The morning Solnera arrived, Grimwald woke to unnatural silence.
No factory bells rang their usual summons. No cart wheels rattled over cobblestones. Even the fog seemed to hold still, waiting. Elias stood at his window watching the empty streets, his six shadows already positioned in combat readiness.
Shade had spread itself thin, tendrils extending throughout the surrounding blocks, sensing movement. Crimson hovered in tight geometric patterns, calculations running constantly. Whisperfang's chains lay coiled and ready, humming with potential energy. Ember burned steady and controlled, the charm from Marcus helping it maintain balance. Hunger crouched alertly, its new archivist purpose giving it focus. And beneath them all, the Fifth's resonance pulsed stronger than ever—not yet manifested, but present.
The Codex lay open on the table, displaying a simple message:
Today, choices crystallize into consequences. Remember who you are beneath the power. Remember why you fight. Remember that survival without self is merely existence.
The Seventh will call to you. It will offer strength precisely when you most need it. Refuse. You are not ready, and binding during battle invites disaster.
Fight with what you have. Trust in preparation. And should the worst occur—know that you built something worth defending.
The words felt like farewell, though the book remained open and present. Elias touched the page gently.
"I'll try to make you proud."
The page rippled, warm beneath his fingers.
Mira emerged from the corner where she'd slept, already dressed and armed with her crossbow. "The silence is worse than I expected."
"Everyone who could leave did. Everyone who stayed is hiding." Elias pulled on Tam's mercenary coat, feeling the familiar weight settle on his shoulders. "Are you sure you won't evacuate? There's still time."
"We've discussed this. I'm staying at the guild's coordination center—safer than the streets, useful for communications." She checked her crossbow's tension. "Besides, someone needs to yell at you through Shade if you start doing something stupid."
Despite the tension, Elias smiled. "Fair enough."
Lyra arrived precisely at sunrise, carrying final intelligence updates.
"All three forces are in position. Harbor contingent is docked at the eastern wharfs—forty-two operatives confirmed, plus what looks like three Flamebearers. Eastern road force has established a camp outside the city walls—twenty-seven fighters, mostly conventional soldiers with some magic support. Northern canal force is smallest but most concerning—thirteen operatives, all appearing to be specialized mages or corruption specialists."
"Three Flamebearers at the harbor." Elias felt his stomach tighten. "I barely handled one."
"Guild analysis suggests they won't all engage you directly. Flamebearers have egos—they'll want individual glory, not cooperative tactics. Use that." Lyra handed him a small mirror. "Communication device. Speak into it and your words will reach the guild coordination center. Mira will be monitoring. If you need support or intelligence, she'll relay."
"What's the plan for the other two positions?"
"Guild security will engage eastern road force if they attempt to enter the city. Goal is containment, not elimination. Northern canal is trickier—we're establishing wards to counter their magic, but if they break through, we'll need you to respond."
"I can't be everywhere."
"We know. Priority is harbor. Keep their main force from establishing foothold, and the other two become manageable." Lyra's expression was steady despite the circumstances. "Magistrate Verne has confidence in you. So do I."
"I hope that confidence isn't misplaced."
"So do we all."
The Harbor
Elias reached the eastern wharfs as the sun broke through Grimwald's perpetual fog. The Solneran ships were impossible to miss—three large vessels flying Dominion colors, their hulls reinforced with what looked like fire-resistant plating.
Guild security had established a defensive line at the wharf's edge—ten guards in formation, looking severely outnumbered but disciplined. Their captain, a scarred woman named Revka, nodded as Elias approached.
"Voidsinger. Glad you're here—they've been organizing for the past hour. Haven't disembarked yet, but it's coming."
Elias studied the ships through Crimson's enhanced perception. Forty-two operatives visible on deck, arranged in assault formations. Three figures stood apart from the others, wreathed in flame that didn't consume them—the Flamebearers.
One was Caius, recognizable even at this distance. The other two were strangers, but both radiated the same controlled power that had made Caius so dangerous.
