The day of the first battle arrived, and the princes led their armies into the field.
The enemy came in waves, relentless and fierce. Andros crushed men with his bare hands, Calen's spear flew with deadly precision, and Kyros danced through the battlefield, cutting down foes with every weapon at his disposal.
The day was won, but the cost was high. Hundreds of their men lay dead, and for the first time, the princes felt a flicker of doubt.The enemy had only just begun.
That night, the three princes sat around the fire, their armor bloodstained and their spirits troubled. The taste of victory was bitter. Never had a battle weighed so heavily upon them. The sight of their fallen men haunted their minds, and despite their individual prowess, the sheer force of the enemy unnerved them."It felt wrong," Kyros muttered, staring into the flickering flames. His fingers absentmindedly traced the hilt of his sword. "The way they fought, it was like they were possessed by something darker than just ambition."Calen, silent until now, tossed a small stone into the fire. "They fight with no fear of death. It's as though they expect to die, and yet they don't waver.
My spear can cut through hundreds, but what happens when they send thousands? Tens of thousands?"Andros, the eldest and strongest, leaned back against a log, his eyes narrowing in thought. "Our power is unmatched. But I felt something today, a weakening, a weariness I haven't felt before. It's as though the strength that I once had is slipping away."For a long moment, none of them spoke. The night air was cold, and the sky above them was clouded, hiding the stars.Finally, Kyros broke the silence. "Perhaps father was right. We have grown proud. Strong, but hollow."Calen frowned. "Are you saying we should return to the old ways? After all this time?""I'm saying there's something more at work here than just swords and spears. This war, this enemy… they know something we don't. And we've forgotten something important," Kyros replied, his voice low and thoughtful.Andros clenched his fists, feeling the raw power still in his bones but sensing a void deeper within. "We are the sons of Nor.
Our strength is not just our own. It was given to us."Calen looked at his brothers, doubt creeping into his voice. "But we've fought without it for years. Why now? Why does it feel as though we are losing even as we win?"Kyros stood and faced his brothers. "It's not just the enemy we're fighting. It's ourselves. We've turned away from what gave us this power. And now, it's slipping through our fingers."The wind howled, and the flames flickered ominously. For the first time in their lives, the three princes felt vulnerable, not just in their bodies, but in their spirits.
The shadow of doubt that loomed over them was growing darker by the hour.Suddenly, a messenger rushed into the camp, breathless and pale. "My lords," he panted, "the Warbringer's forces… they march at dawn. The enemy is larger than we imagined. Twice the size of today's army.
They mean to finish us before we can regroup."Andros stood, his face hardening into resolve. "Then we fight them with all we have."But even as he spoke, the words felt hollow. Each of the brothers knew that this battle would not be like the last.
Their strength, their might, it had been enough for today. But would it be enough for tomorrow?