The detachment moved at dawn, banners snapping in the cold wind. The Iron Pass loomed ahead jagged cliffs rising like teeth, the narrow road choked with rubble.
Kael rode beside Garrick, Tharos's talons crunching stone. Soldiers glanced at him with unease, whispers rippling through the ranks. Some carried hope in their eyes, others suspicion.
Rowan rode at the front, his smirk hidden behind courtesy. He spoke loudly enough for the men to hear.
"Remember, this is no ordinary mission. A single mistake, and the Empire bleeds."
Kael clenched his jaw. Rowan's words were daggers, meant to cut trust before the battle began.
At the mouth of the pass, rebel banners unfurled. Mantises clung to cliff faces, beetles charged across the narrow road. Arrows rained down from above.
Kael raised his sword. "Shields! Hold the line!"
The soldiers obeyed, though hesitation lingered. Rowan barked orders of his own, deliberately conflicting. Confusion rippled through the ranks.
Kael's heart pounded. If I falter now, Rowan wins.
He spurred Tharos forward, wings igniting. The beast's fire swept across the cliff, scattering archers. The soldiers rallied, their fear turning to awe.
Midway through the battle, Kael ordered a push through the choke point. Rowan countered, shouting for the men to retreat.
"Fall back!" Rowan cried. "He'll burn us alive!"
The soldiers froze, torn between voices. Rebels surged forward, sensing weakness.
Kael's fury burned hotter than Tharos's wings. "Stand with me!" he roared. "Or fall with them!"
A handful of soldiers obeyed, charging beside him. Others hesitated, retreating under Rowan's command. The line fractured.
Garrick limped into the fray, his scarred face grim. He raised his blade, voice carrying across the chaos.
"Follow Kael! He fights for your lives, not his glory!"
The men wavered, then surged forward. Rowan's smirk faltered as the tide shifted.
Kael fought with fury, Tharos's talons tearing through beetles, wings blazing against the night. Garrick's presence steadied the line, his loyalty anchoring Kael's fragile command.
The rebels pressed harder, mantis riders leaping from the cliffs. Kael's arm bled from a spear's graze, his breath ragged.
"Tharos," he whispered.
The beast's wings erupted in flame, a shockwave tearing through the pass. Rebels screamed, cliffs splintered, mantis riders tumbled into the abyss.
The soldiers stared, awe replacing doubt. Rowan stumbled back, his smirk gone, eyes wide with fear.
Kael stood in the inferno's glow, sword raised, eyes blazing.
The pass lay in ruins, rebel banners burned to ash. The soldiers gathered, their voices hushed. Some looked at Kael with reverence, others with unease.
Rowan approached, his smile thin. "Impressive. But fire consumes as easily as it saves. The Emperor will decide whether you are a weapon… or a threat."
Kael's jaw tightened. He knew Rowan would twist the victory into poison. But he also knew the men had seen him endure, bleed, and rise again.
And legends were not born of whispers. They were born of fire.