Chapter 30: The Never-ending Battle

The stink of blood clung to Lyanna’s armor like a second skin. Her sword arms trembled, not from fear, but from exhaustion. Day after day, they hacked their way through the horde — creatures that never tired, never broke, and never stopped. It felt endless. A tide of claws and fangs crashing against the fragile wall of her soldiers.

The sky above the twisted forest hung gray and heavy, choking out the sun. Shadows twisted in the underbrush, and even the trees seemed hostile, their gnarled branches clawing at the soldiers as they passed. The air reeked of rot and decay, a constant reminder that death was never far behind.

Lyanna wiped the blood from her cheek with a gauntleted hand. It didn’t matter. More would take its place before long. She scanned the line, eyes darting from soldier to soldier. Most of them were still standing — barely. Their armor dented, their shields chipped. But their eyes… their eyes told the truth. Hollow. Haunted. How many days had it been since any of them had slept through the night?

“Alric!” she called over the clash of steel and the guttural growls of the monsters. Her voice was hoarse from barking orders.

Alric, blood-spattered and breathing hard, stumbled to her side. His sword dripped with black ichor. His eyes locked with hers, filled with a grim determination that mirrored her own. “We need to fall back and regroup.”

Lyanna shook her head. “We can’t. If we pull back now, the sentries will be exposed. They’ll be torn apart, and the horde will push right back through everything we’ve fought for.” Her jaw clenched. “We hold. No matter what.”

She turned to the nearest group of soldiers — barely a dozen left in that squad. “Steady your line! No one dies here today.”

One of the younger men, barely out of boyhood, gave her a desperate look. “We can’t keep this up, Captain. We’re outnumbered. We’re tired.”

“I know,” she said, softer this time. “But we don’t have a choice.”

They pressed on.

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The horde never came all at once. It was relentless, yes, but insidious — wearing them down through constant skirmishes, always lurking just beyond the tree line. Every time the soldiers thought they had a moment’s peace, the beasts would come again. Slithering shapes with too many eyes. Creatures with gnashing teeth and bone-like talons. Each one a nightmare pulled from the dark corners of a child’s imagination.

Lyanna fought like a woman possessed. She darted ahead of the line whenever it faltered, her sword flashing in the dim light. She took blows that would have felled lesser warriors, trusting in Scarlet’s magic to knit her flesh back together. Pain was irrelevant. Her body was just a tool — a shield between her soldiers and the monsters.

She had already lost too many under her command once before. She would not let it happen again.

A scream pierced the air. Lyanna spun toward the sound, sprinting across the muddy ground. One of the sentries had been pulled down, a beast with jagged claws tearing at his chest. Without hesitation, Lyanna plunged her blade into the creature’s skull. It spasmed, then went limp.

The soldier gasped for breath, clutching his wound. “C-Commander—”

“Hold still,” she ordered, her voice steady despite the chaos. Kate knelt beside the man, her hands glowing with soft, golden light as she began the healing process. Lyanna nodded to her. “Keep him breathing.”

Kate glanced up, her face pale and weary. “You can’t keep taking these risks, my lady. You’re not invincible.”

“I’m expendable,” Lyanna replied. “They aren’t.”

Kate’s eyes hardened. “That’s not true, and you know it.”

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Before Lyanna could argue, another wave of beasts crashed through the trees. There was no time for talk. Just more blood to spill.

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Nightfall brought little relief.

They made camp in the heart of the forest — if the hastily fortified position could be called a camp. Sentries were posted in shifts, patrolling the perimeter with torches and sharp eyes. But even the most vigilant watch couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay forever.

The soldiers slept in fitful snatches, haunted by the sounds of the forest — the snap of twigs, the rustle of leaves, the distant growls that never quite faded.

Lyanna rarely slept. She would sit by the dying fire, sharpening her blades, the rhythmic scrape of stone on steel a steady counterpoint to the chaos that surrounded them.

Alric often joined her during these restless nights. He would sit in silence for a time before speaking, his voice low and measured.

“You can’t keep pushing them like this.”

Lyanna didn’t look up. “They’ll push through.”

