When the high elves saw the massacre unfold in the valley below, they knew. Their silver helms caught the dying light as they stood frozen on the rise, watching ten legions of Dazhum soldiers and the remnants of the Zhong exiles buckle and break. Screams echoed across the snow, and still the Stormguards advanced.
The high elf commander did not hesitate. "Sound the retreat!" he roared.
A single horn blast pierced the chaos. Then they turned. One legion, whole, and the remnants of another fled west into the hills. They abandoned the field, abandoning the allies they'd once stood beside.
But the hills held no safety.
As they broke from the ridge and galloped through frost-slicked gullies and narrow passes, shapes moved in the shadows. Arrows whistled. Riders cried out. The Virak'tai emerged from the pines like wraiths, blades drawn, no banners, no mercy.
The retreat became a rout.
Ilvren crouched low on a ledge of shale and ice. Her breath came slow and cold through the fabric wrapped around her mouth. She watched the high elves scatter like deer.
"Signal Warden Kael. The prey runs."
Her partner loosed a single falcon-feathered bolt into the sky.
Moments later, it began.
From the western hills, a phalanx of Virak'tai swept down into the fleeing column, spears braced, blades gleaming with dusk-oil poison. One high elf reined in to parry, but his mount was gutted before his sword cleared the scabbard. Another dismounted to rally the rear guard, only to be dragged down by six Virak'tai from the snow.
Ilvren surged forward—spun beneath a spear thrust, sliced a thigh, then vaulted onto the dying mount's saddle to plunge her second blade into the rider's throat. The horse bucked, she leapt clear, and rolled back into shadow.
Everywhere, blood misted the frost.
Caerith had trained for a century. His legion had drilled through storms, wars, and winter. But nothing had prepared him for this.
"Shields! Hold the left!"
They were already dead. The Virak'tai moved too fast, too fluid. Their armor blended with the rocks and their blades found every gap in the silvered plate.
A rider fell beside him, his face split open. Caerith screamed for a regroup. He cut down two attackers, kicked his mount into a gallop, and drove his remaining troops toward the caldera.
They had marched to war as allies. But the banners they'd trusted were nowhere in sight. Not a single horn. Not a single rescue.
They reached it at dawn. But there was no safety there.
The basin stretched wide before them, filled with death and silence. Snow clung to broken helms and charred pikes. Shattered spears and twisted bodies lay half-buried in the red-flecked frost. The caldera was a scar, silent, wide, and grim.
Some riders stumbled as they ran, boots catching on frozen limbs. One elf slipped, crashing into a mound of corpses. Another choked back bile at the sight of a shattered face staring up from the snow, eyes still open.
They pressed forward.
Crows scattered ahead of them, rising in thick black waves. The stench was unbearable. Caerith pulled his scarf tighter and pressed on.
No one spoke. There was nothing to say.
By the time they reached the far ridge, the survivors had lost nearly half again to ambushes and panic. Some fled wrong turns. Some froze. Most were cut down by blades they never saw.
They descended through the gorge and into the misty grove. Frost-wilted trees whispered in the wind. Shadows shifted between the trunks. Once, Caerith saw a glint of eyes, watching.
By the time they broke from the grove, what remained of the high elves reached the plain, the last stretch before the Kaldoran Strait.
There, where the inlet curved against the coast, they saw what awaited them.
Thirteen captured ships flew the banners of the Eastern Realms. The base had been taken. Its walls smashed. Its stores razed. Blacksteel spears lined the road like grave markers.
And standing at the head of a full legion of Virak'tai was Kael.
Caerith's horse stumbled. He hauled it upright. His men faltered behind him. Some dropped weapons. Some screamed. A few ran straight into the sea.
Kael stepped forward, voice cutting the wind.
"No mercy."
The last half of the high elf legion was butchered on the shores of the Kaldoran Strait.
They came to the Eastern Realms to destroy the Virak'tai. Now they were dying to them instead.
Snow turned red. Ash curled into the sky. And the hills went quiet once more.
Kael reported the destroyed base, the captured triremes, and seized supplies. Redistribution began under Altan's command. Per orders, a Virak'tai legion remained stationed at the misty grove, joined by two Free Cities legions, to hold the western shores and monitor any movement.
A detachment of elite Qorjin-ke scouts was dispatched to patrol the coasts.
Recovery efforts began. The battlefield was a frozen grave. Dazhum and Zhong corpses were buried with rites, where possible. The high elves, per custom and command, were burned by warmages in pyres of blue flame.
All salvaged weapons, armor, and broken steel were gathered. Daalo, chief engineer and master craftsman, was given charge. The spoils of war would be reforged, new arms for the legions to come.
The snow fell silent again, blanketing ash and blood alike.
Beyond the caldera, on a high ridge overlooking the basin, stood Altan.
With him were the Stormguards. At his side, Warden Wen Tu knelt, hands resting atop his barksteel war staff. The remaining disciples stood close behind, Bruga, Nyzekh, and Ryoku, each marked by their distinct presence and silence.
The wind curled through them.
Altan looked down at the field of the dead. His eyes held no triumph.
He turned to Wen Tu. No words were needed. Wen Tu nodded once, deeply, then stepped forward. His breath stilled. He lowered to one knee and pressed his palm to the frozen ground.
A low vibration hummed.
