Kael tore through the enemy's vanguard, Ashrend flashing like a scar of crimson lightning across the smoke-choked battlefield. Every strike left not only broken bodies but sparks that lingered unnaturally, hovering in the air like echoes of violence.
Darric slammed his shield into a soldier's chest, bones snapping with the impact. "Hold tight! Don't let their press fold us in!" he barked, planting his boots in the dirt like a mountain refusing the storm.
Lyra loosed another arrow, the shaft splitting through a man's visor and pinning him to the earth. She didn't wait to watch him fall—already her next three arrows were drawn and flying. "Kael, right side, watch your gap!" she shouted, her voice steady even over the carnage.
Kael pivoted, intercepting a spear lunging for his ribs. Ashrend cleaved through it in one motion, then followed through to the soldier behind it. A backhand slash caught another, his aura sparking crimson with each movement. The Spark in him screamed for release, for the storm waiting at the edge of his veins, but Kael forced it down.
Not yet.
He could not lose himself now.
Selene dragged another wounded soldier back behind the shield line, her hands glowing white as she closed a gash across his chest. Her robes were already drenched in blood—some her own, some not. "Stay alive, damn you," she whispered fiercely, forcing light into the wound until it sealed. Her face was pale, sweat slicking her brow, but her resolve never cracked.
Isryn stood near her, both hands raised, her voice cutting into the chaos with chilling precision. "Counter—Break."
A sorcerer across the line screamed as his own spell ruptured, the wards he had tried to weave imploding and consuming him in violet fire. Isryn's eyes glowed faintly, her expression cold. "That's one."
The battlefield churned, neither side giving ground.
Kaelen's host was disciplined—too disciplined. Their eyes were vacant, their bodies moving with unnatural synchronicity. When one soldier fell, another stepped seamlessly into his place. Their chants carried like a drumbeat, fueling their frenzy.
Darric spat into the dirt. "These bastards fight like they've no blood left in them."
"They don't," Isryn hissed. "Kaelen's tethering them. Their souls are shackled to his will."
Kael's stomach twisted. Every swing of Ashrend cut down men who hadn't chosen to stand here. Men whose wills weren't their own. Yet he couldn't falter. To hesitate was to let them kill his companions.
The lines clashed again, harder this time.
A wave of armored brutes crashed against Kael's front, wielding axes heavy enough to split stone. Their armor bore Kaelen's mark, crimson glyphs carved into steel, glowing faintly with the sorcerer's binding.
Kael stepped into their charge.
"Ashrend—Sever."
The blade roared crimson, cleaving through one axe, then its wielder, then biting into the second brute's pauldron. He twisted the sword, the air sparking with red lightning, and the man exploded backward in a spray of flame and steel shards.
"Push!" Kael roared.
Darric answered with a thunderous shield slam that knocked three men off their feet. Lyra's arrows found throats in the chaos. Isryn unleashed a shockwave of blue force, scattering the remnants.
But Kaelen's army did not break.
They surged again. Always more. Always relentless.
Kael's breath came heavy, his aura flaring brighter with each cut. The mark on his chest seared like molten iron, begging to be unleashed. He could feel the Spark clawing at him, whispering—Burn them. End them. Tear the chain at its root.
And beyond the tide, Kaelen stood. Unmoving. Watching.
The heretic sorcerer raised his staff, and the battlefield answered.
The ground trembled. Fissures split the dirt, spilling black fire into the Fold. From those fissures, figures began to crawl—shapes half-flesh, half-shadow, forged from the remnants of dead soldiers. Veilspawn—but bound, enslaved, twisted into Kaelen's army.
Lyra's breath caught. "He's binding the Veil itself…"
Darric snarled. "Then we cut them down, same as the rest!"
Kael's eyes burned crimson. He raised Ashrend, the blade humming with hunger. "Stay close. We break them piece by piece."
The battle stretched wider, spilling across the Fold in waves of steel and shadow. For every yard gained, blood was spent. For every moment held, a companion's strength burned hotter.
And Kaelen's power grew.
The war in the Ravenwoode Fold was no skirmish. It was a crucible.
One that would drag itself into night after night, until either Kael or Kaelen's will shattered.