The morning sky bled crimson over the hills of Vaeloriax as the united armies gathered on the plains of Varethian Reach. Banners of all colors—deep blue of the Sapphire Isles, the golden lion of Solmere, the emerald flame of the Verdant Order—fluttered together in the cold wind. It was a sight that had not been seen in centuries. Unity, however fragile, stood again.
Kaelen rode at the front of the formation on a black destrier gifted by the mountain folk of Therrock. Elara rode beside him, her silver staff glinting with runes that shimmered in the early light. Behind them, the legions of knights, elemental magi, beast riders, and archers moved like a tide preparing to strike.
"This is the calm before the storm," Elara said quietly, scanning the horizon. "Loren will not meet us in the open. He's preparing something. I can feel it in the earth."
Kaelen nodded. He felt it too—like the world was holding its breath. His hand went to the hilt of Dawnpiercer, the sword he'd reforged with the essence of the elemental trials. A blade said to shine brighter in the presence of darkness.
A scout galloped toward them, his mount foaming at the mouth, his face pale with fear. "Lord Kaelen, Lady Elara! We've seen it—the sky over Blackthorn Vale is changing. A rift has opened—dark, massive. It's unlike anything we've ever seen."
Kaelen's heart sank. Blackthorn Vale was one of Loren's last known strongholds, nestled within the Whispering Woods. It was supposed to be weeks away from being fortified. The rift meant he'd already begun drawing from the Heart of Darkness.
"We move now!" Kaelen shouted, raising Dawnpiercer. "Sound the horns. We march for Blackthorn!"
The horns blew across the fields, a deep resonant call that sent birds scattering from the trees. Within minutes, the allied forces began their march.
As they approached Blackthorn, the land itself seemed to rot beneath their boots. The trees twisted unnaturally, some bleeding sap the color of pitch. Shadows slithered between trunks, whispering nonsense to passing soldiers. Men clutched their ears, some weeping, some enraged by things only they could hear.
Kaelen walked at the head now, not riding. He wanted his men to see him—no distance, no separation. He passed them, hand to shoulder, meeting their eyes. "You are not alone," he repeated like a mantra. "We stand as one."
Behind him, Elara began preparing her magic circle, weaving summoning glyphs into the ground. "I'll call the guardian of the vale," she said, sweat on her brow. "It may buy us time—or open a path."
The air crackled. A shimmering burst of emerald light erupted from the glyph, and a creature stepped forth. It resembled a giant silver stag with antlers of fire, its body partially made of woven vines and stone.
"The Valewarden," Kaelen whispered. "You really summoned it."
Elara smiled faintly. "He remembers the old pacts. And he hates corruption."
The Valewarden roared, a sound that shook the valley. It charged forward, smashing through twisted trees and dark growths, tearing a path toward Loren's fortress.
"Follow it!" Kaelen ordered.
The path led them to the outer wall of Loren's domain—a fortress unlike anything Kaelen had seen before. It was formed from blackened stone that pulsed like a heartbeat, and atop its towers burned unholy blue flames. And above it all hovered the rift: a swirling vortex of shadows, lightning, and screams.
From its depths poured Loren's army.
They came in silence—an endless tide of shadow-clad warriors, beasts with skeletal wings, and living armor fused with magic. Leading them were six dark lieutenants, each cloaked in different twisted powers: blood, flame, venom, bone, sand, and shadow.
"Prepare for battle!" Kaelen shouted.
And the world exploded into war.
Elara unleashed a blinding wave of summoned beasts—sky serpents, stone lions, and falcons made of flame. Her magic swept the skies and decimated squads of shadow soldiers. At her side, the Valewarden fought like a force of nature, every antler strike breaking through enemy lines.
Kaelen fought at the front, dancing between enemies, his blade glowing brighter with each fallen foe. "Dawnpiercer—cut through the dark!" he roared, his strikes forming arcs of radiant energy.
But then, one of the lieutenants—Vareth the Bone Reaver—stepped forward. Towering, encased in bone armor, and wielding a serrated cleaver, he swung with monstrous force. Kaelen blocked just in time, but was sent skidding across the battlefield.
"Kaelen!" Elara shouted.
"I've got him!" Kaelen coughed and charged again. Their weapons clashed, sparks and bone fragments flying. Kaelen ducked, twisted, and drove his sword into the Reaver's ribcage, letting light erupt from the blade. The lieutenant howled and crumbled to ash.
"One down!" Kaelen shouted.
But it wasn't enough. More shadows spilled from the rift. Even with all their might, Kaelen's forces were being pushed back.
"We must seal the rift!" Elara screamed over the chaos. "Or this battle is lost!"
Kaelen nodded and turned toward the stairs of the fortress. "I'm going in!"
He raced up the obsidian stairs, cutting down shadow beasts as he climbed. The air grew colder. The screams grew louder.
At the top, before the rift, stood Loren.
Clad in armor of dark crystal, eyes glowing with the void, and wielding his artifact blade, Nexuriel, forged in the depths of the Heart itself. Behind him, the rift expanded, raw darkness pulsing with every breath he took.
"Kaelen," Loren said, almost mournfully. "You shouldn't have come."
"You betrayed everything we fought for," Kaelen growled.
"No," Loren said. "I saw the truth. The gods abandoned this world. The Heart offers clarity, purpose. I will become more than a man. I will reshape Vaeloriax."
Kaelen drew Dawnpiercer. "You won't live to see it."
And then, they clashed.
Their battle was beyond mortal. Blade met blade, light met shadow. Kaelen's strikes sang with hope and fury; Loren's cut through space itself. They fought on the edge of the rift, above the world, as armies clashed below.
Loren's voice echoed with layered tones. "You cannot win. You fight for a dying age."
"I fight for people who still believe in light!" Kaelen shouted.
With a burst of energy, Kaelen channeled all the elemental power he had gathered—from flame, water, stone, and sky. Dawnpiercer ignited like a sunburst.
He struck.
Loren screamed as the light pierced through his chest, and the rift behind him began to collapse, screaming as it was denied its vessel.
"No—NO! You don't understand! Without the Heart—Vaeloriax will FALL!"
Kaelen stood firm as Loren fell into the collapsing rift, swallowed by the very force he tried to command.
The sky cleared.
The battlefield below erupted into cheers.