Elion's hand remained on the control pedestal through the night. By dawn, he still hadn't activated the crystal matrix. The weapon remained dormant, its power contained.
He'd made his choice—no super weapons. Whatever came next, they'd face it without Luminari power.
The decision felt simultaneously noble and foolish.
He emerged from the arsenal to find the settlement in final preparation. Fighters checked weapons one last time. Shadow soldiers stood at defensive positions, motionless and ready. The walls were lined with archers, the gates reinforced with everything they could find.
"The fleet's on the horizon," Kael reported. "Ninety ships, exactly as scouts predicted. They'll be in assault range within two hours."
"Everyone knows their positions?"
"Yes. And everyone knows the evacuation triggers. When you give the word, we execute the retreat plan."
Elion climbed to the highest watchtower, looking out at the approaching armada. Ninety Imperial ships, thousands of soldiers, mages and siege engines and artillery. It was beautiful in a terrible way—the culmination of Imperial power, focused entirely on destroying everything he'd built.
"Impressive," Mira said, joining him. "In a horrifying way."
"Last chance to evacuate," Elion said. "You don't need to be here for this."
"Yes, I do. Someone has to witness. Someone has to remember." She smiled slightly. "Besides, I'm not leaving you to die alone and make it some tragic hero story. If you're staying, I'm staying."
"That's probably the most touching death pact I've ever heard."
"I'm sentimental that way."
The Imperial fleet reached assault range. But instead of immediately attacking, they held position. A single ship broke formation, approaching the harbor.
"They want to talk," Kael observed. "Again. They really love their dramatic ultimatums."
The ship docked, and an officer came ashore—not Lord Meridian this time, but a hard-faced woman in admiral's uniform. She carried herself with absolute confidence.
"I am Admiral Sevara Kane," she announced. "Commander of the Third Imperial Expeditionary Fleet. I have orders from the Emperor himself."
"Let me guess," Elion said. "Surrender or die?"
"Surrender and die," Kane corrected. "The Emperor's patience is exhausted. There is no mercy option. I'm here to inform you that you have one hour to evacuate all non-combatants. Anyone remaining after that deadline is considered a hostile combatant and will be treated accordingly."
"That's... surprisingly merciful," Mira said.
"It's not mercy. It's precedent. The Emperor wants the League's fighters destroyed, not children and elderly. Killing civilians would create martyrs and complicate future occupation." Kane's expression didn't change. "One hour. Get your innocents out, then we'll discuss terms for the fighters."
"There are no innocents here," Elion replied. "Everyone you see chose to stay and fight. We evacuated non-combatants weeks ago."
Kane's eyebrows rose slightly. "You evacuated thousands of people without us noticing until too late. I'm genuinely impressed. That level of operational security is rare even in professional militaries."
"We learn fast."
"Apparently. Very well—if there are no civilians, then we proceed directly to combat operations. You understand you cannot win?"
"We understand we'll make you bleed for every inch."
"I expect nothing less." Kane actually smiled. "For what it's worth, Baron Crestfall, I respect what you've built. In another world, we might have been allies. But in this world, I have orders to destroy you."
"Then let's not waste time with pleasantries."
Kane returned to her ship. Within minutes, the Imperial fleet began its assault.
This time, there were no beach landings. The Empire had learned that lesson. Instead, they positioned ships in a wide arc and began systematic bombardment—magical artillery, siege engines, and conventional weapons all targeting Shadowhaven's defenses simultaneously.
The walls took the first hits. Explosions rocked the fortifications, sending stone and wood flying. Defenders ducked behind cover as fireballs arced overhead. The noise was deafening—constant thunder of impacts, cracking of stressed timber, shouts of fighters calling warnings.
"Return fire!" Kael commanded. Archers launched volleys at the Imperial ships. Ballistas shot steel bolts. It was like throwing pebbles at a mountain—they inflicted some damage but couldn't stop the bombardment.
Shadow soldiers couldn't reach the ships at this range. They stood ready on the beaches, waiting for landing forces that weren't coming.
