Seren stood at the edge of the battlefield, bow in hand, staring at Darion.
For a moment, she almost forgot she had come here to help. Her feet felt rooted to the ground, her arms frozen at her sides, her mind struggling to process what she was seeing.
Darion was surrounded. Warriors were charging at him from every direction, their weapons raised, their voices screaming for his blood. But he wasn't retreating. He wasn't running. He wasn't even backing away.
He was fighting.
Four of his strongest undead knights moved around him, flanking his position and intercepting anyone who tried to reach him from the sides. Ghet Ulg was one of them, his massive frame cutting through warriors like a scythe through wheat. Edric Vorne moved with lethal precision, his sword finding gaps in armor, his movements efficient and cold.
And Darion himself was in the center.
His sword glowed with brilliant golden light.
WHOOSH!
His blade cut through one warrior's attack. He stepped forward.
WHOOSH!
