The victory at Black Hollow filled Aron's band with new strength. They worked through the night, reinforcing the gates, stacking supplies, and tending to the wounded.
A hundred now stood beneath his banner — villagers, hunters, freed captives — all bound by a single cause.
But even in triumph, the air tasted of ash. Lina, sharp-eyed as ever, stood watch atop the tower. When dawn's first light crept across the land, she saw it.
Dust rising. The glint of steel.
"The Scourge comes," she said.
---
Garron climbed to her side, his face hardening as he gazed at the force approaching — a black tide of riders and foot soldiers, banners dark as night, at least five hundred strong.
Aron joined them. His heart pounded, but his voice stayed steady.
"They come to break us. But here, we make our stand."
Garron gave a grim nod. "Then let's make them pay for every stone they take."
---
They worked swiftly. Traps were laid beyond the walls — pits hidden beneath brush, stakes driven into the ground, oil spread where fire might turn the field to flame.
Inside, the villagers were armed with spears, bows, axes — whatever could be found or forged.
Mara moved among them, binding wounds, sharing quiet words of courage.
Children helped carry water and arrows. None would flee.
---
By midday, the Scourge surrounded Black Hollow.
From their ranks rode a figure cloaked in red, his mask silver and cold — Jaren himself.
His voice carried over the field, sharp as a blade.
"Aron. Prince of ruin. Throw down your sword. Open these gates. I offer you mercy. Refuse — and none within will see the dawn."
Aron stood atop the wall, sword raised high.
"We are done with your mercy, mask. Come take the gates if you can."
A roar rose from his band, fierce and defiant.
---
Jaren gave a signal. The Scourge advanced.
Arrows darkened the sky. Battering rams rolled toward the gate.
The first wave struck the traps — men falling into pits, horses screaming as they fell upon stakes, fire licking at their feet where oil blazed.
From the walls, Aron's archers rained death upon the attackers.
But still they came — wave after wave, relentless.
---
The battle raged as day turned to dusk. The rebels fought with fury born of desperation. Garron's axe cleaved through shield and bone. Lina struck from the shadows, cutting down those who breached the walls.
Aron led wherever the line wavered, his blade and voice lifting his people.
---
But the Scourge was vast, and Black Hollow's strength was not endless. As night fell, the gates shuddered beneath the ram's blows.
Garron gritted his teeth. "The dawn will not find us standing, prince."
Aron's eyes burned. "Then let the night remember us."
Far beyond, in the dark sky above, the first stars flickered into view — silent witnesses to the storm unleashed below.
And in the heart of the ruin, the Puppet Master watched, certain of his triumph.