Chapter 39 – Gildcrest in Flames
The sky was blood-red by the time Jean and her companions returned to the outskirts of Gildcrest.
What had once been a proud city—the eastern bastion of the Luther Clan—now burned beneath pillars of smoke. The sound of steel echoed through the streets. Civilians screamed. Aura clashed against magic in violent arcs. Banners flared in the wind—some bearing the golden sun of House Luther, others… the Black Fang.
Kael's voice dropped. "That's Sylas's crest."
Jean's blood ran cold.
From a hill overlooking the city, they watched as Sylas Luther, now fully clad in the darkened armor of his personal legion, led a brutal assault on the city's outer wards. His blade, Darkblight, screamed with each strike, cleaving through defenders like wheat.
"He didn't wait," Silvia growled. "He declared open war."
Cassien peered through a spyglass. "He has mercenaries, too. Shadow Guild sigils—he bought them."
Whitney's growl was deep, primal. "He's sending a message. He wants you to return and kneel—or burn."
Jean clenched Luxclade, the holy blade still wrapped in Martin's ancient cloth. "He'll get neither."
She turned to her companions. "We go in. We get the civilians to safety. We take back the city."
Kael raised an eyebrow. "Just the five of us?"
"No," Silvia said with a faint smirk. "The five of us… and the will of the First Patriarch."
The descent into the city was chaos. Fires raged unchecked. Squads of loyalists fought block by block. The Black Fang swept through with terrifying efficiency, executing those who resisted, converting those who didn't.
Jean's group moved like a storm.
Silvia carved a path through Sylas's vanguard, her aura igniting the night with red arcs of light. Kael and Cassien led evacuations, protecting children and elders. Whitney struck from shadows, his howls a warning and a promise.
Jean fought through the heart of the market district. Luxclade blazed in her hand, its holy aura clashing violently against Sylas's corrupted blade.
And then—she saw him.
Sylas. On the great staircase of the Eastern Spire, the seat of Gildcrest's command.
Their eyes met.
He smiled coldly.
"You found his tomb," he said across the square. "You think you carry his strength."
"I don't need his strength," Jean called back. "I have mine."
Sylas raised his blade.
"Then come take your city."
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