Chapter 44
Xavier's POV
The dawn broke not with birdsong, but with silence. The valley lay drowned in a pale mist, a ghostly veil that hid the horizon from sight. Xavier sat on a low stone outside his tent, fastening the last straps of his armor. The steel felt heavier than usual, not because of his body's lingering weakness, but because of what it meant today. Today, there would be no turning back.
He touched the hilt of his sword, then let his eyes drift skyward. Somewhere behind that mist and beyond those hills, Luna was waking. Perhaps she sat in the garden, sipping her tea. Perhaps Andre was tugging at her sleeve, eager to play. He clenched his jaw. He wanted to be there, not here. But war had no mercy for fathers or husbands.
A rustle at the tent flap stirred him from his thoughts. Adrian entered, already armored, his expression taut. In his hands were the final reports: troop counts, ration checks, signal orders. He set them on the table but did not speak at once. "Say it," Xavier urged, fastening his gauntlet.
Adrian exhaled. "I was a boy when I first saw you fight. You were not just a commander to us—you were the standard, the one we all measured ourselves against. Even now, even with all that's happened, I… I need you to know that hasn't changed."
The words caught Xavier off guard. He studied the young man before him—broad-shouldered now, eyes tempered by both loss and hope. Adrian had grown, yes. But in this moment, Xavier felt the weight of the boy's trust pressing upon him. Xavier rose and set a hand firmly on his shoulder. "Then stand with me. Today we fight as one. And when the storm comes, you will not find me faltering."
Adrian's lips curved into a rare smile. He nodded. The horns of assembly wailed outside. The camp stirred like a waking beast—soldiers pulling on helmets, horses stamping, banners unfurling.
The army formed in ranks across the valley's edge. Steel glinted dully in the mist. The ground trembled under the shuffling of boots. Xavier mounted his horse, raising his sword high. "Men of the realm!" His voice carried, firm and unyielding. "The eyes of our families are upon us. The hearts of our children beat with ours. Today we stand, not for conquest, not for pride—but because if we fall, everything we love falls with us. There is no ground beyond this. Here, we hold. Here, we endure. Here, we triumph!"
A thunder of voices rose in answer. The valley quaked with their roar. And then—silence. Through the lifting mist, the enemy appeared. Banners black as stormclouds. Rows upon rows of armored soldiers. And at their head, a figure that made even seasoned men swallow their courage.
Cassandra POV
She rode a white charger, her crimson cloak trailing like spilled blood. Her face was carved in stone—serene, merciless, untouched by doubt. Her hand lifted, and her army stilled. For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Then her voice rang out, sharp as steel. "Crush them." The clash came like thunder.
The first wave smashed into Xavier's front lines. Shields locked, spears thrust, the air filled with screams and the ringing of steel. Mud churned beneath the weight of bodies. Arrows hissed down, embedding into flesh and ground alike. Xavier spurred forward, sword flashing. He carved a path through enemy ranks, each strike deliberate, each motion controlled. His body ached, his lungs burned, but his spirit roared louder than his weakness. Around him, his soldiers drew strength from his presence.
But Cassandra's hand was evident everywhere. Her forces moved like a single organism—disciplined, precise, merciless. From the left flank, fire-arrows arched high, setting wagons ablaze. Hidden drums beat, confusing the signals of Xavier's men. Every maneuver, every trap, bore her signature cunning.
Xavier's eyes found her across the chaos. She watched him, calm, as though studying prey. Then, with chilling ease, she drew her sword and rode into the fray herself.
Their paths met like two storms colliding. Xavier's blade crashed against hers in a spray of sparks. Cassandra's strength surprised him—not brute force, but speed and precision. Each strike was measured, designed to exploit his every flaw. She circled him like a predator, her smile sharp as her steel.
"You should have stayed in bed, warlord," she taunted, blades locking. "The world is kinder to ghosts than to broken men."
Xavier shoved her back, his eyes blazing. "Then you'll see how stubborn a ghost can be."
They clashed again. Steel rang, horses screamed, soldiers faltered to watch. Adrian's voice rose above the din, shouting orders to hold the line, giving Xavier the space he needed.
Cassandra lunged, blade grazing Xavier's shoulder. Pain flared, hot and sharp, but he pressed forward, driving her back step by step. She blocked, countered, swept low. Sparks flew as their swords slid against each other's edges.
For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to the two of them—the rival commanders, the embodiments of their armies' wills. But neither yielded. Neither fell.
At last, their blades locked tight, faces inches apart, breath mingling with the stench of blood and iron. Cassandra's smirk returned. "This is not your victory." Xavier growled through clenched teeth. "Nor yours."
They shoved apart, retreating into the maelstrom of their armies.
The battle raged on. Xavier fought at the forefront, driving his men forward with sheer will. His lungs burned, his vision blurred, but he refused to falter. Every swing of his sword was a promise—to Luna, to Andre, to the unborn child he had yet to hold.
Across the field, Cassandra rallied her soldiers with equal fire. Her crimson cloak was a beacon, her blade a scythe. She did not pursue him again; she had tested him, and now she played the larger game.
And then came the sound—deep horns, echoing from the ridges.
From the mist poured fresh enemy reinforcements. Cassandra's hidden reserves. They thundered into the valley, their numbers doubling the threat already at hand.
Fear rippled through Xavier's ranks. Men faltered, eyes darting, some stepping back. The line wavered.
Xavier's horse reared as he rode to the center, raising his sword high, his voice breaking through the storm. "We do not fall today!" he roared. "Not while I draw breath! Not while your hearts beat in your chests! Stand with me—stand for your children, your wives, your homes! The storm is upon us, but we are the mountain! And mountains do not bow!"
The soldiers' fear turned to fire. Their roar shook the valley once more.
Cassandra, watching from across the lines, tightened her grip on her reins. For the first time, her eyes gleamed not just with contempt, but with acknowledgment.
This was no broken man. This was a warlord still worthy of her steel.
The mist swirled. The horns blared. The battle was far from over.