{THIRD PERSON POV}
The thunder of hooves drew closer like a steady drumbeat of doom.
Morganna slid down from her white horse, the hem of her cloak sweeping across the earth. She raised her voice above the chaos, her words echoing throughout the forest.
"All elder witches. Take the children and head southeast! Don't stop, don't look back! Run until your feet fail you if you must, but get them as far away from here as possible!"
Rhea broke through the surge of witches, her grey-streaked hair scattered as she rushed to Morganna's side. Her face was tight with fear.
"And what about you?" she demanded.
Morganna's gaze didn't waver from the horizon where black armored riders spilled like a flood into the valley.
"Don't worry about me," she said. "I'll stay back with the others. We'll hold them off to buy as much time as we can for you and the children to escape. NOW GO!"
Rhea swallowed, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. She hesitated for a heartbeat then turned, her voice sharp as she cried for the elders to gather the children.
Morganna spun back to the mass of witches, her voice ringing out loud for everyone to hear.
"All who can wield magic, mastered or not, fall forward! Form a line of defense, NOW!"
For a heartbeat, hesitation rippled through the crowd. Young witches exchanged fearful glances, their hands trembling with sparks they could barely control. But one by one they stepped forward, shoulders squaring, fear hardening into resolve.
The rows began to form.
Ragged at first, then solidifying as Morganna's presence steadied them.
The witches of Nevermoor descended into chaos. Mothers pulling their sons and daughters into desperate embraces, children screaming as they were torn away from their parents, the crowd parting in waves of panic.
A little girl, no older than six, clung to her mother's skirts, sobbing. "Mama, no! Don't make me go! I want to stay with you!"
The witch knelt, her eyes glistening with tears as she cupped her daughter's cheeks. She pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Hush now, little one. Be brave. I'll come find you soon, I promise."
Her tears slipped free as she tore herself away, thrusting the child into Rhea's arms.
For a heartbeat her face cracked with grief, but then she straightened, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. Her jaw set firm as she turned and ran forward to stand among those preparing for battle.
Riven's boots pounded against the ground as he rushed to his mother. He pulled Rhea into a tight embrace. "Please mother, be careful," he whispered in her ear.
Rhea cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. "I will."
Her voice softened, trembling. "Come back to me Riven."
"I will," he said, forcing a smile through the storm in his amber eyes.
"Promise?" Rhea asked.
"I promise." Riven replied, pressing a kiss on her forehead.
Then with one last look, he let her go, sprinting toward the gathering warriors.
Behind them, Rhea and the other elder witches led dozens of frightened children into the trees, their voices strained, urging them forward. The forest swallowed them as they went south-east, just as Morganna had commanded.
"Arch-witches!" Morganna bellowed. "To the trees!"
Vivienne darted forward at once. She and a dozen others scrambled up the tree trunks like monkeys, disappearing into the branches above.
But amidst the push and pull of bodies, Aurora was lost, caught in the chaos.
Witches rushed past her in every direction. Shoving her, colliding with her. A shoulder slammed into her chest, and she stumbled.
Before she could fall to the ground, a strong hand caught her, wrapping around her waist.
"Riven…" she gasped softly the moment she met his gaze.
His amber eyes burned into hers. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, breathless. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you."
His hand lingered for just a heartbeat before he helped her up then let go. His gaze flicked toward the gathering lines of witches ahead.
"Can you fight?" he asked.
Panic flickered across her face. "No. I don't know any spells. I can barely use my magic as it is."
The thundering of hooves grew louder, the treeline shuddering with its force as The Severance continued to charge forward.
For a moment, Riven's jaw clenched. Then he seized her shoulders. "Listen to me. Stay at the last line of defense. Don't move from there no matter what happens."
Her eyes widened. "What about you?"
He adjusted the scarf around his face, tugging it tighter, concealing the part of him that could never be revealed. His hand slid to the hilt of his sword, drawing it with a whisper of steel.
"Don't worry about me," he said, with a flicker of something soft in his eyes as he gazed at her. "I'll be fine."
And then he was gone, slipping into the ranks of witches forming the first line of defense.
At the very front, Morganna mounted once more, her white horse stamping the earth as if it also sensed the storm approaching.
Around her, the strongest warriors of Nevermoor readied themselves, their faces grim in the dim light. Morganna's heart thudded violently, but her eyes narrowed, not letting the fear take over her.
The witch hunters burst from the trees now, their banners flapping in the wind, their horses descending the slope like a tide of iron and muscle. Their helms hid their faces, but the malice in their advance was unmistakable.
Morganna rode along the front line, her voice a steady flame against the fear that gripped them all.
"Ready yourselves!"
The air crackled as magic surged to life in the palms of witches. Flames bloomed, shards of shimmering ice, whirling threads of wind, sparks of aether—all alive with power, all waiting for the command.
Riven lowered his stance, his blade angled forward, amber eyes locked on the incoming tide of hunters.
The ground quaked beneath the gallop of black horses.
"Hold!" Morganna roared, her hand raised high.
The riders drew nearer, their shouts a guttural chorus, their weapons raised to strike.
Aurora's breath caught in her chest.
Morganna's eyes narrowed, her voice breaking the morning like thunder.
"ATTACK!"