The earth beneath the caldera stirred. Roots, ancient and gnarled, emerged from the soil. They slithered between corpses, wrapping and pulling them down. Bones, blades, and broken helms vanished beneath moss-veined tendrils. The roots devoured everything, not in rage, but reverence.
A single path formed in the center.
Years later, pilgrims would walk that grove in silence. No statue stood, no inscription carved—but the trees remembered.
And still, on that ridge, Altan stood, watching, silent, unmoved.
Author's Note:
Tactical Review and Casualty Ledger of the 9 Days War
Tactical Overview
Altan never aimed to match the Dazhum Empire in strength. He engineered a war of erosion.
The empire marched north with twenty-two legions, including high elven vanguard units and allied Zhong exiles. They were well-trained—and overconfident. Their pride slowed their response. Their supply lines thinned with every step.
Altan bled them in pieces.
His campaign relied not only on terrain, attrition, and mobility but on misdirection. After Misty Grove, Qorjin-ke scouts and Stormwake's Whispershell agents recovered neural remnants from fallen Dazhum officers. Within them were high-level command protocols.
Using these codes, Altan's war council forged a withdrawal order, directing the southern fleet attacking Tidescar to reinforce the main army. The forgery passed all cipher verifications. When the order reached the Kaldoran forward base, it was followed without question.
Those six legions, exhausted and bloodied, sailed straight into the jaws of the final battle.
Altan had baited them into slaughter, using the empire's own command chain against them.
When Stormwake asked if their arrival would shift the balance, Altan's reply was final:"We need the ships."
He had already won.
Visual Appendix
To better understand the force disposition and final maneuvers, a battle map of the Final Engagement at Gravemarch Plain (Day 9) is available on Royal Road under the same title and author.
It outlines both Dazhum and Coalition formations as the last legions of the empire advanced into the kill zone.
Use this map to follow Altan's final strategy and see how the battle was won before the first horn was sounded.
Casualty Ledger of the 9 Days WarDazhum Empire Forces
Initial Strength• 20 human legions• 2 high elven legions(Each legion: ~5,000 to 6,000 troops)Total: 22 legions (~121,000 to 132,000 troops)
Reinforcement Fleet (from the southern coast)• 4 human legions• 2 Zhong exile legionsReinforcement Total: ~6.5 legions (~35,000 to 38,000 troops)
Estimated Dazhum Dead and CapturedDay 1 – Misty Grove Massacre: ~24,000 dead(Four legions collapsed in forest combat and ambush) Day 2 – Insect Sabotage: ~1,000 dead(Poisoned rations, hive detonations, and chaos among quartermasters) Day 3 – Hills Ambushes: ~2,500 dead(Hit-and-fade strikes, mines, and collapsing ridge paths) Day 4 – Southern Shore Slaughter: ~3,500 dead(Rearguard annihilated during retreat and naval repositioning) Day 5 – Napalm Bombardment (failed offensive): ~200 dead(Advance stalled by flame wards and misfired munitions) Day 6 – Bruga's Counterattack during the Siege: ~6,500 dead(Most casualties from trapped spearheads and broken centerlines) Day 7 – The Caldera (Stone Bowl Massacre): ~32,000 dead or captured(Eight legions entered. Fewer than 500 escaped. Few died clean.) Day 9 – Gravemarch Plain: ~21,000 to 24,000 dead(Final assault destroyed most of the remaining southern reinforcements)
Total Estimated Dazhum Dead or Captured:~90,700 to 93,700
Of the original 22 legions, fewer than five remain combat-capable.The rest were shattered in the Caldera or broken beyond reform.From the southern fleet, four to five legions were lost before achieving full deployment.
Altan's Coalition Forces
Command and Force Breakdown• Nyzekh – Commander of the Virak'tai Legions (3 legions)• Bruga – Warlord of the Skarnulf Clans (3 legions)• Stormwake – Silent Hand of the Qorjin-ke Scouts (~1,000 elite)• Wen Tu – Grandmaster of the Stormcasters (mages, healers, geomancers)• Daalo – Chief Engineer of siegecraft and arcane logistics• Commander Varin – Free Cities Regular Army (3 legions)• Ryoku – Warden of the Stormriders (3 legions: 1 heavy cavalry, 2 light)
Coalition Dead and WoundedDay 1 – Misty Grove: ~2,000 killed Day 3 – Hill Skirmishes: ~700 dead Day 4 – Defensive Maneuvers: ~200 dead Day 5 – Fire Warding: <50 casualties Day 6 – Trench Warfare and Counterattack: ~1,800 dead Day 7 – Caldera Engagement: ~1,400 killed or wounded(Most casualties from flanking formations and Ryoku's cavalry charge) Day 9 – Gravemarch Plain: ~1,100 killed or wounded
Total Estimated Coalition Dead or Wounded:~7,250 to 7,300
Forces Remaining After Day 9Virak'tai Legions: ~2.5 legions• Skarnulf Clans: ~2.4 legions• Stormguard Infantry: ~3.25 legions• Stormriders Cavalry: ~2.2 legions• Free Cities Regulars: ~2.1 to 2.3 legions• Stormcasters (mages): ~700 battle-capable• Qorjin-ke Scouts: ~950 scouts remaining
Total Coalition Combat Legions Remaining:~12.8 to 13.0(Excluding support units and reserves. Most elite formations remain intact.)