The alarms tore through the night like a blade across glass.
Ashen charged down the battlements, boots pounding on cracked stone. Behind him, the fortress exploded into activity — soldiers scrambling to their posts, mages igniting the sky with defensive wards, healers preparing triage stations. The scent of magic thickened the air, sharp and metallic.
Beside him, Lyra kept pace, her face grim.
Even wounded, even missing a limb, she was a force.
Below, the ancient Seared One advanced, each step sending tremors through the earth. Its body was a patchwork of rotted armor and ancient flesh, stitched together with black mana so dense it warped the light around it. Its mouth was a gaping, screaming maw, spewing out plumes of shadow that smothered the ground.
Ashen reached the inner wall and drew in a deep breath.
His aura ignited.
It wasn't just the bright, silver blaze it had been before — now it surged with darker undercurrents, hints of blue and violet crackling through. The battle against Kael had changed him. Strengthened him. Deepened him.
He planted his sword into the stone, the blade humming with power.
"We stand!" Ashen bellowed. His voice carried through the courtyard, across the walls, into the hearts of every battered, bloody soldier who could still fight.
"We stand and we end this!"
A cheer, ragged but fierce, answered him.
Lyra smiled grimly and tightened the strap on her sword belt. "Just like old times," she said.
Ashen grinned back. "Except now the monster's bigger."
The ground shuddered again as the Seared One raised a monstrous fist and smashed it down upon the outer gate.
The wood and steel screamed in protest, splintering under the blow.
Ashen turned to Selene, who stood at the ready with the last of the fortress mages.
"Delay it. As long as you can. We'll need time to strike the heart."
Selene nodded, her pale face tight. "We can give you that."
Ashen gripped Lyra's shoulder briefly.
"You and me," he said. "We take the head."
Lyra's eyes gleamed. "Wouldn't miss it for anything."
Together, they leapt from the battlements into the chaos below.
The outer wall finally buckled under the second blow.
The Seared One strode into the courtyard, towering above the defenders.
It unleashed a deafening roar, one that battered against the mind as much as the body.
Soldiers staggered, some falling to their knees. A few broke and ran.
Ashen gritted his teeth, forcing his aura tighter around him, shielding his mind.
Lyra was already moving — a blur of silver and fire — leading a squad to intercept. Her blade sang as she cut down a smaller Seared spawn that had slithered forward, splitting it in two.
Ashen plunged into the heart of the fray.
Every step closer to the Ancient Seared One was like moving against a hurricane. Dark mana thickened the air, made breathing a struggle. Ashen's body ached, his old wounds screaming for attention, but he ignored them.
He had one goal.
End this.
Now.
The Seared One swung a colossal arm — a sweep that flattened a dozen defenders — and turned its soulless gaze upon Ashen.
Ashen raised his sword high.
The creature lunged.
Ashen leapt, aura bursting outward in a corona of silver and blue. He slammed into the Seared One's shoulder, driving his blade deep — but it was like stabbing stone. The ancient magic holding the beast together resisted him.
The creature roared in rage, grabbing at him with a massive clawed hand.
Ashen twisted away, landing hard on the ground and rolling to his feet.
Lyra was already there, driving her blade into the creature's knee joint. A black hiss of steam erupted from the wound, but the creature barely staggered.
"We need to get higher!" Lyra shouted.
Ashen nodded.
He sprinted toward the broken remnants of a watchtower, using the crumbling stone as a springboard. His aura wrapped around him tighter, boosting his speed beyond normal limits.
Lyra followed, agile and relentless.
From above, the mages unleashed another barrage — spears of fire, hammers of light — but they barely chipped the Seared One's ancient armor.
Ashen and Lyra reached the higher ground just as the Seared One wrenched a mangled ballista from the courtyard and hurled it like a spear toward the mages.
Selene threw up a shimmering shield in the nick of time, but the force of the impact sent her sprawling.
Ashen grit his teeth.
They were running out of time.
He turned to Lyra.
"I'll draw its attention. You strike the core."
Lyra's eyes flashed. "Ashen—"
He shook his head. "Trust me."
She hesitated. Then nodded once, fiercely.
Ashen launched himself into the air, gathering every ounce of mana he could muster. His aura flared into a radiant storm, painting the night sky in burning silver.
The Seared One turned, recognizing the threat.
It reached for him—
Ashen slammed into its chest, unleashing a shockwave that rocked the entire fortress.
Cracks spiderwebbed across the beast's armor.
Lyra saw her opening.
With a fierce cry, she hurled herself forward, driving her sword straight into the heart of the cracks Ashen had made.
The Seared One howled — a sound of pure, ancient agony.
Ashen dropped to the ground, panting, as black energy spewed from the creature's chest. It staggered, each step growing weaker.
Lyra yanked her blade free and retreated toward Ashen.
The Seared One fell to its knees, the dark magic holding it together finally unraveling.
Ashen raised his sword once more, channeling every last shred of mana he had left.
A final strike.
A blow to end it.
He dashed forward, aura blazing so bright the night seemed to turn to day.
And with a roar of his own, he drove his sword through the Seared One's collapsing chest.
The creature shuddered—
—and exploded in a storm of dark mist and broken light.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Ashen collapsed to one knee, gasping for breath.
Lyra knelt beside him, her remaining hand on his back, steadying him.
They had won.
For now.
But even as Ashen closed his eyes, he knew this wasn't the end.
Not truly.
Somewhere out there, Kael was still alive. Still plotting.
And worse... the shadow behind the Seared Ones, the true enemy, had only just begun to reveal itself.
Ashen opened his eyes.
He would not rest.
Not until every last threat was extinguished.
Not until they were free.