POV Nahlia Mare
The Heartwood Realm
The portal shimmered behind her, rippling like disturbed starlight as Nahlia stepped through into a realm thick with magic. The air was damp and alive, pulsing with ancient energy. Mossy trees towered above like cathedral pillars, light filtering down in shards of emerald gold.
She didn't make it five steps before she was greeted by the sharp ends of at least thirty spears.
"State your purpose, water witch," one of the guards hissed, bark armor creaking with tension.
Nahlia raised her hands slowly, then bowed low, unbothered. "I come bearing messages, gifts, and an invitation from Goddess Rhiannan." Her voice was calm, but carried the weight of divine authority. She knelt and unrolled the scroll, holding it out.
The dryads murmured.
"The goddess?" another whispered.
"The one who crushed the Forgotten King's soldiers?"
"The moonblood flame."
The tension shattered.
Suddenly, the spears lifted. The guard captain bowed in return. "Forgive our caution. Come, emissary. The Queen will see you."
They led her through vine draped paths, past glowing fungi and watchful tree spirits, until they arrived at the Queen's Grove, a spiraling open canopy of living wood, woven with flowers that bloomed in the shape of stars.
Queen Thalirea stood barefoot on a platform of tangled roots, her hair a cascading waterfall of blooming vines. Her eyes glowed with old magic.
Nahlia bowed and handed her the scroll. The Queen read silently, lips parting at the contents. She looked up, her gaze sharpened with purpose.
"Who will volunteer to fight alongside Goddess Rhiannan?" she called out in the dryadic tongue.
The response was a roar of leaves and voices. Thousands stood. "We will."
The forest shook with their unity.
The Queen turned back to Nahlia. "You will stay the week. Train with us. Break bread with us. We will be ready."
Nahlia nodded, emotion rising in her throat.
She excused herself briefly and activated her smart brain. "Sasha? Can we house twenty thousand dryads in the new barracks?"
"Girl," Sasha's voice crackled sassily. "That place holds five hundred thousand. Tell the twigs to bring their weapons and their appetites."
Nahlia laughed, tears slipping down her cheeks. She turned to the gathered dryads.
"We have a home waiting," she said softly. "With barracks made from stone and magic. With food, beds, training grounds, and purpose. You are wanted."
The dryads erupted in cheers, the trees themselves joining in, wind spiraling with excitement.
That night, Nahlia dined beneath glowing moss canopies, her bed a hammock of moonlit vines, heart full knowing she wasn't just building an army, she was uniting a realm.
POV Barrick Stonevein
The Stonekin Expanse
The stone underfoot vibrated with distant forges and marching boots as Barrick, flanked by his radiant mates... Auralyn, Nimya, and Thess, stepped through the portal into dwarven territory.
Stonekin was all rock and rune, vast mountains carved with spires, lava-lit tunnels glowing like veins under stone skin. It was raw. Brutal. Beautiful.
And the welcome? Not exactly warm.
"Well, look what the gods shat out," one gruff soldier sneered, eyeing Thess's curves like a starving man.
He reached for her waist. Big mistake.
Barrick didn't even speak. Just moved. One punch. One fire rune flared. And the dwarf was launched a clean ten feet back, smoking.
"Touch her again and I'll send your cock to the shadow realm," he growled, eyes glowing molten red.
Suddenly? The tension tripled. The dwarven guards swarmed, runes flaring.
"Drop your weapons. Hands up. Now."
Barrick rolled his eyes. "Gods damned amateurs…"
They were dragged, wrists tied with enchanted rope, through the winding citadel halls to the throne room of King Durnhald Rockmaul, an older dwarf with a beard like braided obsidian and eyes that could crush steel.
He looked up.
Paused.
"Barrick?"
The guards froze.
"You shackled Barrick Stonevein? The Rune Breaker? "The Moonblood Queen's fucking sibling?!" He threw his goblet across the room, the metal flattening against a pillar with a loud clang.
"Untie them! NOW!"
The guards scrambled.
King Durnhald stepped down, bowed low to Barrick's nymphs, and then clapped his hand on Barrick's shoulder.
"By the molten gods… it's an honor. You should've just said who you were."
Barrick scowled. "Didn't get the chance before your boy tried to feel up Thess."
The King winced. "I'll have him reassigned to latrine duty. Permanently."
Once seated in his private war chamber, over maps, tankards of spiced mead, and roasted boar, Durnhald read Rhiannan's message aloud.
He sat in silence for a moment. Then grunted.
"I won't lie. We don't get involved in realm wars unless we're paid."
Barrick folded his arms. "What's the number?"
The haggling took hours. Voices were raised. Runes flared. A barrel was thrown. And finally, gold was promised. A lot of gold.
But the deal was done.
50,000 hardened dwarven warriors. Enchanted hammers. Explosive rune lines. Battle mechs. All pledged to Rhiannan's war.
Barrick grumbled the entire walk back to their quarters.
"Damn gold hoarders. This is highway robbery."
"You did good," Auralyn whispered, nuzzling his neck.
"You were so strong," Nimya added, wrapping her arms around his thick waist.
Thess bit his ear gently. "And a little terrifying. We love that."
He melted, just a little.
"Still. I better get a personal thank you from the goddess for this."
They shut the doors, candles flickered to life, and the nymphs gently pulled him into a much needed, well earned rest.
POV Kazra "The Red Bitch" Voralis Ashenreach, the Fireborn Covens
The portal sizzled shut behind them, leaving a swirl of smoke in their wake. Kazra stepped out onto scorched black stone, her long crimson coat flaring behind her like a dragon's wing.
Jaxen cracked his knuckles. Rohar adjusted the obsidian ring pulsing with cursed fire on his finger.
They'd barely taken five steps before the air screamed.
Boom. Fireballs. Cursed vines. Spells thick enough to rip the soul from a body tore through the sky.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Kazra said cheerfully, dodging a bolt of witchfire that missed her head by a breath.
She threw up both hands and bellowed, "DON'T KILL THE WITCHES! I SWEAR TO THE GODS, WE CAME TO TALK!"
The barrage slowed.
Dozens of witches and warlocks blinked at her through the smoke. One snarled, "Says who?"
Kazra grinned, flames licking her skin. "Says the Moonblood fucking Queen. We have a message from Rhiannan herself."
A moment later, the attack fully halted. The warriors parted like a blood red sea as the Mother of the Fireborn Coven strutted through the smoke.
Old? Maybe. But this bitch was fierce. Ebony robes embroidered with flames. Charred jewelry that radiated raw power. And a gaze that could vaporize bone.
"Kazra Voralis," the Mother said with a lazy smirk. "Been a while since your banshee shrieking scared off my guards."
Kazra blew her a kiss. "Still sexy though."
The Mother snorted. "Show me the damn letter."
Rohar handed it over with a bow, respectful as ever. The Mother read the letter, cursed under her breath, then snapped her fingers.
A scroll materialized in midair with a pop. She yanked out a pair of silver rimmed spectacles and perched them on her nose.
"Well, hell. Looks like I've got about 15,000 bored witches and warlocks just itching to fry something."
Kazra fist pumped the air. "We'll take 'em."
"One week," the Mother said, nodding. "You three stay, train them up, burn some shit, get laid.....whatever you people do."
Kazra smirked. "Perfect. By the end of this week, they'll be ready to go full fucking inferno."
Jaxen chuckled darkly. "You mean we will."
Rohar grinned, shadows licking up his arm. "Let's light a match."
The witches cheered. Magic danced. Training began before nightfall.