The night was thick with smoke and the stink of blood. Black Hollow trembled as the gates shuddered beneath the ram's thunderous blows.
Aron stood upon the wall, his sword slick with battle, his breath ragged. Below, his band fought like wolves cornered, blades flashing in the firelight.
"The gate won't hold much longer," Garron warned, wiping blood from his brow.
Aron's gaze swept over his people — tired, wounded, but unbroken.
"Then we meet them at the breach," he said. "And we make this night one they'll never forget."
---
The final blow came with a crack like lightning. The gate burst inward, splinters flying. The Scourge poured through, black armor gleaming beneath the burning sky.
Aron met them head-on, his blade rising and falling in deadly rhythm. His voice rang out:
"For the free! For the fallen!"
His words lit a fire in weary hearts. Garron fought at his side, axe carving a path through the enemy.
Lina moved like a shadow, her knives finding gaps in the Scourge's armor.
---
The rebels fought with the fury of the doomed.
Pitched battle filled the courtyard — steel clashed, men fell, the ground slick with blood.
But the Scourge was too many. Step by step, they pushed the defenders back.
On the tower, Mara tended the wounded, her hands steady even as arrows hissed past.
"Aron!" Lina called, breathless. "We're breaking!"
---
Aron knew it was true. But still he stood, blade in hand, refusing to yield.
"Hold!" he cried. "Make them bleed for every stone!"
And then — a horn's call echoed from the east.
The Scourge faltered, turning to see what new force approached.
From the trees burst a ragged host — villagers, hunters, outlaws, drawn by the prince's defiance. Word of Black Hollow's stand had spread, and the people had come.
---
With a roar, they fell upon the Scourge's flank.
The tide turned. The Scourge, caught between wall and wood, wavered. Some broke and fled; others fell where they stood.
Aron pressed the attack, driving them from the courtyard, out beyond the shattered gate.
---
When the battle ended, the ground lay heavy with the dead.
Black Hollow still stood — scarred, but unbroken.
Aron sank to his knees, exhausted. Around him, his people raised their voices — weary, but victorious.
---
Far away, upon a lonely hill, Jaren watched through the night's smoke.
His masked face showed no anger, only cold calculation.
"So be it, prince," he said softly. "The game deepens. Let the world cheer you. When I strike next, there will be no dawn."