The first distant rumble was subtle, almost indistinguishable from the swamp’s usual creaks and groans. Agan crouched beside Garik, feeling the ground beneath him shiver, a soft vibration that climbed up his spine and settled in his chest.

“They’re coming,” Garik whispered, tightening his grip on his spear. The humor that usually sparkled in his eyes was gone, replaced by a fierce focus. The finality in his tone sent a chill through Agan, who steeled himself for what was to come.

From their vantage point, Agan could see Tarek and the other defenders spread out across Murkrest’s edge, each hidden behind the thickets and natural defenses they’d spent weeks preparing. In the tree branches above, villagers with bows and slings waited in silence, their faces set, eyes trained on the path ahead.

A slight movement caught Agan’s eye—a figure stepping out from the mist. It was an empire soldier, his armor muted by the fog, his face a mask of calm determination. He paused, scanning the area, before signaling to the rest of his unit. Behind him, a line of soldiers materialized, their numbers swelling as they pushed forward, shields raised, weapons drawn.

Agan’s heart pounded. There were more of them than he’d expected—rows upon rows of empire soldiers, disciplined and steady, their armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. They moved with eerie precision, their steps in sync, their faces void of fear. This was no mere raid; it was a calculated assault.

Tarek’s signal came—a sharp, quick whistle that pierced the silence. The first volley of arrows whistled through the air, striking the front line of soldiers with deadly precision. Several soldiers dropped, their bodies hitting the ground with a sickening thud, but the rest pressed forward, undeterred.

Agan and Garik leaped from their hiding spot, spears raised as they charged toward the nearest group of soldiers. The empire forces responded instantly, shields raised to absorb the impact. Agan jabbed his spear forward, feeling the satisfying crunch of armor giving way. The soldier staggered, and Garik followed up with a swift blow, finishing him off.

But there was no time to celebrate. More soldiers surged forward, pushing back against Murkrest’s defenses. Agan barely dodged a blade that sliced toward him, the steel gleaming as it swung past his face. He twisted, planting his foot and driving his spear into the side of another soldier.

The swamp’s traps triggered around them—nets falling from the trees, thorn-covered vines lashing out, spiked logs rolling down carefully placed inclines. Several soldiers stumbled, ensnared, their screams mingling with the sounds of clashing weapons. But the empire’s ranks held strong, their formation barely faltering as they adapted, maneuvering with ruthless efficiency.

A sudden flash of light caught Agan’s eye, and he turned in time to see an empire mage at the back of the formation, his hands weaving through the air as he muttered an incantation. Fire erupted from his palms, surging forward in a wave that cut through the swamp’s defenses like a blade through cloth. Agan’s breath caught as he watched the fire consume everything in its path, the heat searing even from a distance.

“Move!” Garik shouted, grabbing Agan by the shoulder and pulling him back just as the flames licked at their feet. They scrambled over a fallen log, barely avoiding the flames that roared past, leaving a scorched, smoking trail in their wake.

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Tarek’s voice rang out over the chaos, issuing commands as he directed the defenders, his face streaked with sweat and dirt. “Fall back! Keep to the trees, don’t let them get you in the open!”

Agan and Garik fell back with the others, regrouping behind a thick tangle of roots. As they caught their breath, Agan looked around, noting the fear etched into the faces of his friends, each of them fighting to hold their ground. Aska, her face smeared with mud, nodded to him, her eyes flashing with a fierce determination that steadied his nerves.

A new wave of soldiers advanced, their formation tighter, more aggressive. They pushed through the swamp’s obstacles with a brutal efficiency, forcing the defenders to retreat further. Murkrest’s defenders fought valiantly, using every tactic they knew, but it was clear the empire’s soldiers were relentless, pressing forward with cold, unyielding force.

A sudden movement above drew Agan’s attention. One of the empire’s mages had climbed into the trees, his hands glowing with a sickly green light. Before Agan could react, the mage released a blast of energy that sent a nearby tree crashing to the ground, splintering into pieces. Agan stumbled back, feeling the impact reverberate through his bones.

The mage spotted him, a cruel smile twisting his lips as he raised his hands for another attack. But before he could cast, a dagger flew through the air, embedding itself in the mage’s throat. The mage choked, his spell dissipating as he crumpled to the ground.

Agan looked over to see Tarek lowering his arm, his expression grim. “Keep moving, Agan! Don’t give them a clear target!”

He nodded, adrenaline surging through him as he darted toward the next cluster of defenders. But the empire forces were closing in, their ranks pressing through the swamp with an unstoppable momentum. Agan could see it now—the sheer numbers, the disciplined movements, the impenetrable line they formed. Murkrest was being swallowed whole, inch by inch, beneath the empire’s crushing force.

Out of the corner of his eye, Agan spotted a familiar figure struggling against two soldiers. It was Elder Saka, her staff held high as she swung at them with surprising strength. But age had worn her down, and her strikes barely seemed to faze them. The soldiers advanced on her, swords drawn, and Agan felt a surge of anger rise within him.

Without thinking, he lunged forward, slamming his spear into the back of one of the soldiers. The man grunted, falling to his knees, and Agan quickly shifted his stance, using his weight to shove the second soldier off-balance. Saka turned, her eyes wide with surprise, and gave him a brief nod of gratitude before retreating to safety.

But the moment of victory was short-lived. More soldiers swarmed forward, and Agan felt himself being pushed back, step by step, his arms aching with every thrust of his spear. His vision blurred, the world a chaotic blur of steel and blood and shadows.

“Fall back to the village!” Tarek’s voice rang out, desperate and commanding. “Everyone, fall back!”

Agan stumbled backward, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to keep up with the retreating defenders. The village loomed ahead, a beacon of safety, but he knew it was only temporary. The empire would not stop until Murkrest was theirs.

As he reached the outskirts of the village, he turned to see Tarek standing at the edge of the swamp, his spear held high, his face set in a mask of grim determination. The empire soldiers advanced on him, their weapons raised, but Tarek held his ground, his gaze fierce.

“Go, Agan!” he shouted, his voice carrying over the din. “Protect the others!”

Agan hesitated, his heart twisting. But he knew Tarek’s words were an order, a final command from the man who had taught him everything. With a reluctant nod, he turned and ran, following the other villagers as they fled into the heart of Murkrest.

Behind him, he heard the clash of steel, the shouts of battle, and the unmistakable sound of a life ending.