"They're not going to assault," Elion realized. "They're just going to bombard us into rubble. They don't need to risk soldiers when they can destroy us from range."
"Can we counter that?" Mira asked.
"Not really. We're designed for close defense, not artillery duels."
The bombardment continued for three hours. Sections of wall collapsed. Buildings burned. Defenders were killed by debris and explosive force. The shadow soldiers were largely unaffected—physical destruction couldn't hurt them—but the human fighters were taking casualties.
"We need to force them to engage," Elion said. "Give us a chance to fight back."
"How? They're sitting comfortably out of range, turning our settlement into rubble."
An idea formed—risky, possibly suicidal, but their only option. "The shadow soldiers can swim. What if we send them to attack the ships directly? Board them, create chaos, force the fleet to deal with close combat?"
"That's sending your army on a suicide mission," Kael said. "Those ships have hundreds of soldiers aboard. Even shadow soldiers will be overwhelmed."
"But not before causing damage. And it's better than sitting here being bombarded to death."
Elion reached through his mental link. All shadow soldiers—enter the water. Swim to Imperial fleet. Board ships, engage crew, create maximum chaos. Priority: Survive and inflict damage, in that order.
One hundred and ninety shadow soldiers poured into the water, swimming toward the fleet with supernatural speed. The Imperial forces noticed immediately, but had no effective way to stop them.
Shadow soldiers began boarding ships, climbing anchor chains and hull planking. Once aboard, they attacked with lethal efficiency. Sailors who expected distant bombardment suddenly faced supernatural warriors appearing from the water.
Chaos erupted across the fleet. Ships stopped firing to deal with boarders. Flames spread as shadow soldiers set fire to rigging and supplies. Several ships collided trying to maneuver away from the threat.
"It's working," Kael said with grim satisfaction. "We've disrupted their bombardment."
But the cost was high. Elion felt shadow soldiers being destroyed—overwhelmed by sheer numbers, cut down by concentrated attacks. His army was diminishing fast.
Then Admiral Kane adapted. Ships with shadow soldiers aboard were ordered to withdraw. The rest of the fleet repositioned, resumed bombardment at different angles. Within twenty minutes, the effective assault was over—shadow soldiers were either destroyed or trapped on isolated ships being pulled away from the main fleet.
Elion had lost seventy shadow soldiers—over a third of his army—and gained only a temporary disruption.
"That didn't work as well as hoped," Mira observed.
"No. But it bought us time." Elion looked at the damaged settlement. Half the walls were destroyed, a third of buildings were burning, and they'd lost maybe fifty fighters to bombardment. "Time to evacuate. Trigger the retreat protocols."
"Already?" Kael protested. "We can still fight."
"For what? So we can all die gloriously? No. We've made our stand, shown our defiance. Now we save who we can."
He activated the communication crystal, reaching New Frost. Kira appeared, and she looked terrible—covered in frost-blood, one arm hanging limp.
"New Frost is falling," she reported. "The northern fleet bombarded our ice walls until they shattered. We held for six hours but they're breaching the city now. I'm ordering evacuation."
"Get to safety," Elion said. "That's an order from one System Bearer to another. Survive."
"You too."
The retreat began. Fighters fell back through prepared routes, moving toward the harbor where boats waited. Shadow soldiers—the one hundred and twenty still functional—covered the withdrawal, fighting delaying actions against Imperial forces who were finally landing.
Elion was among the last to leave. He stood at the settlement gates, watching Imperial soldiers pour onto the beaches. They'd won. Shadowhaven was lost.
He turned and ran toward the harbor, shadow soldiers protecting his retreat. Behind him, the settlement he'd built—the dream he'd led thousands to believe in—burned under Imperial assault.
The boats launched into dark waters, carrying survivors toward the Sanctuary. Three hundred and eighty fighters had defended Shadowhaven.
Two hundred and fifteen escaped.
The cost of resistance, measured in the dead and missing.
But they'd survived. The Sovereign League endured, even if its settlements burned.
That would have to be enough.