The world blurred at the edges, my vision tunnelled in on the swirling maw of darkness above. Gareth, hero of Valoria, lay broken near the leviathan's shadow, his blood staining the battlefield red. Fear, a viper, coiled in my chest, threatening to squeeze the air from my lungs. But it was a fear laced with defiance, fueled by the dying hero's whisper - "Close… the portal…"
My grip tightened on the ancient staff, a relic passed down through generations of my family, pulsing with an ethereal light in response to my desperation. It hummed against my palm, a lifeline amidst the chaos. My trembling legs felt lighter than air, carrying me towards the portal, each step a defiance against the despair threatening to engulf us.
The closer I got, the heat intensified, a furnace of malevolent energy threatening to melt me from the inside out. The creatures, sensing my intent, surged towards me, claws scraping against the ground, fangs dripping with venom. But the staff blazed brighter, deflecting their attacks, a miniature sun pushing back the encroaching darkness.
Overhead, the portal writhed, hungry tendrils lashing out at me. Its power was immense, an ocean pulling against my fragile boat. But within me, a fire kindled, fueled by Gareth's sacrifice, by the hope flickering in the eyes of our soldiers. My voice, choked but resolute, rose above the din, weaving an ancient incantation passed down through my lineage.
With each syllable, the staff's light intensified, becoming a searing beam that met the portal's darkness head-on. The clash vibrated through my bones, the staff groaning in protest. My knees buckled, yet I held firm, channeling every ounce of my will into the spell.
The battlefield froze, all eyes riveted on the struggle. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity. Cracks began to spiderweb across the portal's surface, the darkness within writhing in agony. My muscles screamed, but I wouldn't falter. Not for Gareth, not for Valoria, not for the flames of hope that danced on the precipice of extinction.
Then, with a deafening crack, the portal shattered. Light, pure and blinding, erupted from the wound, pushing back the shadows, banishing the creatures back into the void from whence they came. The battlefield roared with a sound that was both relief and sorrow. I collapsed, the staff clattering to the ground, its light fading with my waning strength.
Darkness threatened to claim me, but through the haze, I saw him. King Azrael, the undying flame, bathed in the celestial light from the closing portal, his eyes burning with renewed purpose. He knelt beside me, his touch warm and reassuring.
"You did well, young one," he rasped, his voice laced with awe. "You saved us all."
Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the scene before me. My body ached, my throat dry, but a fragile smile touched my lips. The darkness was retreating, the flames of hope rekindled. In that moment, under the fading light of the portal, I knew my place on this battlefield, not just as a squire, but as a warrior, a beacon of hope like Gareth before me. The fight wasn't over, but the tide had turned. And I, like the undying flame, would stand with them, fighting for the light, for Valoria, until the very last breath.