The fighting is a raging storm, ebbing and flowing. We gain ground, only to be driven back as more attackers swarm from the side alleys. The smell of smoke thickens, stinging my eyes, and I blink it away, searching for gaps in their formation, strategies to exploit. Where did they come from? How did they breach the north so fast? Where did the command to attack come from? The questions churn in my mind, but there’s no time for answers now.
A pained shout from Thynara draws my attention. She’s fending off three attackers, her agility unmatched but her strength flagging. Without hesitation, I surge forward, a wall of fire erupting between her and the insurgents. She nods, gratitude in her eyes, before diving back into the fray.
Through it all, I remain hyper-aware of Eirabella. She fights with a blend of raw determination and heart, even here, amidst death and chaos. But she’s still new to battle, and there are things she’ll only learn from surviving today. I watch her step between a fallen assailant and a Celadorn soldier, sparing the enemy’s life and earning a puzzled glance from the soldier. Compassion, even in battle—it’s who she is. And it is both her strength and her vulnerability.
Another wave of enemy soldiers crashes into our line, their Strength wielders smashing through the shield wall with terrifying force. The impact sends some of our men sprawling, and I grit my teeth, focusing every ounce of energy into a sweeping arc of fire that blazes across the ground, cutting a line that forces the rebels to halt or risk being engulfed.
“They’re so strong!” Doran shouts, his voice raw,sweat streaming down his face. He shifts his water barriers, redirecting streams that douse fires and sweep attackers off their feet.
“Keep pushing forward!” I command, and our line surges with renewed energy. The battle swings back in our favour, but I can feel the cost—see it in the weary eyes of the soldiers, the bodies littering the ground, the ragged breaths of the guards beside me. My mind races, calculating our next move. We have to end this soon. If they breach any further, the castle’s heart will be vulnerable.
Eirabella’s voice rings out as she stands firm, hands raised, manipulating a torrent of water to sweep away the oncoming attackers. The sight is awe-inspiring, a reminder of who she truly is: pure power and might, bound by an incomparably courageous heart.Mea valora.
And I know, just watching her, that she is everything this kingdom needs.
“Hold the line!” I shout, lifting my sword high, its flames blazing like a beacon against the darkening sky.
The battle is far from over, but we will not fall.
Not today.
FORTY-SIX
Eirabella
“Time to stop holding back!They’re crossing the bridge!” Rylan shouts as I shoot a barrage of ice spears at a line of attackers lunging for me.
I spin, eyes locking onto the makeshift ramp that the rebels have built, a crude structure that spans the river and extends into the chaos of our defence. Already, I see the Celadorn soldiers struggling to hold back the wave of rebels charging across it. My pulse quickens, and I realise what needs to be done.
“Stand back!” I shout to the guards around me, my voice firm, slicing through the noise. I glance at Thynara, her eyes wide and luminous with concentration. “Is there any way for you to pull our troops back from the ramp?”
Thynara’s gaze flickers with resolve. “I can try.”
I watch as our soldiers near the enemy’s makeshift bridge pause, their expressions blanking momentarily before their feet move, staggeringback as if compelled by an unseen force. Wow. Well, okay, now I know why Rylan brought her. It’s just a few moments, but it’s enough to create an opening for me. I take a deep breath, summoning the well of magic that churns at my core, feeling it spill into my fingertips, sharp and electric. The river answers my call, the water surging and swelling, roaring up in a torrent that reflects the wildness in my heart.
The first crash smashes down onto the ramp, rebels crying out as they’re swept into the raging current below. The wave surges forward, relentless. I breathe hard, every muscle tensed, feeling the power in my veins, raw and untamed. The bridge groans under the weight of my magic. The rebels slip, hands grasping at the air as they fall. But I’m not done. The magic demands more, clawing for release.
I raise my arms higher, eyes locked on the ramp that dares to hold its ground. The water roars louder, a tidal force poised on the brink. My pulse thunders, and with a surge that ripples through my entire being, I command the river. It obeys, crashing down with a force that sends tremors across the ground, splintering wood, crushing stone.
“I am limitless!” I scream, my very own war cry, the words cutting through the roar like a battle cry. The final wave smashes the ramp into jagged pieces, scattering debris into the churning water below.
The sudden silence on that front is deafening. I stand there, breath heaving, watching the water reclaim the remnants of the bridge. For a moment, the rebels hesitate, the momentum broken.
“Well, okay. I mean, I was... going to take care of that, but... I guess, never mind,” Rylan says, stepping up beside me, fireballs still flickering in his hands. His voice is light, but his eyes are full of admiration. I can’t help the grin that tugs at my lips.
But then the exhaustion hits, a sudden weight pressing down on me. My knees buckle, and the world tilts. Rylan’s armis around me in an instant, his hold strong, his eyes darkening with worry.
“You’re pushing too hard. Pull backnow,” he says, his tone urgent, protective.
Before I can respond, a deafening crash echoes from the East Tower. The ground shakes, and the noise of battle swells again, louder, more desperate. Rylan’s expression hardens, the brief moment of reprieve gone. He shouts to the soldiers still holding the line, “Stay! Don’t let them gain an inch!”
We break into a run, the sounds of the crumbling tower and renewed fighting propelling us forward. My limbs scream with exhaustion, but I push it down, clinging to the flickering embers of my power. The scent of burning flesh and the metallic bite of blood fill the air as we reach the East Tower, and the sight that greets us steals the breath from my chest.
The destruction is indescribable. Stone and debris and broken bodies are scattered like trash after a fair, smoke rising from the tower in thick, suffocating plumes. The ground is littered with the fallen, both ally and foe, their moans rising in a harmonic song of inhumanity. My heart clenches at the sight, but then I spot Mathis, battered but standing, his sword clutched in his hand. Relief surges through me, and I forget all protocol as I rush to him, pulling him into a fierce hug. His chest rumbles with a startled laugh, and I turn to Grellor, who is splattered with blood, pulling him into an embrace as well.
He grins, a wild gleam in his eyes as he notices me scanning his armour. “It’s okay, lass, it’s not mine. Some poor deluded soul thought he could sneak up on Mathis here, so I introduced him to Helena. Whounintroduced his head to his neck.”
I pull back, laughing despite his words. “Who is Helena, Grellie? You have a lady you haven’t introduced me to, you big buffoon?”