"They sent Caius back," Elias murmured. "Either to redeem himself or because he knows my capabilities."
"Probably both," Revka said. "Orders are to hold this position until you give the word. We're here to support, not lead. You're the strategic asset."
It felt wrong, having experienced fighters defer to a nineteen-year-old with weeks of combat experience. But they knew what he could do, had seen the reports of his victory over Caius. They were trusting in that power.
Elias just hoped he could deliver.
A voice carried across the water—magically amplified, clear despite the distance.
"Elias Veyrin, designated rogue binder. This is Commander Hadrian Vex of the Solneran Dominion's Pacification Corps. You are ordered to surrender the Codex and submit to binding. Comply, and no harm will come to Grimwald's citizens. Resist, and we will secure this city by force."
The voice was calm, professional, utterly certain of its authority.
Elias stepped forward to the wharf's edge, calling back without magical amplification—let them strain to hear him.
"Grimwald doesn't recognize Solneran authority. You're invading foreign territory. Leave now, and we'll consider this a diplomatic misunderstanding. Stay, and you're declaring war."
Silence for a moment. Then laughter—genuine amusement carrying across the water.
"War? One rogue binder and ten city guards against the Dominion's forces? That's not war, boy. That's pest control." A figure appeared at the lead ship's railing—tall, broad-shouldered, wearing commander's insignia. "But I appreciate boldness. It makes victory more satisfying."
He gestured, and the disembarkation began.
First Contact
The Solneran forces moved with military precision, forming ranks as they descended gangplanks. Forty-two operatives plus the three Flamebearers, organized into squads with clear command structure.
"That's more than forty-two," Revka observed. "They're bringing support personnel too—medics, engineers, maybe artificers."
She was right. Total forces approaching sixty, all trained and equipped for occupation work.
Elias felt the overwhelming disparity in numbers. Six shadows and ten guards against sixty Solneran professionals. Mathematics favored the Dominion significantly.
But mathematics didn't account for everything.
"Shade, Crimson—advance formation. Establish control zone." His shadows responded instantly, flowing forward to create a boundary thirty meters from the wharf's edge. "Whisperfang, defensive perimeter around the guards. Ember, stand ready for area denial. Hunger, archive everything—I want a record of this."
His shadows positioned themselves with practiced efficiency. The guild guards adjusted their formation, using Whisperfang's chains as anchoring points.
Commander Vex led his forces forward, stopping at the boundary Shade had established. Up close, Elias could see he was perhaps forty, with the weathered look of someone who'd spent years in military service. His eyes assessed the shadow-formations with professional interest.
"Impressive discipline. You've trained them well for having bound so recently." Vex's tone was almost conversational. "But discipline doesn't change the odds. Six shadows against three Flamebearers, forty-two operatives, and support personnel. Surrender now, and I'll ensure you're treated fairly."
"Define fairly."
"Trial in Solnera. If the Codex judges you controllable, training and supervision. If not, binding sufficient to render you non-threatening. Either way, you live." Vex gestured to the forces behind him. "Your alternative is fighting until we overwhelm you, likely dying in the process. Choose wisely."
It was a reasonable offer—more reasonable than Elias had expected. Solnera wanted control, not martyrs. They'd prefer to assimilate him rather than eliminate him.
Which meant they saw value in his capabilities. Value that could be exploited.
"I'll give you an alternative," Elias said. "Leave Grimwald. Report to your superiors that occupation isn't worth the cost. Find someone else to conquer."
Vex sighed. "I had to try. For the record, I respect your commitment, even if I disagree with your choices." He raised his hand. "Operatives—advance. Subdue the binder and his forces. Minimize casualties but establish control."
The Solneran forces moved forward as one.
And Elias's shadows met them.
Engagement
Shade struck first, expanding into a wall of darkness that swallowed the advance's front line. Operatives stumbled, blinded, weapons striking at shadows that weren't really there. Crimson darted through the confusion, precision strikes disabling knees and wrists—painful but not lethal, enough to remove fighters from combat without killing.
