Blood sprayed everywhere across the stone floor. Not his blood, atleast not yet his.
Maximus Drakhalis sidestepped as the demon scout lunged past, its serrated blade whistling through the air where his neck had been a heartbeat earlier. The creature spun with a fast unnatural speed, its scaled skin reflecting the orange glow of flames that consumed the western tower of the Citadel.
Max kept his breathing measured, calculated. Three steps back positioned him exactly where he wanted. The narrow archway limited the demon's ability to use its superior reach. The scout hissed, four yellow eyes tracking him with predatory focus as if eagle tracking a rabbit.
"Just die, human whelp!" The demon's voice scraped like metal on stone.
Max adjusted his grip on his blade. "Huh? After you."
The demon scout charged again, but Max had counted on this. He pivoted, letting the momentum carry the creature forward. His sword sliced across the back of the demon's leg. Not deep enough to sever, but precise enough to hamper.
Outside the chamber, the Citadel of Burning Stone lived up to its name. Flames licked stone walls never meant to burn. The sky flashed with explosions of violet and crimson as mages and aura-wielders battled overhead.
The wounded demon stumbled, righted itself, then spun with unexpected agility. Its blade caught Max's shoulder, tearing fabric and grazing skin. Max kept his face neutral despite the sting. Clear mind and calm is one of the key in the battle, pain was part of information, nothing more.
Footsteps pounded down the corridor.
'Reinforcements? Friend or foe?' Max couldn't afford to look.
The demon pressed forward, sensing distraction. Max retreated, one calculated step after another, leading the creature exactly where he wanted it, under the cracked ceiling beam he had noticed minutes earlier.
The demon's next lunge overextended. Max sidestepped, then drove his blade up into the creature's arm. As it howled, he kicked at the weakened support column beside them.
Stone groaned. The demon looked up just as the ceiling collapsed. Dust billowed through the chamber as rubble crushed the scout beneath.
Max wiped blood from his blade onto his sleeve, it was just a temporary victory. The siege had only begun, and already the Citadel's defenses fractured like glass. They clearly needed more than clever tricks to survive this day.
A roar shook the very foundation of the Citadel, vibrating through stone and bone alike. Max braced himself against the wall as dust rained down from the ceiling. That wasn't the battle cry of any demon.
Atlas, the War Lion had joined the fray.
Max navigated the corridor toward the central bailey, where his sister Violet would be coordinating defenses. The roar came again, followed by screams, not of civilians but of demons. Max allowed himself the smallest smile. Atlas hunted.
He reached a balcony overlooking the bailey and witnessed raw power unleashed. Atlas, golden mane rippling with energy, stood atop a pile of demon corpses. The War Lion's claws tore through enemy ranks like paper. With each swipe, demons flew backward, bodies broken before they hit stone.
A flash of movement caught Max's eye, a shadow where no shadow should be, slipping along the western wall. Directly toward where Violet stood with her commanders.
"Violet!" Max shouted, but his voice drowned in battle noise.
The assassin moved with unnatural speed, materializing behind his sister. Light glinted off a blade aimed for her spine. Max vaulted over the balcony, hit the ground hard, and ran.
Too slow. Always too slow.
The assassin's blade fell. Violet turned at the last moment, sensing danger, but not soon enough. The blade slashed across her side, drawing blood that darkened her armor. She staggered, caught off guard, a fatal mistake in battle.
The assassin raised its weapon for a killing blow.
Max threw himself between them, catching the descending blade with his own. The impact jarred his arms to the shoulder. The assassin's strength pushed him backward, boots sliding on blood-slicked stone. His sister fell behind him, clutching her wound.
"Run," Max grunted through clenched teeth.
The assassin? No, demon… but something worse, something ancient with eyes like endless voids, snarled. Its second arm transformed, flesh stretching into chitinous blades.
"The crown dies today," it hissed in a voice like winter.
Max held his ground. "Not this crown."
The assassin struck with both arms. Max parried one blow but the other caught him across the chest. Pain flared, hot and immediate. He stumbled but kept his blade up, protecting Violet.
