stuck with nowhere to go.

  The first shots were only the beginning.

  From the window, Viktor saw the man collapse in the street.

  For a split second the crowd froze.

  Then panic exploded.

  People screamed and scattered in every direction as more gunfire cracked through the smoke. Enemy soldiers moved out of the haze at the far end of the street, their rifles flashing in the dim orange glow of the fires.

  They fired again.

  A woman running toward the alley stumbled and fell.

  Someone dragged her behind a wagon as bullets slammed into the wood.

  “Get down!” Viktor shouted.

  He pulled Anya away from the window just as another rifle shot snapped past outside.

  Everyone dropped low.

  Elena pulled Misha close beside the table, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

  Outside, the street had become chaos.

  Karovian soldiers rushed into view from the opposite direction, shouting commands as they raised their rifles.

  “Hold the line!” one of them yelled.

  The first volley erupted almost immediately.

  Gunfire cracked back and forth across the street, echoing between the stone buildings like thunder trapped in a narrow canyon.

  Bullets slammed into brick.

  Glass shattered.

  Someone outside screamed again.

  Viktor risked another glance over the windowsill.

  The enemy soldiers had pushed farther down the street now, moving between carts and doorways. Their uniforms were darker than the Karovian troops, their helmets shaped differently.

  They fired quickly and confidently.

  These men had done this before.

  A Karovian soldier ducked behind the overturned wagon near the crater, firing three shots toward the smoke.

  Another soldier dragged a wounded man across the cobblestones, leaving a dark smear behind them.

  The battle surged forward.

  Then backward.

  Like a wave crashing against rocks.

  “They’re fighting right outside,” Anya whispered.

  “Yes,” Viktor said.

  Misha buried his face against Elena’s chest.

  “I want it to stop,” he said, his voice trembling.

  Another explosion thundered somewhere nearby, shaking dust loose from the ceiling.

  Misha flinched and began crying.

  “I want it to stop,” he repeated, clinging tightly to his mother.

  Elena held him close, rocking him gently as the gunfire continued outside.

  “I know,” she said softly. “I know.”

  Her voice stayed calm, but her hands trembled slightly as she held him.

  Outside, the battle grew fiercer.

  Enemy soldiers rushed across the intersection, using the crater and broken wagons for cover. One of them tossed something toward the Karovian barricade.

  A moment later—

  A violent blast ripped through the street.

  The explosion knocked several soldiers backward and sent splinters of wood flying into the air.

  Flames burst from the wreckage of the barricade.

  “They’re breaking through,” Viktor muttered.

  Anya looked toward the window again.

  “What happens if they reach this building?”

  Viktor didn’t answer.

  He didn’t want to say the words out loud.

  Outside, the Karovian soldiers regrouped quickly.

  An officer shouted something and pointed toward the enemy line.

  Then they charged.

  Rifles fired.

  Boots pounded across the cobblestones.

  For a moment the fighting turned into a blur of movement—soldiers darting between buildings, gunfire flashing in the darkness, bodies falling where they stood.

  One enemy soldier sprinted across the street before being struck by a rifle shot that spun him sideways into the wall.

  Another Karovian soldier collapsed beside the crater without making a sound.

  The battle surged again.

  Back and forth.

  Neither side gaining ground for more than a few seconds.

  From somewhere deeper in the city, heavier gunfire erupted.

  Machine guns.

  The sound rattled through the streets like tearing metal.

  Anya’s eyes widened.

  “That’s closer,” she said.

  “Yes,” Viktor replied quietly.

  The fighting wasn’t staying in one place.

  It was spreading.

  Veligrad was turning into a battlefield.

  Misha continued crying softly against Elena’s shoulder.

  She brushed his hair gently.

  “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.

  But even she didn’t believe that anymore.

  Outside, the Karovian soldiers finally forced the enemy troops back toward the far end of the street.

  The gunfire slowly moved away into the smoke.

  The street fell into an uneasy silence broken only by distant shots and the crackle of burning wood.

  Viktor slowly stood.

  He looked out the window again.

  Bodies lay scattered across the road.

  Some soldiers.

  Some civilians.

  The overturned wagon still smoldered near the crater.

  Smoke drifted through the empty street where people had been running only minutes earlier.

  The enemy soldiers were gone—for now.

  But Viktor knew what that meant.

  They hadn’t been driven out of the city.

  They had only moved deeper into it.