At the Edge of Zandara — Dawn
The sun rose crimson, as if wounded by the night. From the high cliffs of Kemetwa, Nalya could see the valley below, where thousands of soldiers stirred like waking beasts. Drums echoed in rhythm, sending signals through the wind — three beats for defense, two for silence, one for war.
Nalya stood atop the eastern tower of her citadel, cloaked in a mantle of leopard fur and obsidian feathers, eyes burning like coals.
She whispered to herself:
"If they cross that line, there will be no return."
Behind her, her most trusted general, Enar, approached.
"The spirits are restless, my queen. The priests say the dead no longer sleep."
"Because war has awakened them," she answered. "And something darker walks among us."
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Goryeo Encampment — Council Tent
In his war tent, Tae-jun observed the strange behavior of his troops. Soldiers whispered of shadows moving in their sleep, dreams of drowning in golden rivers, voices calling their names in languages they didn't know.
Tae-jun, now more cautious than ever, summoned his strategist, Baek.
"This is not war as we know it. Something else walks this land."
Baek nodded slowly, lips pressed tight.
"They say an invisible army surrounds us. No footsteps, no swords — only whispers. The same symbol carved into the corpse… was found on our flags this morning."
Tae-jun clenched his jaw.
"This is no queen's doing. It is sorcery."
⸻
Temple of Ancestral Echoes — Zandara
Far beneath the city, hidden by roots of ancient trees, the High Shamaness Nyara awoke from her trance, gasping.
She had seen the siege in her dreams — but not one of blades. Spirits of long-dead warriors, corrupted by the Warlock's magic, were gathering. They would rise at dusk and bring madness to the battlefield.
"You must warn the queen," said a novice.
Nyara shook her head.
"She knows. What she does not know… is that her enemy also suffers."
She stood, her staff pulsing with golden light.
"Tonight, I walk between both empires. Alone."
⸻
Twilight — The First Spiritual Strike
As the sun fell, the winds shifted.
Above the camp of Goryeo, the sky darkened unnaturally. Whispers danced across the air, heavy with languages forgotten. Fires flickered green. Horses refused to move. Men fell into seizures without wounds.
And then the shadows came.
Figures without eyes. Warriors made of smoke. Claws shaped from screams. They did not strike with swords, but with memories, dreams, fears — entering the minds of the men, showing them their deaths before they occurred.
Chaos exploded.
In the heart of it all, Tae-jun stood firm, sword drawn, eyes glowing faintly red.
He was resisting.
But he was also changing.
⸻
Zandara — The Gardens of Flame
Nalya stood barefoot in the gardens where no flame ever died. Before her, the pool reflected not her face — but his.
Tae-jun. Surrounded by spirits.
"They're attacking him too," she whispered.
"Because he has opened his soul," answered Nyara, who had arrived silently.
"To me?" Nalya asked.
Nyara gave a small nod.
"If you do not reach him now, he will belong to the spirits forever."
⸻
Moonrise — Battlefield Between Empires
The invisible siege reached its height. Men screamed in terror, blades clashing with the wind, striking nothing.
Tae-jun collapsed to his knees. Blood ran from his nose, ears, chest — but there was no wound.
A figure approached through the mist.
It was Nalya.
Cloaked in sacred fabric, anklets of bells announcing her presence, she walked through the chaos untouched. The spirits parted before her. Her presence was light. Her gaze, thunder.
She reached him.
Kneeled.
Touched his face.
And whispered:
"You are not alone in this land."
The whispers ceased.
The mist faded.
And both armies, watching from afar, fell into stunned silence.