Whisperfang's chains lashed out, creating barriers and obstacles that broke the Solneran formation. Ember surged forward, walls of heat forcing attackers to divert around specific zones, channeling them into positions where Shade and Crimson could engage effectively.
The guild guards provided support fire—crossbow bolts and thrown weapons targeting operatives that Elias's shadows had isolated.
For the first minute, it worked. The Solneran advance stalled, fighters confused and disorganized, unable to bring their superior numbers to bear effectively.
Then the Flamebearers entered the fight.
Caius moved first, his fire-corruption still present but controlled better than before. Flames erupted along his path, forcing Shade to retreat or burn. His corrupted shadow lashed out at Crimson, forcing the precise shadow to dodge rather than attack.
The second Flamebearer—a woman with silver hair and eyes like molten gold—conjured barriers of crystallized flame, creating safe zones where Solneran operatives could regroup.
The third—a young man barely older than Elias, flames dancing across his skin without burning—targeted Ember directly, fire against fire-shadow, testing which hybrid form was stronger.
The battlefield fragmented into multiple engagements. Elias found himself fighting on three fronts simultaneously—his shadows engaging different threats while he tried to maintain coordination.
Through the chaos, Commander Vex advanced methodically, his own considerable combat skills carving through defensive positions. He wasn't a Flamebearer, but he didn't need to be—decades of experience and tactical expertise made him nearly as dangerous.
"Shade, reinforce left flank!" Elias commanded, feeling the strain of divided attention. "Crimson, intercept the silver-haired Flamebearer—don't engage directly, just disrupt. Whisperfang, contain Vex's advance. Ember, match fire with fire against their youngest—"
Caius broke through, flames carving past Shade's defenses. They stood face to face, barely ten meters apart.
"I told you I'd return," the Flamebearer said, flames intensifying. "Did you think Solnera would accept humiliation?"
"I hoped you'd learn limits."
"The only limit is power. And today, Solnera brings more than you can match."
Caius attacked, and Elias's world condensed to fire and shadows and the desperate attempt to not get burned alive.
The Grind
Combat became a grinding test of endurance. Elias couldn't defeat sixty opponents—he could only delay, disrupt, make victory costly enough that Solnera might reconsider.
His shadows worked continuously, preventing the Solneran forces from establishing formation, keeping them reactive rather than proactive. But the cost was mounting. Shade's edges were becoming ragged from repeated fire exposure. Crimson was slowing, precision degrading as exhaustion set in. Whisperfang's chains showed stress fractures. Even Ember's controlled burn was faltering under constant pressure from three Flamebearers.
The guild guards had taken casualties—three wounded, one seriously. Captain Revka fought with grim determination, but her forces were clearly outmatched.
Through it all, Commander Vex pressed forward with mechanical efficiency. He didn't grandstand or boast, just systematically dismantled defenses, getting closer to Elias with each passing minute.
Elias felt his concentration fragmenting. Too many threats, too many shadows to coordinate, too much happening simultaneously. Hunger nearly slipped control twice, its archival purpose forgotten in the chaos.
And then he felt it—a presence at the edge of his consciousness. The Seventh Shadow, drawn by violence and desperation, offering power exactly when he needed it most.
Bind me, it whispered. Bind me and this battle becomes manageable. Bind me and you win.
The temptation was overwhelming. Seven shadows would tip the balance, would give him the power to actually defeat these forces rather than just delay them.
But the Codex's warning echoed: Binding during crisis invites disaster.
He'd seen what happened with Hunger—hasty binding without proper preparation or understanding. Adding a seventh shadow now, in the middle of combat, while his attention was already overstretched...
"No," Elias said through gritted teeth, deflecting another of Caius's attacks. "Not now. Not like this."
The presence withdrew, disappointed but patient.
And the grinding battle continued, outcome still uncertain, costs still mounting, with no clear end in sight.