Kael's hand pulsed with faint azure energy, tingling along his skin. His chest burned as he held his breath too long, panic rising faster than the magic itself. He didn't have time to think. Only to act. The snow swirled around him, tiny crystals suspended in the freezing air. Perfect, he thought. The cold made the water molecules in the air more obedient, slower, and easier to manipulate. He could feel them, tugging them like threads in a web, pulling them down to the ground.
Focusing, he drew the energy outward, weaving the moisture together, compressing it in a tight column. The molecules collided, locking into place as he shaped them. A spike of ice erupted from the ground, jagged, sharp, perfect. Somewhere behind him, a man screamed, a spear clattered to the ground, but Kael couldn't look back. The world narrowed to the charging beast and the spike forming under his will.
The shadowfang had charged recklessly, claws scrabbling against the snow on the ground. Kael leapt back, heart hammering. The lance skewered it in the stomach, pinning it. The beast howled, thrashing violently, claws raking, but it couldn't move. The lance held it fast, piercing its stomach and anchoring. It thrashed desperately, every muscle straining, but the lance was unyielding—there was no time, no leverage, nothing it could do to break free.
Kael's sword shook in his hand. He swung wildly at its head, strikes clanging and bouncing off bone, hitting again and again. By the fifth strike, his arms were numb, sweat and blood slicking his grip. It was like hacking at a carcass. He felt more like a butcher than a swordsman. Each blow sent shivers up his arms, but the creature stayed pinned, helpless against the lance. Finally, after a dozen desperate strikes, the head gave way with a wet, hollow snap. The sound turned his stomach, and warm gore splattered across his face. He staggered back, nearly dropping the blade. Blood oozes from the severed neck, mixing with the snow on the ground.
He staggered back, breath ragged, eyes wide. The ice spike gleamed in the moonlight, frozen molecules still trembling. The snow around him swirled like a silent witness to the precise control he held over the element and his terrible skill with the sword. He was covered in blood and gore, and after every hit, it splattered on him.
Kael wiped at his face, smearing blood instead of clearing it. His arms shook, the sword a dead weight in his hand. For a heartbeat, he thought the world had gone silent, until another scream cut the night.
His gaze snapped to the palisade.
There was a breach.
He didn't even notice when it had happened, whether the shadowfangs had torn through, or if the half-rotten logs had simply given way under their weight. All he knew was that the wall was broken, and the beasts had found the opening.
Lucas stood in the gap, shield raised, the only thing keeping the pack from pouring through. Two men already lay crumpled around him, their spears snapped like twigs.
The knight was unmovable. His blade and shield gleamed faintly, a pale shimmer clinging to the steel, like the sharpness was glowing. With every swing, it seemed to cut deeper, truer, as though guided by something beyond skill.
Kael's chest tightened.
The beasts slammed into Lucas's shield, claws screeching against his shield. His boots slid back in the snow until a pale glow flared along his legs, rooting him to the ground. For an instant, it was as if invisible chains bound him to the earth, refusing to let him yield more ground.
Lucas gritted his teeth, forcing the panic down, and drove forward. His sword sliced through fur and flesh with merciless precision. The beast shrieked, staggered, and fell, but he was already moving, the glow dimming around his legs as he broke into the next strike. There was hesitation in his eyes, yes, but also resolve. The oath dragged him past fear, past doubt. Every motion was clean, economical. Certain.
Lucas's strikes were precise, but Kael could see the edges of his control fraying. Each swing carried a flicker of hesitation, movements just slightly off. Panic was creeping back, fear whispering.
"Hold the breach!" Kael shouted, dashing through the snow toward him, heart hammering. "Just a little bit longer."
His hand pulsed with faint azure energy, tingling along his skin. Snowflakes swirled around him, tiny crystals suspended in the freezing air. The cold was an ally, making the water molecules in the snow heavier, slower, and easier to command. He could feel them, tugging like threads in an invisible web, bending under his will.
Kael's palms glowed as he drew the moisture from the ground and the surrounding air, weaving it together. Two jagged lances of ice erupted from the ground, piercing a shadowfang that was charging and blocking the breach. The pierce shadowfang thrashed, claws scraping, but could not break free. A few moments later was put down by arrows.
Behind them, Rhys charged, two guards at his side. Spears thrust through the gaps, pinning beasts that tried to sneak past, while Kael's lances forced others to pause just long enough for arrows to strike true.
Kael's chest heaved as he scanned the chaos. Around him lay the aftermath of the onslaught—shadowfangs sprawled across the snow, twisted and lifeless, some alive but pinned by the spears of exhausted guards, still thrashing. There, another slumped against the palisade, arrows buried deep in its flanks, crimson staining the snow beneath it.
Kael's eyes flicked to the breaches in the wall. One shadowfang had been shot down by archers before it could cross, its glowing eyes now dull, a stark contrast to the storm of chaos around them. Two more were hanging from the walls, arrows sticking out of their skulls, blood dripping on the ground from their mouths.
Then his gaze fell to a human figure. One of the guards lay crumpled among the bodies of fallen shadowfangs, a spear still clutched loosely in his hand. Claw wounds were visible on his neck, blood coated his chest, staining the snow as if the land itself had been wounded.
A shiver ran down Kael's spine. Another breach, this one closer, and the price had already been paid. A headless body lay just beyond the splintered wood, the snow around it spattered with gore. His stomach turned. The shadowfangs were clever, ruthless. They didn't just charge—they hunted, and the walls were porous, each fracture a potential death trap.
Kael's hands tightened on his sword. Each breath came ragged, each heartbeat thudding in his ears like a drum.
Kael's hands trembled on the hilt of his sword. His chest heaved, lungs burning, but there was no time to rest. The snow around him shimmered with the fallen and the dying, the silence between screams feeling like a knife. He had to get stronger—he couldn't afford hesitation like this again.
The thought gnawed at him: this battle isn't over. Shadowfangs still prowled through gaps, snarling, eyes glittering in the pale moonlight. There were more of them out there, but their number was small. He had enough mana for only one more spell. One chance to do something useful.
Kael swallowed, forcing himself to focus, to push past the terror clawing at his mind. He had to act, to move, to do something. The icy glow along his palms pulsed faintly, the last reserves of his magic responding to the tension coiling inside him. Sweat and blood slicked his skin, but he forced himself to steady his grip.
The thought struck him hard: I am not ready. Not even close. But I can't falter. I won't.
As he raised his hands, icy energy humming along his palms, a single, sharp thought struck him: I need to let go of the past.
Kael's gaze swept over the battlefield. At the breach, Rhys and two guards held their ground, spears braced against a shadowfang pinned against the palisade, claws thrashing uselessly. Lucas moved like a blade through chaos, and with a single, precise swing, he drove his sword through the creature's neck. The head fell to the ground, blood spraying, the body slumping against the spears holding it in place.
One guard's jaw was tight, eyes wide with fear, but he planted his feet and pushed forward, refusing to let terror dictate his stance. Another gritted his teeth, muscles taut, heartbeat loud in his ears, determined to hold the line even as the snow beneath him was slick with blood.
Kael's eyes flicked to the newest breach. Three guards formed a tense line, weapons ready as arrows hissed overhead, embedding themselves in the ground and the shadowfang that was approaching the breach. Their faces were taut with fear, but their will to hold the line was unbroken, buying precious moments.
Kael's hands tightened on his sword, the last of his mana thrumming faintly along his palms. One chance. One move.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, fleeting but insistent, the thought returned: I need to let go of the past.