---
Chapter 5
The wind carried the acrid scent of blood and burning dust as the Heralds of Dawn plunged into the cursed forest.
The massive trees, twisted by dark forces, seemed to whisper ominous warnings. The ground was littered with blackened roots and magical debris, remnants of ancient unholy rituals.
Kael advanced at the front, his steps measured despite the weakness of his body. His red eyes shone with a relentless gleam, far from the fragile appearance he showed.
He felt the magic boiling inside him, ready to burst forth, ready to crush everything in its path.
The cultists' camp stretched out before them, a tide of shadows warped by hatred and madness. Guttural cries echoed, accompanied by the clashing of weapons and the sinister whisper of dark spells.
Ser Aelric raised his sword, his face marked by determination and fatigue.
"For the light!" he shouted, and the Heralds followed, united in a final charge.
The impact was brutal.
Bodies fell by the dozens, flashes of magic flew in every direction. Kael unleashed his power with surgical precision: he deployed complex illusions, deceptive duplicates, and invisible walls to divide the enemy ranks.
The cultists tormented themselves, striking imaginary allies or collapsing in terror at terrifying visions.
But the battle raged fiercely on both sides. The Heralds lost brothers-in-arms, lay wounded, exhausted, some on the verge of collapse.
In the heart of the melee, Lyra fired her last arrows, her fragile but determined figure striving to repel the assault.
Eldrin cast protective spells, drained, and Ser Aelric fought with the strength of despair, pushing back the enemy at the cost of serious wounds.
Kael watched, merciless. He avoided close combat, preferring to manipulate the battlefield from afar, orchestrating death around him.
When the carnage was nearly over, only a few survivors remained, spent, gasping, their strength almost gone.
It was then that Kael stepped forward toward Lyra, who had just loosed an arrow, her body trembling with effort.
"You fought well," he murmured in a cold voice.
She raised her eyes to him, wary, but too weak to flee or retaliate.
With a fluid motion, Kael focused his mana and released an invisible wave that threw her to the ground, breaking a rib.
Lyra tried to get up, but her strength betrayed her.
Kael knelt beside her, his gaze piercing.
"You were an obstacle."
With a simple, almost effortless pressure, he plunged a magical dagger into her chest. The pain was swift, and her eyes filled with surprise and betrayal.
Then she collapsed, lifeless, while Kael stood up, his face cold as death.
Around them, the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Kael looked at the battlefield, strewn with the bodies of friends and foes alike.
The price of power had been paid.
And it was only the beginning.
--