“They’re human. Not machines.” His tone softened. “You’ve been running yourself ragged, too.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. His eyes were shadowed with exhaustion. “We need to hold. Give them time to rest.”

“We will,” she said, her voice cold and unwavering. “Once we reach the ridge. Not before.”

“And if someone breaks before then?”

Lyanna finally met his gaze. Her eyes were hard, unyielding. “Then I’ll hold the line myself.”

Alric gave her a sidelong glance. “Still, You’re pushing them too hard.”

“I don’t have another choice. We’ve made it this far. If we pull back now, we lose everything. We’ll hold this ground until we’re ready to strike at the Devourer.”

“And if the Devourer strikes first?”

Lyanna finally paused, her grip tightening on the hilt of her blade. “Then we fight. Like we’ve been doing.”

Alric leaned back, staring up at the black sky. “I hope you’re right.”

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Lyanna woke from a fitful sleep, her heart pounding as if she had been running. The dream was already slipping away — flashes of faces, familiar yet distorted, screaming. The scent of smoke and iron clung to her senses even as she blinked back to the present. Her hand instinctively sought Scarlet’s hilt, her mangled hand tightening around the grip as she steadied her breathing. While her other hand found Ember’s solace.

A frantic commotion outside her tent tore her fully awake.

“Commander!” A camp aide rushed in, wide-eyed and pale. “There’s been an ambush.”

Lyanna bolted upright, her exhaustion forgotten. She didn’t ask questions, just grabbed her armor and weapons. Moments later, she was pushing her way through a growing crowd of soldiers gathered near the camp’s edge.

The scene before her was grim. A mangled creature lay in the center of the clearing, its body riddled with arrows and scorch marks from spells. But it wasn’t the monster that held her gaze — it was the bodies of her soldiers strewn around it, their blood dark against the earth.

“Group Seven,” Alric murmured beside her, his voice low with anger and grief. “All of them. Even Faen and Morra.”

The names hit her like a hammer. Faen, their mage, who always laughed even in the face of despair. Morra, the priest who had tended to wounds with tireless devotion. Now both lay among the dead, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing.

Lyanna dropped to one knee beside Faen’s body, her gauntleted hand trembling as she closed his eyes. She forced herself to speak, her voice hollow. “What happened?”

“Beast slipped through the perimeter,” a captain said, his face ashen. “They fought hard, but…”

“They shouldn’t have had to,” Lyanna snapped, her anger cutting through the sorrow like a blade. “Where were the sentries?”

The sergeant faltered. “We—we were spread thin. They must’ve—”

“It’s on me,” Lyanna said, standing. Her jaw clenched tight enough to crack. “I should have strengthened the patrols. I should’ve—”

“Lyanna,” Alric said softly, but she waved him off.

“This is my failure,” she growled, her voice low and venomous. She turned back to the remaining soldiers, her expression hardening. “See to the dead. Burn the creature’s carcass. I don’t want any trace of it left.”

The soldiers moved with grim efficiency, their movements heavy with the weight of loss. Lyanna remained where she stood, watching as Faen and Morra were carried off alongside their comrades. Her fingers tightened around Scarlet and Ember. She wouldn’t forget this. She couldn’t.

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It took them ten days to push through the cursed forest. Ten days of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights. By the time they reached their final position — a narrow ridge overlooking the beast’s lair — the soldiers were shadows of themselves. Hollow-eyed, gaunt, and battered. But alive.

They’d made it.

Lyanna stood at the edge of the ridge, looking down at the dark, festering pit below. This was where the Devourer made its nest. This was where the nightmare would end.

Behind her, the camp buzzed with quiet activity. Soldiers patched their wounds, mended their gear, and shared what little food they had left. The atmosphere was tense — a fragile calm before the storm.

Alric approached, standing beside her. “We’ll hold for a day or two, like you said. Let everyone recover.”

Lyanna nodded, her gaze never leaving the pit. “We’ve bought ourselves a brief reprieve. We’ll need every second of it.”

“And after that?”

Her lips curled into a grim smile. “Then we end this.”