Kael drove Ashrend through another soldier's breastplate, crimson sparks tearing from the wound like embers from a forge. The body hit the ground without a cry—the soldier's eyes already hollow, his soul long shackled.
"Kael!" Lyra's voice cut through the din as an arrow streaked past his cheek, burying itself into the eye of a spearman lunging for his back. She landed beside him, bow already nocked with another arrow, her expression grim. "They're not even hesitating. It's like fighting statues."
Kael pulled the blade free, breathing hard. "Because they aren't fighting for themselves." His gaze rose past the sea of enemies. Across the Fold, Kaelen stood at the ridge, staff raised, cloak whispering like shadow.
High above the carnage, Kaelen barely moved. His lips traced the shape of runes, his staff anchoring the bindings that held his army together. Around him, crimson sigils spun in the air, tethering each soldier below like threads of puppetry.
One of his lieutenants knelt in the dirt at his side, head bowed. "The Brand-bearer resists. He cuts through the tethered as though their chains mean nothing."
Kaelen's eyes glowed faintly violet, distant but cold. "He cuts because I allow him to. Every soul that falls deepens the weave. Every death strengthens the binding. Let him burn. Let him bleed. His flame feeds mine."
He turned slightly, gazing down at the chaos where Kael fought like a living storm. "I found him once in the ruins, broken and lost. He does not yet realize I still hold the choice of his end."
The lieutenant shivered but said nothing.
Back in the Fold, Darric locked shields with three enemies, his teeth bared. "They don't stop coming!" He shoved forward, breaking one man's ribs with his shield edge before lopping off another's arm.
Selene was behind him, palms glowing, her voice steady even as her hands trembled. "Stay steady, Darric—if you fall, the line falls." She pressed her light into a wounded soldier, sealing his wounds as he screamed through clenched teeth.
Isryn raised her hands, eyes flashing. A wave of sapphire runes cascaded out, shattering the enemy's spells mid-incantation. "They aren't casting freely. They're channels—Kaelen's voice speaks through them."
Kael spun, cleaving through a group of bound soldiers, red lightning dancing from his blade. "Then we cut his voice out."
On the ridge, Kaelen's eyes narrowed as several of his tethers snapped in a surge of crimson sparks. For the first time, he gripped his staff tighter.
The lieutenant dared a glance. "He strikes against the weave itself…"
Kaelen's voice came low, like stone grinding against stone. "Good."
He pressed his staff into the ground. The earth split further, and from the rifts crawled horrors—Veilspawn chained in runes, their bodies half-flame, half-ash, dragged screaming into service.
"Let us see," Kaelen whispered, "how far the boy will burn before the Brand consumes him."
The Fold howled as the chained Veilspawn emerged, their bodies burning violet-black, their eyes hollow voids.
Lyra swore under her breath, drawing three arrows at once. "They're binding monsters now…"
Darric set his stance beside Kael. "Then monsters fall like men."
Kael's mark burned crimson, searing against his chest. Ashrend hummed like it was alive, like it too hungered for this battle. He raised the blade, eyes never leaving the sorcerer at the ridge.
"This ends at him."
And with that, Kael charged, the battlefield erupting into chaos behind him.