The icy winds of Skjoldheim Fjords howled like wild spirits as the twins, Orion and Lyra Vale, stood at the center of the frost-covered training ring, panting and bruised. Before them loomed a mountain of a man—Jarl Havor Stonebreaker, leader of the Frostwolf Reavers—his arms crossed, breath misting in the cold air.
"Again," Havor grunted. "You die in real war if you hesitate. ⟦Fyrar skarn durn!⟧"
("Strike like frostbite, sudden and sharp!")
Orion raised his Chrono Blade, hand shaking. "But I barely moved before—"
WHAM! Havor's axe struck the ground near his feet.
"Less talk. More rage. Tap your power—three seconds of freeze or three seconds of death."
Lyra stepped forward, her Lumina Arnis Stick glowing. "I got him."
They circled. Then charged.
Orion blinked and time slowed—he froze the air for three seconds. Just long enough. Lyra rushed in, her aura flowing over him and Havor alike. Healing and protection. The clash of wood against steel echoed—but this time, Havor grinned.
"⟦Good. Not soft anymore.⟧" he nodded. "But still not Reaver-ready."
From the ship decks, Captain Ryker Vale laughed, watching with crossed arms. "They'll get there, cousin. Blood makes warriors, not just blades."
Elira leaned beside him, arms folded. "They're young. But not weak."
Kaorun approached, nodding toward Lyra. "Your sister's spirit is strong. The tribes see it."
"And Orion?" Elira asked.
Kaorun's eyes narrowed. "He sees too much. That can be dangerous."
Meanwhile, in the fjord's cliffside barracks, General Kael and Queen Avaleen of Lunethra stood alone in quiet conversation.
"He's pushing them hard," Avaleen whispered, watching the training below.
"They need it," Kael said firmly. "The war won't wait."
"You're still too harsh," she teased softly. "Even when they're your own blood."
Kael sighed, gaze softening. "Because they are my blood."
Suddenly, a horn blared from the eastern ridge. The scouts screamed:
"Shadowspawn—small war band—approaching through the frost path!"
"Positions!" Aerion barked. "Protect the twins!"
As soldiers rushed into formation, the Ironjaw Corsairs loaded their elemental cannons. Frostwolf berserkers formed the front line. Above, Wyrmcallers summoned icy gusts to blind the enemy.
The first wave hit fast—twenty shadowspawn, followed by two Obsidian Wraiths, twisted humanoid beasts with bladed arms.
"Hold!" shouted Selu Tidebloom, flinging water like slicing ribbons.
"⟦Sura'el ven'kai!⟧" (Purify and strike!)
Zeke appeared beside her, emerging from shadows. "Tag team?"
Selu grinned. "Thought you'd never ask."
Together they struck—Selu froze the wraith, Zeke shattered it mid-sprint with a clean slice.
Nearby, Rugok Beastclaw and Gorran Steeljaw clashed with the second wraith, both yelling in unison as their combined force crushed it beneath spiked fists and molten blades.
Lyra threw healing light toward wounded Reavers. Orion timed his freeze again—this time stopping a leaping beast mid-air, allowing Kael to skewer it mid-flight.
Havor roared with pride. "⟦Now that's battle!⟧"
The attack faded. Bodies melted into ash. No casualties—only bruises and blood.
Later, around the frostfire, the allies gathered.
"We're no longer scattered clans and kingdoms," Aerion declared. "We're one."
Cheers rose. But so did unease. The battles were getting closer.
And Umbrosia was only just beginning to show its hand.