The General's Daughter: The Mission-Chapter 105: Chasing The Past

Argus and Panoptes. The twin sentinels of the northern gate of Calma.

Now they stood like broken guardians — the last surviving remnants of what had once been the beating heart of the Azurverdan Empire.

Her empire. Hers... and Alaric’s.

Time had stripped them bare. Stone weathered. Towers fractured. Vines crawling where banners once flew.

But even in ruin, their presence commanded the horizon.

Lara slowly closed her eyes. For a moment, the present loosened its grip. And she willed the past to return.

At first there was only silence.

And the ruin rebuilt itself.

The shattered towers rose again in her mind — tall, seamless, and impossibly smooth, their pale surfaces gleaming beneath the sun like blades drawn from marble.

Between them stood the iron gates. Black. Massive. Unyielding.

Not rusted relics, but weapons forged to guard an empire.

The surrounding walls stretched outward across the land like the crown of a sleeping king — immense, absolute, and impossible to breach.

Banners unfurled high above the ramparts, snapping sharply against the wind. The sigil of Azurverda burned proudly upon them.

The air carried the scent of steel and authority.

Below, rows of soldiers stood in perfect formation, armor polished and spears upright.

Calma — Alive... untouched and unconquered.

And for one fleeting moment— It felt as if the empire was still there

She opened her eyes and now there was only silence.

Only two worn towers remained, leaning stubbornly against the sky. Beyond was still waters that reflected the azure sky.

And under the high, merciless sun, they did not look defeated.

They looked defiant.

Proof that something powerful had once ruled here.

Proof that an empire had once belonged to an exiled prince.

Proof that even time — ruthless and patient — could not erase everything.

Behind her, hooves shifted softly in the grass.

The four men had dismounted. None of them spoke.

Because whatever had just passed across Lara’s face, it did not belong to this lifetime.

Ares saw it. The way her fingers pressed against the stone.

Not gently. Not curiously but possessively.

As if the tower had once stood because she willed it to.

His gaze darkened.

Most people looked at ruins with nostalgia... or mild interest. She looked at them as if she were measuring a great loss. Like she was calculating what it would take to rebuild.

She stood before the tower, not as a visitor, but as someone taking inventory of what remained.

The wind shifted, lifting strands of her hair. In the heat of the sun, they looked like copper set ablaze.

Ares stepped closer. Not enough to touch her. Just enough to feel the air change.

"You’ve been here before," he said quietly.

It wasn’t a question.

Lara didn’t turn. Her palm flattened against the moss-covered stone.

"Everyone around here has," she replied evenly.

It was a deflection and a smooth one.

Ares’s eyes flicked upward, studying the broken bpdy of the tower.

"No," he murmured. "Not like this."

Lara turned to him, her brows raised — a silent question.

Behind them, Logan and the others exchanged subtle looks. They felt it too — the tension tightening like a wire drawn too far.

Ares moved around her slowly, boots scraping against loose gravel. He stopped in front of her.

Now she had to look at him, really looked at him.

And when she did—there it was again. That flicker. Not of grief. Not simple remembrance but authority.

It was fleeting. But he caught it.

"I heard you mentioned names," he said.

Her breath stalled. A pause too sharp to ignore.

"Argus and Panoptes, " Ares’s voice lowered. "Who are those?"

Silence rippled outward.

"They are just nonsense. Argus Panoptes is a many-eyed giant in Greek mythology. Known for his perpetual vigilance, he served the goddess Hera as a watchman." Lara narrated, her gaze flicking to the ruins. "I read an article about an empire in old Azurverda with twin watch towers at the north gate named after that giant."

"How do you know these two towers are called that?" Liam asked carefully from behind.

Because the ruins weren’t marked. No signboards. No plaques.

Locals simply called them "La Sira Torres"

But Lara had spoken the names earlier. Like they mattered, like they belonged.

Lara’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

"I just guessed." Lara said simply.

Ares didn’t blink.

"You touched it," he continued, silently. "Like you architected it."

The words landed heavy between them.

Because ruins were one thing. History was another.

But a woman who stood before fallen towers like a returning ruler?

That was something else entirely.

Lara finally withdrew her hand.

The imprint of moss clung faintly to her palm.

"You’re reading too much into it," she said calmly.

Wouldn’t they think she was crazy, that indeed she was one of the architects?

Ares stepped closer. Close enough now that the heat from Midnight and Chestnut mingled in the air between them.

"Am I?"

His tone wasn’t accusing. It was intrigued. Dangerously intrigued.

"You rode here like you were reclaiming ground," he added quietly. "You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t ask where we were going. You knew."

Logan shifted uneasily. He could feel the tension in the air but could not place its cause.

Lucas frowned. Liam watched Lara with a new kind of scrutiny.

Lara met Ares’s gaze steadily.

"You brought us here to show us something interesting. You were clearly at the lead. I only got ahead when I saw these ruins," she said.

The wind howled softly across the lake, stirring the tall grass around the ruins.

For a split second, Ares imagined her standing atop the tower. Cloaked in something darker than silk.

Commanding and untouchable.

The thought unsettled him more than it should have. Because if Lara was hiding something, it wasn’t a petty secret. And he, Ares Zuvel, had built his life on control and did not like secrets and surprises.

"You look like you know this place," he said at last.

His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it lingered.

"You look at it like it’s... waiting for you."

A brief silence followed. The breeze stirred the lake, sending ripples of silver across the water.

Lara’s lips curved.

Not soft. Not playful but something else. Something almost... knowing.

"Maybe I do."