The capital city rose before them, its walls scarred but still standing. Darius's banners flew where her family's once had, a stark reminder of all that had been lost.
Elara's army made camp just outside the city limits, preparing for the siege. But Darius, it seemed, had other plans.
At dawn, his forces emerged from the city gates a massive host of soldiers, mercenaries, and worse. Among them walked creatures of dark magic, twisted abominations created by Malthus's forbidden arts.
"He's forcing a field battle," Sera observed. "He wants to crush us in one decisive strike."
"Then we give him a fight he won't forget," Elara said, her voice steady despite the fear in her heart.
The armies met on the plains before the city. Steel clashed against steel, magic against magic. Elara fought alongside her troops, her starlight blazing across the battlefield, healing the wounded, protecting her soldiers, striking down those who threatened her people.
But Darius's forces were vast, and slowly, inevitably, they began to push Elara's army back.
Then Malthus appeared.
The dark sorcerer strode through the battlefield, and soldiers on both sides scattered before him. His power was palpable, a suffocating darkness that made the very air hard to breathe.
"Princess Elara!" he called out, his voice carrying across the chaos. "Your rebellion ends here. Surrender now, and I will make your death quick."
"I don't think so," Elara replied, stepping forward. Silver light erupted around her, pushing back the darkness.
They fought, and it was unlike anything Elara had ever experienced. Malthus's magic was powerful, honed over decades of study and sacrifice. But Elara had something he lacked the pure, untainted power of starlight itself.
Starlight and shadow collided, creating shockwaves that knocked nearby soldiers off their feet. The battle raged around them, but in this moment, there was only Elara and Malthus, locked in a duel that would determine the fate of the kingdom.
Elara could feel herself tiring. Malthus seemed inexhaustible, drawing on some dark reservoir of power. She needed to end this quickly, or she would lose.
Then she remembered Aldric's words: *Magic is will made manifest.*
She wasn't just fighting with power. She was fighting for her people, for her kingdom, for a future free from tyranny. That was her will. That was her strength.
Elara gathered every ounce of her power, every bit of hope and determination and love she possessed, and channeled it into one final strike.
Starlight erupted from her in a column of pure silver radiance, so bright it turned night to day. It struck Malthus directly, overwhelming his defenses, burning away the darkness.
The sorcerer screamed once, then crumbled to ash.
Across the battlefield, Darius's forces faltered, seeing their greatest weapon destroyed. Elara's army pressed the advantage, and the tide of battle turned.
By sunset, Darius's forces were routed. The usurper himself fled back into the city, sealing the gates behind him.
Elara stood among the wounded and the dead, victorious but at terrible cost. So many lives lost. So much blood spilled.
Kieran found her there, exhausted and grieving.
"You did it," he said softly. "You won."
"This battle," Elara said. "But the war isn't over. Darius still holds the capital."
"Then we finish it," Kieran said, taking her hand. "Together."