The Sovereign troops pressed harder now, wave after wave crashing like a tide that would not end. Each clash of blade against blade sent sparks into the smoke-filled air, the battlefield reeking of iron and blood.
Ronan's shield was little more than splinters, yet he still stood. His axe rose and fell in brutal arcs, every swing fueled by fury and desperation. But his breathing was ragged, his steps slower. He was bleeding too much.
"Stay behind me!" he bellowed, even as his knees trembled. His voice still carried, still commanded.
Beside him, Lyra spun in a dance of silver and red. Her daggers flashed like lightning, carving through armor joints, finding soft flesh in the chaos. She laughed, wild and sharp, though her left arm hung stiff from a wound that refused to close.
Her duel with the captain dragged on. He towered above her, his sword carving great arcs that sent shockwaves through stone. But she never stopped moving, never stopped taunting.
"You swing like an ox! Has anyone told you that?" she spat, sliding past another slash that shattered a stone bench.
The captain's roar shook the square, his strikes heavier, faster.
But Lyra's steps faltered once, just once, her foot slipping in the blood-soaked mud. The greatsword came down—barely missing her skull as she rolled, coughing through dust and smoke.
Kael's heart twisted at the sight. But he couldn't reach her. Not yet.
Because Serenya was breaking.
Her barrier was groaning now, the spiderweb cracks glowing brighter with every arrow that struck. Each impact rattled through her body, shaking her bones, threatening to tear her apart.
Her lips moved, whispering spells through broken breath. Her eyes were glassy, blood streaking her cheeks.
"I can… hold it," she lied.
"Serenya!" Kael's voice cut through the battlefield, raw and sharp. His blade split another soldier in two, crimson lightning snapping outward with the strike.
But he could see it—she was seconds away from collapse.
He roared, fury ripping from his chest as he carved through another line of men. His aura flared, sparking red-black, each strike heavier than the last.
Yet even he was slowing. Each swing burned in his muscles, his wounds screaming. His vision pulsed red with exhaustion.
The Sovereign soldiers saw it. Their captain barked orders, and they swarmed in like vultures sensing blood.
"Break him! Break them all!"
The square became a storm.
Kael fought like a demon, his crimson blade leaving trails of fire in the night. Ronan crushed skulls even as his blood drenched the ground. Lyra danced with madness, cutting through flesh with every flick of her wrist. Serenya stood shaking, screaming spells, her barrier barely holding.
But still the tide pressed harder.
And still the cracks widened.
The villagers huddled close together, clutching children, their eyes locked on Serenya's failing shield. Hope and terror warred in their gazes.
Kael's chest heaved, his aura flickering. His companions fought with every breath they had left.
And then—
The barrier groaned. The cracks blazed white.
It was going to break.
Not yet. Not now. But soon.