Kael's lungs burned, each breath dragging fire into his chest as he cut down another rider. Ashrend's crimson arcs painted the night with sparks and lightning, but the Ashen Crown's warriors moved like a tide—never breaking, never faltering.
The gaunt commander stood at their heart, his pale flame like a void in the storm. Every strike he made pressed Kael further into desperation, his words falling like hammer blows.
"You are strong," he admitted, parrying Kael's wild downward strike and twisting to stab. Kael barely slipped aside, the pale fire grazing his ribs. His flesh screamed as it withered beneath the touch. "But strength without heritage is savagery."
Kael's crimson eyes flared, rage surging through his veins. "I don't need your heritage. I'll forge my own."
Lightning erupted from him, a pulse so violent that cobblestones shattered outward. Several Crown riders were hurled back, their armor scorched. Yet even as Kael created breathing space, the commander stepped forward through the blast, his flames hissing against the storm.
Elsewhere, the companions were being ground down.
Darric's shield was cracked, each block sending pain through his arm. He spat blood, swung low, and shattered the knee of a rider's horse, toppling mount and man alike. Still, another lance came, striking his shield so hard it drove him back into a wall.
Lyra's quiver was running thin. Sweat streaked her face as she drew, loosed, drew, loosed—her precision never faltering. Two sorcerers dropped with arrows to their throats, but the third raised a ward, deflecting her next volley. She cursed under her breath.
Isryn knelt, hands pressed to the ground, glyphs sparking under his touch. But each time he lit a new ward, the Crown's sorcerers countered, unraveling his magic with their own gray fire. Sweat poured from his temple, his vision blurring.
"We… can't… hold like this," he gasped.
Darric slammed his shield against another rider, teeth bared. "Then we don't hold—we bleed them until Kael finishes that bastard."
The duel intensified.
Kael swung Ashrend in a brutal upward arc, lightning exploding against the commander's blade. The two powers collided with such force that buildings around the square shuddered, glass shattering in waves.
The commander's face remained carved from stone. "I see the shadow of your teacher in you. Kaelen's madness. His hunger." His pale fire flared brighter, forcing Kael back step by step. "He was a traitor to the Council. You will be the same to the world."
Kael's snarl cut through the storm. "Don't speak his name!"
With a feral roar, he brought Ashrend down in a cleaving strike, red lightning splitting the ground.
The commander caught it, sparks flaring, the two blades locked. Their eyes burned into each other's—gray flame against crimson storm.
Neither yielded.
The city held its breath as the battle raged, thunder rolling over the rooftops.