Chapter 13: The Shattered Hour

Lyanna cursed herself bitterly as she sprinted forward, her heart pounding with a dreadful rhythm. The ash-choked air burned in her lungs, and pain seared her fractured hand, yet she could only think of one thing. Damn you, Scarlet. Damn me for draining your essence dry. The once brilliant, healing glow of her sword had faded to an impotent, lifeless hue, and she knew it was her own reckless desperation that had bled it dry.

Eda lay crumpled in the ash, her chest painted crimson. Lyanna's eyes scanned frantically for the red strips marking a healer among the remaining mages, but the chaos made it impossible. Her vision blurred with frustration and fear, her pulse racing. There was no time. There has to be a healer left, there has to—

Before she could find one, a soft, ethereal glow enveloped Eda. The ruinous wound across her chest began to stitch itself closed, sinew and bone mending with a radiant, golden light. Everyone knew that glow, that touch of divine intervention. Arthor, The Father, had blessed her. A god’s grace was a rare gift, reserved for those who had always put duty first, no matter the cost.

Lyanna could only watch, paralyzed by a swell of helpless awe and sorrow. Eda's eyes flickered open, burning with a newfound determination. The wind around her roared to life, sharper and more potent than ever before. Her hair whipped about her dirt-streaked face, and the air crackled with raw, untamed power. But Lyanna knew the bitter truth: The Father’s blessing was a double-edged sword. When the blessing left Eda’s body, she would be worse off than before—crushed beneath the weight of divine power she couldn’t possibly contain in her mortal form. And in Eda’s current state, that meant death. A slow, agonizing death.

Tears stung Lyanna’s eyes as she gripped Ember with her mangled hand, feeling the sword’s dead weight in her palm. Monsters with twisted forms and glistening fangs emerged from the shadows, beasts she had never seen before. She fought through them, her limbs heavy, her breath ragged, all the while watching Eda’s final stand. This isn’t fair, she thought, a desperate, useless cry echoing in the corners of her mind. She shouldn’t have to die.

Eda, blazing with divine might, unleashed a storm of wind and essence. Her magic carved through the Ruin Beast’s crystalline limbs, splintering obsidian spikes and shattering vines. The monster roared in defiance, but Eda’s power was unstoppable.

Eda, blazing with divine might, raised her hands, and the wind obeyed her command. It surged forward, tearing into the monstrous horde with relentless force. A gale carved through the Ruin Beast’s crystalline limbs, splintering obsidian spikes and shattering vines. Each strike carried a fury that Lyanna had never seen in her friend before, a desperate, beautiful rage born of love, duty, and a refusal to surrender.

Yet the monster did not falter. It reared back, its core pulsing with malevolent crimson light, and slammed one massive limb into the ground, sending jagged shards of crystal shooting toward Eda.

She barely had time to react, a wall of wind spiraling up to intercept the deadly spikes. Some of them shattered in midair, but others broke through, slicing into her exposed skin. Blood welled from a gash across her cheek, and she bit back a scream. The pain was excruciating, and the divine light in her eyes flickered.

The Ruin Beast roared, twisting its massive, vine-covered body with serpentine grace. Thick tendrils lashed out, one wrapping around Eda’s waist and squeezing tight. The air was crushed from her lungs, and she struggled, her arms pinned to her sides. The divine glow around her body surged, but it was weakening, each burst of power taking more out of her. The Ruin Beast hauled her up, dangling her like a rag doll, and its maw opened wide, dripping with molten darkness.

“No!” Lyanna screamed, slashing her way toward Eda, but the monsters between them slowed her advance.

With a desperate, choked cry, Eda summoned every ounce of strength she had left. The wind around her exploded, tearing the vine apart and sending her tumbling to the ground. She landed hard, her knees buckling, but she forced herself up, her entire body trembling. The divine light dimmed further, but she pressed on, teeth gritted, eyes blazing with defiance.