Behind him, Astra the Violet's Dawn Gryphon landed with a screech that split the air. The assassin paused, calculating new odds.
"Get her out of here," Max called to Astra without taking his eyes off the assassin.
The gryphon's golden beak opened in protest.
"Now!"
The assassin lunged forward, both bladed arms swinging. Max ducked under the first, blocked the second, but the creature's foot connected with his chest. Air rushed from his lungs as he flew backward, slamming into a stone column.
His vision blurred, edges darkening as blood loss took its toll. Through the haze of encroaching unconsciousness, he saw Astra's magnificent form lift Violet in her powerful, golden-feathered talons, wings spreading wide to their impressive span.
The Dawn Nature Gryphon's protective instincts had overcome her reluctance to leave him behind. Good. At least his sister would survive this nightmare for now.
The assassin approached, seeming to grow taller with each step. "You fight well for a weakling. Your aura barely glimmers."
Max tasted blood. His fingers found the hilt of his fallen blade. "Strong enough."
"Your family's power cannot save this kingdom. The old ones return. The sundering comes."
Max pushed himself to his knees. "Not today."
The assassin raised both blade-arms for a killing strike. Max tensed, knowing he couldn't block both.
A golden blur crashed into the assassin from above. Atlas, mane blazing with power, drove the creature into the ground. Stone cracked beneath the impact. The War Lion's roar shook loose mortar from the walls.
Max struggled to his feet as Atlas tore into the assassin. The creature fought back, blades scoring golden fur, drawing rivulets of crimson. But against the War Lion's fury, it could only delay the inevitable.
With a final savage bite, Atlas separated the assassin's head from its shoulders. The body dissolved into shadow, leaving only a stain of black ichor on the stones.
The Lion turned toward Max, intelligent eyes assessing his wounds.
"Not me, I'm fine," Max insisted, pressing a hand to his bleeding chest. "Violet needs more help than me."
Atlas growled, unconvinced.
"I know my own limits," Max said, straightening despite the pain. "This clearly isn't one of them."
Around them, the battle continued. Demons still scaled the walls. Mages still hurled spells from the towers. The day remained unfinished.
Atlas padded forward, powerful muscles rippling beneath golden fur. He lowered his massive head, offering support to Max.
Max placed a hand on the Lion's mane, drawing strength from the contact. "Thank you, old friend."
They moved through the bailey toward the eastern tower where Astra had taken Violet. Soldiers parted before Atlas, eyes wide with awe or fear. The Lion's presence alone rallied courage in those who fought beside him.
Max noted every detail as they passed. The southern wall breached, the armory nearly overrun, the central keep still holding. His mind calculated odds, mapped strategies, identified weaknesses on both sides.
They found Violet in the healers' chamber, her wound bandaged but face pale with lost blood. When she saw Max, relief washed over her features.
"You idiot," she said, voice stronger than her appearance suggested. "What were you thinking?"
"That my sister needed help." Max knelt beside her cot. "How bad?"
"I'll live." Her eyes narrowed. "You're bleeding."
"It's just scratches." He dismissed her concern with a wave. "The assassin wasn't after me."
Violet's hand found his eyes. "Max, they've never come this close before. The wards failed. Something s changed."
"I know." Max squeezed her fingers. "For now just rest. Heal first. I'll handle the defenses."
"You can't." Violet reached Max's hand. "Your aura—"
"Isn't everything." Max stood, ignoring the pull of his wounds. "Strength comes in many forms, sister."
Outside, a fresh wave of explosions rocked the Citadel. The battle intensified. Through the window, Max watched demons scaling the northern wall, their numbers seemingly endless against the dwindling defenders.
No matter how strong a family is, the world is always larger. The thought settled cold in his stomach as he calculated their chances.
Atlas rumbled beside him, sensing his thoughts.
"We hold," Max said, more to himself than the Lion. "We always hold."
But for how long? The question hung unspoken in the air as Max turned back toward the battle that would define or end them all.