The clang of steel against steel echoed through the village square, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the shouts of the living. The once tranquil village was now a battlefield, every corner of its cobblestone streets stained with the blood of those who fought to protect it.
Elara's muscles screamed in protest, but she pushed herself harder, her sword a blur as she parried and struck, refusing to give an inch to the warlord's forces. She had no time to think, only to react, each movement driven by instinct and the desperate need to survive.
To her left, Morgana fought with a relentless fury, her twin blades whirling in deadly arcs. The look in her eyes was one of pure determination, the fire within her undimmed despite the odds. Elias was on the opposite side of the square, a calm force in the storm, his every strike measured and precise, cutting down enemies with the efficiency of a seasoned warrior.
