The night shattered with a roar. Smoke surged across the valley, swallowing torches, choking the air. The Ashbound camp erupted in chaos—shouts, steel clashing, fire sputtering against shadow.
Elira sprang to her feet, the crown blazing above her chest. "They're here!" she cried, her voice cutting through the panic.
From the smoke, the Smokebound poured in—solid now, their ember eyes gleaming, weapons forged from shadow itself. They struck without mercy, tearing through tents, scattering warriors.
Kael was already moving, blade flashing in the firelight. He cut down the first wave, his stance unyielding, his voice sharp. "Hold the line! Protect the Flamebearer!"
Elira's mark flared, fire spilling from her wrist. She unleashed a torrent of flame, driving back the attackers, but the smoke thickened, twisting around her, clawing at her mind. The crown pulsed violently, visions flashing—Kael falling, the Ashbound consumed.
She clenched her fist, forcing the fire outward. "Not this time," she whispered.
Kael fought beside her, steel and flame weaving together. For every shadow that struck, they answered with fire and blade. The Ashbound rallied, torches blazing brighter, voices rising in defiance.
But Marlic's laughter echoed through the smoke, sharp and cruel. His form appeared at the edge of the camp, ember eyes burning. "You saw this, Flamebearer. You saw them fall. And still you fight?"
Elira's fire surged, her voice steady. "I fight because they chose me. And I choose them."
The crown blazed brighter, cutting through the smoke. For a moment, the camp held—the Ashbound standing firm, Kael at her side, Elira's fire burning against the tide.
But Marlic raised his hand, shadow coiling into a storm. The true battle had only begun.