A rider charged through the gate, breath steaming from his horse. He dismounted before the guards could lower the bridge and hurried to Kaelin's side. His voice trembled as he spoke.
"They come from three sides, my lord. Fire from the south, stone from the west, lightning from the east. Three commanders. Three armies. They march to meet here."
Kaelin's fingers tightened on the frost-etched railing. The air around him dropped in temperature, frost crystals spreading across the wood.
He remembered the stories his mother used to tell, back when he was small enough to fit in her arms. Tales of the last time the Guilds had moved together, of how they had crushed entire provinces in a single season. He had thought them distant myths. Now, those myths walked toward his gates.
In the war hall, his generals gathered around the map table. The enemy markers, once scattered, now pressed inward like closing jaws. The Fire Guild's banners blazed along the southern approach, their soldiers dragging great iron cauldrons that spewed burning oil. From the west, the Stone Guild advanced in a wall of armored infantry, their boots pounding the earth like drumbeats. From the east, lightning split the sky over the vanguard of the Electrum Archons, their spears crackling with pale blue arcs.
Kaelin studied the table, then looked up. "They think numbers will crush us. They are wrong."
The room was silent. Even the wind beyond the windows seemed to pause.
Orders were given. Walls were reinforced with layers of ice. Caltrops of frozen steel were scattered across the snowfields. Watchtowers stocked with water barrels stood ready to smother flame. Along the western ridges, teams of frost-mages prepared to freeze the ground solid, slowing the advance of the Stone Guild's heavy troops.
By nightfall, the first enemy force reached striking distance. The southern horizon was ablaze, flames leaping higher than the tallest walls. Kaelin mounted the battlements, the glow of the firestorm reflecting in his eyes. The commander at their head was a tall figure clad in blackened armor, his gauntlets dripping molten sparks. He raised his arm, and a wave of fire surged forward.
Kaelin stepped to the edge. The wind bent toward him, pulling at his cloak. The memory of his first battle with a Fire Guild enforcer flashed through his mind — the searing heat, the helplessness as buildings burned. That had been the day he first froze a man where he stood. Now, his power was far greater.
He thrust his hands out, and the air before the walls shimmered with frost. The fire met it with a hiss like a thousand serpents, steam erupting into the night. The two forces of nature battled in midair, droplets freezing and shattering as they fell.
Before the steam could clear, the ground beneath the western wall began to quake. Stones rattled loose. Kaelin spun, eyes narrowing as the Stone Guild's siege columns came into view, their lead warriors striking the frozen soil with hammers the size of tree trunks. Each blow sent cracks racing toward the foundations.
And above it all, the sky lit with blinding white. From the east, the lightning commander had arrived, bolts raining down in long, jagged arcs, striking the defensive towers with deafening crashes.
Three fronts. Three enemies. All at once.
The storm inside Kaelin's chest began to rise, answering the chaos outside. He could feel the wind tugging harder now, the cold sinking deeper into his bones. If the Guilds had come to overwhelm him, they would instead learn what it meant to stand before the heir of ice and storm.
The night had only begun, and already the air was thick with fire, stone, and thunder.
The real battle was about to start.
...
The night roared with chaos.
Fire clawed at the southern walls, the ground shook from the west, and lightning split the eastern sky. The air was heavy with heat, ash, and the copper taste of storms. Kaelin stood on the highest tower, his cloak whipping in the wind, watching the Guilds' forces crash against the city like a tide of destruction.
His pulse was steady, but the cold within him was sharper than ever. He could feel every drop of moisture in the air, every current of wind curling through the battlefield. It was as if the storm itself was breathing with him. This was no ordinary battle. This was the test the Guilds had been waiting to give him, and it was the moment he had been building toward since the day he froze a street thug in the slums to save his own life.
A shout from the southern wall drew his attention. The fire commander's molten wave had broken through the first line of ice barriers. Soldiers scrambled to hold the breach, their shields glowing from the heat. Kaelin raised his hand. The wind surged toward the fire like a living thing, sweeping the flames upward into a spinning column. Above, dark clouds thickened, drawn into a tight spiral. Snowflakes began to fall into the fiery vortex, hissing and bursting into steam. The steam turned to frost as Kaelin willed the temperature lower and lower, until the flames themselves became brittle. With a snap of his fingers, the frozen fire shattered, scattering harmless embers across the snow.
The commander froze mid-step, disbelief flickering in his eyes. Kaelin's voice carried over the wall. "Your fire burns only if I let it."
Before the southern soldiers could recover, a deep rumble rolled from the west. The Stone Guild's siege hammers smashed through the outer barricade. Massive warriors, armored in slabs of granite, charged forward with slow but unstoppable force. Kaelin leapt from the wall, landing on the snow between the enemy and his troops. The ground trembled beneath him as the first stone giant swung his hammer.
Kaelin pressed his palm to the icy ground. The shockwave from the giant's strike raced toward him, but instead of shattering the ice, it froze in place. The force itself became visible, suspended in a crystalline ripple. Kaelin clenched his fist and the captured energy reversed, racing back into the giant's chest. The warrior flew backward, armor cracking like broken rock. The others slowed, uncertainty rippling through their ranks.
A crack of thunder tore through the hesitation. From the east, a spear of pure lightning struck just yards from Kaelin, splitting the snow and throwing up a wave of slush. The lightning commander descended in a blur of blue arcs, his weapon humming with deadly energy.
Kaelin's breath misted as he focused. He raised both arms to the sky, drawing the storm closer. The wind screamed through the battlefield, lifting loose snow into a blinding curtain. Lightning forked downward again, but this time it struck the arc of Kaelin's ice-sheathed arm. The bolt did not explode. It curled around him, captured in a cage of frost, then bent outward toward the fire commander in the south. The man had only a heartbeat to react before the Guild's own lightning slammed into him, dropping him to one knee.
The battlefield went still for a moment. Three fronts, three commanders, all staggered by their own power. Kaelin stood at the center, the air around him alive with a swirling halo of ice shards and wind currents. His heart pounded, but not from fear. This was something else, something deeper — the awakening of a new truth.
He had always thought his strength came from shaping ice and wind into weapons. Now he understood that he could take the power of others and turn it against them, bending the tide of battle itself.
Above him, the clouds rumbled in approval. Below, the enemy lines wavered.
Kaelin stepped forward, his voice low but carried by the wind. "This is my storm. You only fight in it."
The armies did not retreat, not yet, but the fear had settled in their eyes. The night was far from over, and Kaelin intended to end it with the Guilds broken.