The Ruin Beast hissed, its core pulsing wildly. It lunged forward, sweeping at Eda with a jagged, crystalline arm. She ducked and rolled to the side, barely avoiding the strike, but another vine lashed out, wrapping around her leg and dragging her toward the monster. Eda twisted, a cyclone forming at her fingertips, and unleashed it with a roar. The wind howled, slicing into the vine and freeing her, but she was weakening, each attack draining her lifeforce.

The Ruin Beast sensed her faltering strength and pressed the attack. It slammed its crystal-encrusted fists into the ground, sending shockwaves that fractured the earth beneath her feet. Eda stumbled, her balance slipping. A shard of obsidian, razor-sharp and deadly, shot toward her. She threw up a wall of wind, but the shard shattered through, grazing her side and tearing into flesh.

Eda fell to one knee, her breath ragged, blood seeping from her wounds. The divine glow was fading, her body breaking under the strain. The Ruin Beast loomed over her, triumphant, its maw opening wide to consume her.

But Eda refused to yield. With a final, desperate scream, she summoned the storm one last time. Wind roared around her, a maelstrom of pure, unbridled force, and she directed it at the monster’s core. The Ruin Beast tried to brace itself, but Eda’s power was unstoppable. The wind carved through the obsidian armor, splintering the crystal and shattering the vines that held the monster together.

The monster let out a guttural, ear-splitting roar, its core fracturing, splitting apart under the onslaught. The golden light in Eda’s eyes flared one last time, a brilliant, defiant blaze, as she unleashed a final, shattering blow. The Ruin Beast’s core exploded in a storm of black and crimson, shards of corrupted essence scattering like dark stars.

The battlefield shuddered, and for a moment, hope flickered in the soldiers’ eyes.

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Eda had won. But she had paid the price. Her knees buckled, and the divine glow began to fade. Lyanna dropped her sword and stumbled forward, hands reaching out in a useless, broken gesture. “Eda!” she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of grief.

Eda’s eyes met hers, a fragile, beautiful smile ghosting across her lips. “We did it,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. Then her body crumpled, the light gone. Lyanna fell to her knees beside her, tears slipping down her ash-streaked face, leaving tracks through the grime.

A tear fell, hot and bitter, onto Eda’s lifeless cheek. Lyanna’s throat tightened. No. No. What would they think if they saw you like this? she berated herself, wiping her face with a blood-streaked hand. Lyanna Mirrorguard didn’t cry. She hadn’t cried when her best friend died in her arms during the Battle of Red Soil, surrounded by the mangled corpses of trolls. She wouldn’t start now.

With a shuddering breath, she forced herself back to her feet, leaving Eda behind. Ember and Scarlet felt heavier than ever, but she raised them anyway, her grief transmuting into a cold, hard determination. The battle wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be over until every last monster was vanquished, or she drew her final breath.

Her grief was a knife she buried deep, a wound she could not afford to feel. The monsters kept coming. The battle demanded more of her. Always more.

Time became a blur. The ash-choked air was suffocating, and her muscles screamed with every swing of her swords. Her armor was battered and dented, her body a ruin of bruises and cuts that never quite healed because Scarlet's magic was gone. The soldiers beside her fell, one by one, until there were fewer and fewer.

But Alric remained.

He fought beside her, the golden-haired lord of House Blackthorn, the man she had thought she would despise until the day she died. But war had forged a bond between them, one neither could deny. They fought back-to-back, cutting through the endless tide of monsters, drawing the enemy's focus so the few remaining soldiers could hold the line.

Blood streamed from a gash on Alric’s forehead, and his armor was splintered, barely holding together. His essence pool had run dry long ago, and his strikes were slower, his breath ragged. Lyanna wasn't faring any better. Her own body was failing, broken and battered, her hands barely able to grip her swords. The pain was a constant, numbing drumbeat.

At last, they were surrounded, a ring of ash and death closing in. There was no retreat, no escape. Lyanna and Alric stood shoulder to shoulder, the final defense.

Alric's hand brushed against hers, and she glanced at him, surprised by the warmth in his eyes. “Looks like this is it,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “It's been an honor, Mirrorguard.”

