By Victor Simdrix
Chapter 26 – Storm and Flame
The first strike shattered the night.
Kael's blade flashed like lightning torn from the heavens, a white arc that split the air. Nyra raised her hands, fire spilling from her palms in a roaring wave. Sparks met storm—flame against thunder—and the cobblestones between them cracked and smoked under the collision.
The market square filled with blinding light.
Nox Wilder darted aside, grinning like a wolf in the shadows. His dagger caught the glow of both fire and storm, his eyes alive with hunger. He didn't strike—not yet. He was waiting, circling, like a vulture savoring the fall of prey.
"Still clinging to your chains, Kael?" Nyra shouted, her voice trembling with fury. "Fighting for a council that fears its own people?"
Kael pressed forward, each strike precise, merciless. "I fight for Valebridge. For the people you endanger with every breath of your fire."
Her flames coiled into a serpent that lashed toward him. He cut through it, lightning crackling along his sword, scattering embers into the night air.
"You don't understand," Nyra cried, her chest heaving. "The fire doesn't destroy—it chooses! It chose me!"
Kael's face was a storm of conflict—duty clashing with memory, order battling with something unspoken. His voice hardened. "It chose wrong."
The words cut deeper than his blade ever could.
Rage roared through her veins. Fire erupted from her hands, swirling around her body until she became a living flame. The market stalls ignited, wood and cloth devoured in seconds. Shadows danced madly across the square as the inferno spread.
And that was when Nox struck.
He moved like smoke, sliding into the chaos. His dagger slashed across Kael's side, not deep enough to kill, but enough to break his rhythm. Kael staggered, his lightning faltering.
"Two sides of the same coin," Nox hissed, circling them both. "Storm and flame, tearing each other apart. And me? I'll be the hand that flips it."
"Stay out of this, Nox!" Nyra shouted, flames surging to drive him back.
But he only laughed. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of it."
The three of them clashed—storm, flame, and shadow colliding in a frenzy that shook the very stones beneath their feet. Every strike sparked explosions of light, every movement a dance of power and fury.
And high above, unseen by the fighters below, a figure cloaked in silver watched from the bell tower of the cathedral. A smile curved across their lips.
"The fire has finally met its storm," they murmured. "Let the game begin."