The shattering of Captain Kross's shield sounded like the death knell of the High Citadel's influence over the Iron Pass. The soldiers stood frozen, not just from the Absolute Zero creeping up their greaves, but from a paralyzing realization: the sun they served was dimming.
Captain Kross struggled to his feet, his breath coming in ragged, white plumes. His lion-shaped helm was cracked, revealing eyes filled with a desperate, fractured pride. He looked at his shattered mace, then at the man in the midnight-black tunic who hadn't even broken his stride.
You... you are a relic! Kross spat, though his voice lacked its former thunder. This world has moved on! The Queen gave us order! She gave us a sun that never sets!
Clevatess stopped and looked up at the Sky-Reaper circling above. The vessel was beginning to descend, its brass hull groaning as it tried to stabilize in the freezing air. The orange glow of its engines was flickering out, unable to find purchase in the vacuum of heat Clevatess had created.
A sun that never sets is a sun that burns the soil to ash, Clevatess replied, his voice calm yet carrying to every soldier in the pass. Order without growth is just a decorated grave.
He turned his gaze back to the soldiers. The violet aura around his feet flared, sending a wave of frost that bypassed the men but struck their weapons. Swords, lances, and crossbows turned white with rime. One by one, the soldiers dropped their gear, the metal too cold to hold.
The shadow is not your enemy, Clevatess announced, his raven-feather mantle catching the wind. The shadow is where you rest when the work is done. Go. Leave this pass and tell your families that the winter is not a curse. It is a homecoming.
Kross looked at his men, then back at Clevatess. He saw no malice in the King's eyes, only a weary, ancient truth. With a shaky hand, the Captain unlatched his broken breastplate and let it fall to the stone with a heavy thud. He didn't say a word. He simply turned and began the long walk south, his soldiers following him in a silent, golden retreat.
As the last of the Vanguard disappeared into the mist, a sharp piercing whistle cut through the air. From the observation deck of the Sky-Reaper, a silhouette watched them. It wasn't a soldier, but something leaner, wrapped in shimmering robes that seemed to shift like a desert heat haze.
A Shadow's Call, Alicia whispered, drawing her blade. The Queen isn't just sending soldiers anymore. That is a Sun-Weaver.
Clevatess didn't look worried. He looked ready. The pass was silent, the air was cold, and the real war for the kingdom had finally begun.
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