Chapter 17 – "When Ashes Refuse to Fall"
The battlefield burned.
The once-golden fields of Kareth were now a wasteland of blood, ash, and broken banners. The soil cracked beneath the weight of destruction, and the sky itself seemed to bleed as Solareth's defenders fell one by one. Screams echoed from all sides, some from the dying, others from those who still hoped not to join them.
Jessica wiped the blood from her cheek, her breath coming in sharp bursts. Her armor, once pristine white and gold, was now smeared with soot and streaked with crimson. Her eyes flicked across the chaos until they settled on him—Kris, blade in hand, face set with a grim focus.
"Kris! Behind you!"
She didn't need to shout twice. He pivoted just in time to block a jagged spear aimed at his spine, the metal screeching against his sword with a burst of sparks.
They had been fighting for hours now, and reinforcements weren't coming. Zagan was elsewhere, facing off against a godspawn. Vinam was gone. They were alone.
And that's when they arrived.
From the smoke strode two figures that bent the battlefield around them. Soldiers on both sides instinctively moved away, as if the air itself was warning them.
Nihra, the Silver Assassin. Cold eyes, long silver hair, twin blades that hummed with cursed wind. Her aura was still, quiet, and impossibly focused—a storm within a snowflake.
Vharok, the Mountain Breaker. A living fortress, nearly seven feet of armored fury with a jagged war axe dragging behind him like a giant's claw. The earth shook with every step he took.
Jessica stiffened.
"They're here."
Kris nodded, his fingers tightening on the hilt of his sword. "I'll take Vharok. You handle Nihra."
Jessica raised a brow despite the tension. "Confident."
"No. Just trying not to die."
She cracked a smile, short-lived but real. "Same."
Jessica shot forward like a bolt of flame, meeting Nihra midair. Their blades clashed in an arc of silver and orange. The wind screamed around them as cursed gusts met elemental fire. Sparks and light lit the darkened sky as their weapons collided, again and again, like lightning dueling in the storm.
Nihra said nothing. Her movements were clean, almost eerily silent. Jessica felt every strike cut the air too close. The assassin was fast—unnervingly so.
Jessica's blade weaved flames in the air, surrounding herself in a protective cloak of light. But Nihra sliced through the barrier as if it were mist. Each time their swords met, Jessica could feel the chill creeping down her spine.
Meanwhile, on the ground, Kris and Vharok were like opposing storms. Vharok swung his axe with reckless might, sending shockwaves through the cracked earth. Kris blocked and dodged, his arms shaking with each clash.
"You're the little prodigy they whisper about," Vharok growled, grinning beneath his massive helm. "Thought you'd be taller."
"And I thought you'd be smarter than dragging that oversized scrap metal around," Kris spat back, his blade parrying another crushing blow.
Jessica grunted as Nihra grazed her side. She fell back, landing roughly on a rock. Her vision blurred for a moment, but she pushed through the pain, her breath heaving.
"Your stance is weak," Nihra said at last, her voice devoid of inflection, like a machine reading poetry.
Jessica stood, blood dripping from her waist. "My heart isn't."
With a roar, she unleashed a burst of sacred flame. Nihra dodged, but the shockwave forced her back. The tide was turning—barely.
On the other side, Kris was bruised and bleeding. Vharok had landed a blow to his shoulder, and he felt the bone scream under the pressure.
"You're slowing down," Vharok taunted.
Kris didn't answer. He closed his eyes, breathing in. He remembered Vinam's words:
Control doesn't come from strength. It comes from choosing how to burn.
He opened his eyes, and something inside them shifted.
His blade began to glow, a soft blue aura wrapping around it like a whisper of destiny.
Jessica fell again. This time, she didn't rise so quickly. Nihra hovered above her, blades poised.
"Goodbye," the assassin whispered.
A streak of light surged from the distance. Kris, glowing with raw aura, intercepted Nihra's strike midair. Sparks exploded as their blades collided.
"You're not touching her."
Nihra narrowed her eyes, but didn't attack again. She floated back, watching.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Kris turned to Jessica, offering a hand.
"Can you still fight?"
"Do I have a choice?"
He smiled faintly. "Not really."
Behind them, Vharok roared and charged. Jessica fell to her knees, exhausted.
Kris stepped forward alone.
Their final clash shook the valley.
Kris met Vharok's strike head-on, his blade surrounded by an aura of pure intent. No rage. No fear. Just purpose.
The war axe came down with a weight that could split mountains. Kris sidestepped, using Vharok's momentum against him, and drove his blade into the commander's side. The metal cracked. Vharok gasped, stepping back.
"You..."
Kris twisted the blade, then pulled it free with a sharp jerk.
"That's for every life you crushed."
Vharok stumbled, dropped to his knees, and collapsed with a thundering crash.
The battlefield went still.
Jessica slowly stood, limping to Kris's side. Her breaths were shallow, her body burning, but her eyes shone with relief.
Nihra hovered in the sky, her face unreadable. She gave Kris one final glance.
"Perhaps... another time."
And with that, she vanished into wind and light.
The sun began to rise behind the smoke. The fires still burned, but the first rays of dawn cut through the ash.
Jessica leaned against Kris, both of them bruised, bloodied, but breathing.
"Not bad," she muttered. "For a reckless idiot."
Kris chuckled. "Thanks. You look like hell."
"And you smell like it."
They didn't laugh long. The silence after battle was always strange—like the world holding its breath. Kris looked over the ruined fields. So many lives lost. And this was just two commanders.
"They're getting stronger," Jessica said quietly.
Kris nodded. "So will we."
He looked toward the distant horizon, where darker forces still lingered. He didn't say it, but the weight was there.
Vinam was still gone. And something in the wind whispered: not for long.
End of Chapter 17