"When fire fails to burn alone, it must ignite others."
The scarred lands outside Solstice still smoldered with the lingering traces of the Beast King's devastation. Ash blanketed the horizon like the veil of a dying age. Above it all, the once-ominous sky had begun to clear. But in its place came something far more uncertain — a brilliant, floating portal suspended like a rift in reality. Twisting arcs of violet and crimson light spiraled from its core, humming with unnatural resonance.
The Flame Citadel, now the nerve center of the continent's unified response, had become a storm of movement. Knights from the Frost Dominion marched beside Firebrand Hunters. Healers from Verdant Vale treated wounds of ice and ember alike. Banners of every kingdom flapped together in the wind.
And at the center of it all was Aira.
Wearing a reinforced flameweave cloak, the Blazebound Champion stood atop the central dais in the Citadel's war chamber. Her eyes flickered with sunfire, and her presence demanded attention — no longer a rogue talent, but a recognized leader. Her latest transformation — Solar Ascension — left an aura of quiet reverence around her.
Today was the gathering. The War Council.
Dozens of envoys, commanders, sovereigns, and high-ranking guild leaders filed into the hall. The room was circular, tiered like an arena, but instead of weapons, it was strategy that would be sharpened here.
At the far end sat the Council Throne, temporarily assigned to High Marshal Kestrel of the Unified Alliance, an elder tactician from the old Dominion War. His silver beard and sharp gaze held centuries of battle wisdom.
"Let the War Council commence," Kestrel announced, his voice amplified by an arcane echo spell. "May each voice speak truth, and each heart remain unbroken."
Aira stepped forward, projecting confidence without arrogance. "The Beast King was not the end. It was the beginning. I saw something in its final moments — a vision seeded with hatred from beyond our world." She paused. "The portal is not a remnant. It's a call. A call to war."
Whispers rose.
King Velmar of the Ironstone Dwarves hammered his gauntlet onto the table. "You claim to have seen into the heart of that creature, girl? We barely survived it."
Aira didn't flinch. "I didn't see with eyes. The fire goddess granted me a glimpse. These invaders are not natural. They command corruption as a weapon — a sentient plague, not unlike the taint that turned the Beast King."
Lady Nirell of the Verdant Vale — graceful, calm, and deadly in her emerald robes — tilted her head. "Then we are not merely fighting beasts, but ideologies. Parasites of will."
Kestrel nodded. "And that demands a unified command. No more squabbling borders. No more isolated defenses."
Grudging agreement rippled through the room.
The next to speak was General Ruthor of the Flamehorn Guild, once a rival to Aira's rise. His tone was cautious. "And who leads this command? You?"
Aira looked straight at him. "No. I don't seek to rule. But I will lead where needed. I've fought these threats. I know their scent. I'll take point on any frontline."
There was silence.
And then:
"I second her nomination," said an unexpected voice.
It was Lysara, her old rival turned uneasy ally. Dressed in hybrid armor of frost and fire, she stepped into the chamber with visible bruises from the last siege. "I fought her. I fought beside her. If we want to win, we follow her fire."
The council roared in debate.
Some cheered. Some protested.
Amidst the arguments, the Citadel's alert bells rang — a low, pulsing toll that hadn't sounded since the Beast King's first strike.
A scout burst in, bloodied and gasping. "My Lords and Ladies — the portal… it's growing. And something — something is stepping through."
Everyone froze.
Kestrel barked, "What did you see?"
The scout trembled. "Armor like obsidian. Eyes of violet flame. Speaking in tongues that made my ears bleed."
Lady Nirell turned pale. "It's begun."
Aira stepped forward. "Then stop wasting breath. Assign your forces. I'll form the Vanguard and push into the portal's edge before nightfall."
"You're walking into the unknown," Ruthor warned.
"I always have," she replied, fire flaring behind her.
Kestrel raised a hand. "Then the Council appoints Aira Blazebound as Vanguard Commander. All attending factions are to send their elite units under her provisional banner."
One by one, the nations agreed. Not out of love. But out of survival.
---
Later that Night – Solstice Watchtower
Aira stood alone, overlooking the glowing rift that pulsed in the sky. It looked alive now — beating like a monstrous heart.
She felt a quiet presence behind her.
"You're afraid," said Lysara.
Aira didn't deny it. "Only of what we'll lose. Not of what we'll face."
Lysara handed her a small insignia — a burning sun over a unified flame crest. "Wear this. It's the mark of the first warband. We may die… but not divided."
Aira smiled faintly. "We won't die. Not while there's still fire left to burn."
Above them, the portal shuddered again. A flash of violet lightning cracked the sk
y.
The invaders had come.
The War Council had spoken.
And war was about to begin.