đź“–
By Victor Simdrix
Chapter 14 – Shadows at the Gate
The gates of Valebridge Fortress had stood for centuries, their black stone scarred by wars long past but never broken. Tonight, however, they shook beneath the march of Malakar's army.
The traitor's death had not stopped the flood of betrayal—it had only been the first crack in the dam.
Kaelith stood on the battlements, wind whipping his cloak, his eyes fixed on the dark horizon where torches burned like an approaching constellation of fireflies.
"Ten thousand strong," murmured Lucien Crowe, the spymaster, his voice carrying no tremor. "Malakar himself leads them."
The words cut like ice.
Kaelith tightened his grip on his sword. He had prepared for war, but not for the shadowlord to come so soon, so bold.
---
Inside the fortress walls, the royals gathered—King Aldros pale with age, Queen Seraphina steady though her hands trembled beneath her gown, and Princess Elira Wynn clutching a dagger far too ornate for real battle.
"This fortress will hold," Kaelith swore to them. "I will die before its gates fall."
But Nyra, standing at the edge of the chamber, her flame dancing faintly along her fingers, spoke words that silenced them all.
"It is not the walls Malakar comes for. It is me."
---
Night fell heavy and swift.
The army struck like a storm. Battering rams thundered against the gates. Siege towers clawed upward like skeletal beasts. Arrows blotted out the stars.
Kaelith commanded from the front, blade flashing silver through blood and ash. Darius Ember fought beside him, roaring like a man aflame with wrath, while the soldiers of Valebridge answered their prince with steel and fury.
But it was Nyra the enemy sought. Shadows slithered through cracks in the stone, wraiths twisting into shapes that no mortal weapon could cut. They swarmed toward her.
She met them with fire.
The courtyard blazed as Nyra unleashed the storm within her, a torrent of flame that devoured the dark and lit the night sky red. Soldiers paused in awe, enemies shrieked as they burned, and for a moment—it seemed she was the answer to all their prayers.
But then…
From the smoke stepped Malakar.
Cloaked in black armor that drank the firelight, his eyes glowed with a pale, hungry flame. His voice rolled across the battlefield, deep and cruel:
"Little spark," he called, his gaze locked on Nyra. "Did you think your fire could outshine the void? You were mine before you even knew your own name."
The words struck deeper than any blade.
Nyra's flame faltered. Her chest tightened. What did he mean—hers before she knew her name?
Kaelith saw her hesitation, the shiver that ran through her as if Malakar's words had pulled some hidden thread. And in that heartbeat of doubt, Malakar raised his hand—
And the fortress gates shuddered.
Stone cracked. Iron screamed.
Valebridge's walls were breaking.