Vyn rode up beside Akash as the strike force climbed the jagged mountain path, their mounts kicking up stones slick with rain. The Lunar Storm raged above them, thunder rumbling like the growl of some distant, ancient beast. The torrential downpour drowned out all but the sound of their armor clinking and the muffled breaths of men bracing for bloodshed. Elys let out a low growl, his muscles tensing beneath Akash as if the great sabertooth could sense the carnage to come.
Akash tightened his grip on the saddle, his resin-infused blade resting across his lap. He cast his gaze up at the looming silhouette of Mount Pyre, its dark walls barely visible through the swirling mist and rain. Lightning streaked the sky, illuminating the keep's jagged towers.
"I have trained for months without rest," Akash murmured, his voice barely audible over the storm. His words trembled like the raindrops slipping down his face. "And now that the moment is here, I… I don't know what to feel. Terror. Excitement. Both. My hands shake sometimes, even though I've done everything I could to prepare." He looked toward Vyn, his voice quieter. "You know what I mean?"
Vyn chuckled, though his usual smirk carried a hint of understanding. "We all feel it, Oathsworn. Fear. Anticipation. The pull of the blade. Listen closely, and you'll hear the thrumming of battle waiting for us." He leaned forward in his saddle. "Halt position!" he barked, his voice cutting through the storm. The command rippled through the battalion, and the line of soldiers stilled as they crept closer to the walls.
Akash's heart thudded in his chest. His hands gripped the reins tighter as his blade hummed in his palm, the resin-infused edge glimmering faintly against the storm's shadows. One word would ignite the chaos. Just one.
"Now let's see if they were expecting us," Vyn muttered, his grin sharper than the sword resting at his hip.
"Archers! Ladders!" the command came, sharp and resolute.
Akash's breath hitched as he tensed in the saddle, his blade still sheathed but ready. A taut silence hung in the air. Even the rain seemed to pause, just for a moment, as the strike force reached the outer walls of the keep. Then, Vyn's voice shattered the stillness.
"Fire."
The word echoed, crisp and final, cutting through the storm. The archers released their strings, and the taught snapping of bows sang through the air. A hail of arrows, hundreds strong, arced toward the walls, blending with the rain. For every raindrop, it seemed there was an arrow beside it. The sentries atop Mount Pyre, shrouded in the mist, crumpled like wheat under a scythe.
Akash's blood surged as he urged Elys forward. The sabertooth roared, the sound cutting through the rain like a horn signaling death. Behind him, the Wardancers climbed the ladders with practiced grace, scaling the walls in waves, while the larger section of the force rushed toward the main gate.
"Fallen!" Akash called over his shoulder, his voice steady despite the adrenaline flooding his veins. "We charge the main entrance!"
Vyn let out a whistle, amusement lacing his tone. "You're about to interrupt the melody, Akash!"
A sharp grin cut across Akash's face. His heart thundered as his blood demanded release. "Then I'll change the tune," he shot back, his voice fierce.
"Damn fool," Vyn muttered under his breath.
Fallen's voice rang out like a drumbeat, commanding and powerful. "Come, Ukari! We are the Oathsworn's blade. It is time to pay our dues!"
The Ukari surged forward, their glowing azure and regal purple forms cutting through the mist like beacons. Each step they took rang with unyielding purpose, their armor shimmering even in the storm's chaos. And at their head was Fallen, his scythe dragging against the earth, the blade whispering a promise of death.
Akash drove Elys onward, his blade carving through the mist as they reached the gates. The massive doors creaked open, and a wave of soldiers in black plate armor surged forth. Red feathers jutted from their helms, and velvet sashes hung across their chests. Their shields, obsidian black and marked with white symbols, gleamed in the rain. Flails and short swords swung at their sides, their movements precise and disciplined.
Akash's resin blade descended first, cleaving through the obsidian shield of the nearest soldier. The man barely had time to react before the blade cut through his chest, hissing as resin ate into his armor. The man fell, lifeless, and Akash urged Elys forward.
The sabertooth roared again and pounced. Elys sank his fangs into another man's neck, blood spraying across his muzzle as his claws ripped through plated armor. The man crumpled, gurgling his last breath.
Behind them, Fallen leapt from his lesh. His boots hit the earth with a thunderous crash, and the battlefield seemed to pause for just a moment. Then his scythe swung, a blackened arc of death slicing through five men in a single blow. Their swords and shields clattered uselessly to the ground, unable to so much as scratch his armor.
Akash slashed another man, the resin blade tearing through flesh and bone with ease. The strike should have exhilarated him, but instead, it felt… hollow. The kill had been too easy, too clean. Something gnawed at him, a thought he couldn't quite grasp through the pounding blood in his ears.
And in that brief pause—he made his first mistake.
A flail connected with his chest, slamming into the golden feathers on his armor. Pain exploded through his ribs as he staggered back, wheezing. The impact left a dent in the armor, and for a moment, Akash thought he might collapse.
The battlefield seemed to hold its breath. Some of the Wardancers turned to watch. Was this how it would end? The Angel of the Red Sands, felled by a single blow? Months of grueling training—hours spent bleeding and breaking his body to prepare—gone in an instant?
But Akash grit his teeth. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, and his breathing slowed. His instincts took over. In one swift motion, he reversed his grip and struck. The resin blade severed the flail-wielder's arm, the steel tumbling to the ground as the man screamed. Without hesitation, Akash drove the blade through his chest, the resin hissing as it melted through leather and bone.
Akash straightened, his focus sharpening. His next strike came effortlessly, cutting through the neck of an overextended enemy. Blood sprayed across his armor as the soldier crumpled. He didn't pause this time. There was no room for mistakes.
Fallen appeared at his side, his scythe cleaving through a swordsman who had been rushing toward Akash. Elys roared, his muzzle dripping with blood as he tore into another soldier.
"You're reckless," Fallen growled, his tone sharp with disapproval.
Akash didn't respond. His focus was singular now, his breathing steady. The resin blade hissed as it tore through another soldier, splitting him cleanly in half.
They moved as one: Akash, Fallen, and Elys cutting through the tide of men like a scythe through wheat. The Wardancers joined the fray, their movements fluid and deadly, while the Ukari held the front line, their bodies impervious to the steel that clashed against them.
Arrows rained down from above, falling alongside the endless torrent of rain. Akash slashed downward, his blade severing the leg of a horse. The animal toppled, pinning its rider beneath it. Elys was on them in an instant, his fangs ending the soldier's life.
The battlefield became a rhythm: the clash of steel, the cries of the dying, the roar of the storm above. Chaos consumed Mount Pyre as the forces of Reem pressed their advantage. The defenders thinned, their numbers shrinking under the relentless assault. Even at the gates, the tide began to shift as the Ukari broke through the front line.
Vyn appeared beside Akash, his blade slipping beneath an enemy's helm and ending the man's life with a precise strike. He wiped the blood from his sword, his breathing heavier now. "Just as we planned," he said, his tone dry. "Though I'd hate to see what this keep could do with its full garrison."
Fallen barked, "Keep the swords away from the Oathsworn! More than ten have already broken through your lines, Sovran!"
Vyn smirked faintly. "The Oathsworn sets the melody, Fallen. We act upon his rhythm. He's become the main beat—but that also makes him the biggest target."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Akash muttered, ramming his shoulder into another enemy before ending him with a quick jab.
And still, the storm raged on. The keep's defenders dwindled, but the battle was far from over. Mount Pyre stood tall, blood and rain soaking its ancient stones as chaos ruled the night.