The dawn never truly came in the Vale. The mist was too thick, the air too heavy. When the first pale light pressed through the trees, it carried no warmth, only the lingering stench of steel and blood.
Kael rose before the others, fastening his armor with steady hands. The campfire had burned down to smoldering embers, and his companions stirred one by one.
Darius stretched, groaning. "We're still alive. A miracle in itself."
"Don't tempt the gods," Seliora muttered, adjusting the clasp on her cloak. Her sharp eyes scanned the fog, ever suspicious. "Miracles often demand a price."
Aric stood last, still bleary, clutching his blade with more determination than grace. He looked to Kael. "Where now?"
Kael's eyes narrowed into the distance. "East. Toward the Sovereign's supply route. If we can sever it, we bleed them before their next move."
Before he could say more, the wind shifted. A faint sound—metal clinking in rhythm—cut through the mist. Too many footsteps for a wandering patrol.
Kael raised a hand. "Blades out."
The ambush came swift. Figures emerged from the fog, armored in blackened steel, their visors etched with the Sovereign's crest. A vanguard, smaller than an army but far too many for weary travelers.
The clash erupted instantly.
Darius's spear spun, skewering the first soldier through the throat. He ripped it free with a roar, but three more pressed him at once. Seliora's hands flared with arcane sigils, her magic a burst of crimson sparks that blinded and disoriented.
Aric charged ahead recklessly, parrying a strike meant for Kael, his teeth clenched in defiance. "I'm not falling here!"
Kael's sword answered in silence. Black lightning rippled from its edge, the ground cracking beneath his feet as he cut down the front line with ruthless precision. Every movement was sharp, decisive—his strikes not just killing but unraveling.
But the vanguard pressed harder. Their leader, a knight bearing twin axes, strode forward, cutting through Seliora's barrier as though it were parchment. His voice boomed, hollow under his helm.
"The Crimson Heir himself. Orders were clear—bring back his head."
Kael's gaze burned crimson. He stepped forward, his companions instinctively forming a circle around him.
"You'll find," Kael said, his voice low, "it's not so easily taken."
The fog thickened, the clash tightening as the circle of firelight faded into a storm of steel and shadow.