Lyanna swallowed, her throat tight. They had known each other for hours, but it felt like a lifetime. In this hellish nightmare, they had become something she couldn’t name. “Likewise, Blackthorn,” she said, her voice breaking. She managed a ghost of a smile, bitter and fleeting. “Try not to die before I do. I’d hate to miss the show.”

Alric laughed, a short, broken sound. “I’ll do my best.”

They stood together, surrounded by monsters, two warriors who had nothing left to give but their lives. The night deepened, the sky an endless shroud of black, and Lyanna's heart pounded with a defiance that refused to die. She raised her swords one last time, broken but unyielding.

This was their final stand, and she would face it with every scrap of courage she had left.

Lyanna staggered, her vision a fogged haze of exhaustion and pain. Her breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, her body all but spent. She barely felt the relentless onslaught of clawed limbs and gnashing teeth around them—only Alric’s presence grounded her, his shoulder pressing against hers in what felt like an unbreakable promise, though both knew it was a lie.

They swung their weapons, moving as one, but their attacks had slowed to a feeble rhythm, each swing weaker than the last. Blood poured from a gash over Alric’s ribs, staining his armor, while Lyanna's own limbs trembled with the weight of her twin blades, Ember and Scarlet, now utterly bereft of their usual brilliance. Each move felt like dragging her soul through mud.

A crimson claw raked across her shoulder, nearly ripping the armor from her body. The impact sent her staggering, and Alric’s hand shot out to steady her, his grip like iron despite the blood that seeped from the wound in his abdomen. They were running on fumes, on the ragged edge of despair and exhaustion. Even her grief had dulled, leaving only the inevitability of what was to come.

Lyanna tried to summon some final ember of strength, but there was none left. Her head spun, and her vision wavered. The monstrous horde pressed closer, their gnashing jaws and gleaming fangs promising a death no one could withstand. This is it. The thought came with surprising calm. The battle was lost, and she would die here, like so many before her. Her parents, her sister... she hoped they would be proud.

Lyanna’s eyes drifted skyward. The stars were shrouded, invisible behind the thick, acrid clouds.

But then a roar shattered the sky, a sound unlike any beast from the shadows of nightmares. It was a bone-deep rumble, fierce and powerful, and the very air vibrated with its presence. Lyanna’s eyes widened just as dragon fire raked across the battlefield, a searing, all-consuming blaze that swept through the ranks of monsters. Flames as bright as molten gold licked the earth, turning the Ruin Beasts to smoldering ash.

Lyanna's heart seemed to stop, disbelief coursing through her veins. The night erupted into chaos as shadows descended from the sky—magnificent dragons with scales that glittered in hues of ruby, sapphire, and onyx. Their riders, armored warriors wielding lances of fire and thunder, rained down fury upon the enemy, breaking the monsters’ lines and turning what had seemed like an inevitable massacre into a spectacle of hope.

Lyanna staggered back, her breath caught somewhere between a sob and a disbelieving laugh. The laughter burst from her lips, wild and unhinged, until she was clutching her stomach and doubling over in mirth. It was absurd. It was impossible. And yet, it was happening.

Alric turned to her, confusion etched onto his bloodstained, dirt-caked face. He pressed a hand against the gaping wound in his stomach, his eyes narrowing. “Have you lost your mind, Mirrorguard?” he managed, his voice tight with pain.

Lyanna wiped tears of laughter from her ash-streaked face, gasping for air. “Gods, maybe I have,” she said, her laughter subsiding into ragged chuckles. The sight of Alric’s bewildered expression was enough to pull her back to some semblance of sense. She caught her breath, though her grin lingered, tired and triumphant.

“Before the battle,” she said, her voice hoarse and weary, “I made… Eda send messengers to the queen. We needed reinforcements. And... I told her to let the queen know about a potential alliance between the orcs and the trolls.” She glanced back at the dragons, their riders cutting through the tide of beasts with a ferocity that reignited hope on the ruined field. “I never thought they’d actually come. Not in time.