The mountain air was frigid as the group descended, the weight of the crystal still pressing against Calen's chest. The snow was thicker now, and each step felt heavier as they neared the clearing. A strange pull from the crystal urged him forward, guiding him like an unseen hand.
"We're almost there," Ronan said through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse from exertion. "Stay close."
The narrow path widened abruptly, revealing a clearing. At the center, an ancient stone altar stood, its surface carved with worn symbols. But it was the faint glow emanating from the altar that drew Calen's attention. His heart skipped as he reached into his pocket, the crystal pulsing in rhythm with the altar's energy. It was time.
"Wait," Vera's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. She scanned the horizon, her eyes narrowing. "We're not alone."
A heavy silence fell over the group. From the shadows of the mountain, figures began to emerge, stepping into the clearing. Clad in the cold, metallic armor of the empire, there were at least thirty soldiers. At their center, a tall figure moved with authority, his cloak billowing in the wind. Captain Nera.
Ronan cursed under his breath, stepping into a defensive stance. "They found us."
Calen's hand tightened around the crystal, the power surging within him. But it wasn't enough. They were too many. Thirty soldiers, all armed and ready to fight. He had no idea how they could face them.
Vera's gaze never wavered. "We don't have a choice. We fight."
Seris nodded, her hands raised as she began to summon the winds. The air around them seemed to tremble, swirling with energy. Ronan's sword gleamed in the pale light, while Vera's eyes remained fixed on the advancing soldiers.
"We need to protect the altar," Calen said, his voice strained. "It's our only chance."
Ronan glanced at him, then at the soldiers. "We'll do what we can. But we need to hold them off long enough for you to finish."
The empire's soldiers, numbering thirty in total, spread out, encircling them in a tight formation. The sun dipped lower behind the mountains, casting long shadows across the battlefield.
Captain Nera's voice rang out. "Surrender the crystal, and we'll make your deaths quick."
Calen's grip on the crystal tightened. The air hummed around him, charged with energy. He could feel the power of the altar and the crystal merging, but it wasn't enough. Not yet.
"We're not giving it to you," Ronan called back, stepping forward, his sword raised. "Prepare yourselves."
The soldiers lunged, a tidal wave of steel and fury. Calen's heart raced as he focused, the magic thrumming through his veins. He raised his hand, trying to summon the wind, but it was wild and uncontrollable. A blast of air surged around him, knocking a few of the soldiers back, but not enough to stop them.
"Focus!" Seris shouted, her voice urgent as she sent a gust of wind toward the approaching soldiers, knocking two off their feet. "Get a grip on your magic!"
Calen nodded, swallowing his fear. He needed to control it. The crystal was his key.
Meanwhile, Ronan and Vera were already in the thick of the fight. Ronan's sword flashed, cutting through armor and flesh as he carved a path toward Captain Nera. Vera, ever calculating, moved with deadly precision, her blade slicing through the air, dispatching enemies with lethal efficiency.
But even with their combined strength, the soldiers kept coming. Ten were already on the ground, but the rest remained undeterred, pressing forward with relentless determination.
Captain Nera stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Calen. "You can't escape your fate, boy. Hand over the crystal."
Calen's breath came in shallow gasps. He could feel the power of the crystal growing stronger, the vibrations deep within his bones. With a surge of will, he raised both hands, focusing every ounce of his energy on the altar. The wind howled around them, swirling in a violent vortex as the crystal in his hand began to glow with blinding light.
The soldiers recoiled, hands shielding their eyes from the intense glow, but it was too late. A shockwave of raw energy erupted from the altar, sending a ripple through the battlefield. The earth trembled, and the remaining soldiers were thrown back, some tumbling into the snow, others knocked unconscious by the force of the blast.
But Captain Nera stood his ground, eyes wide with fury. "You fool! You've sealed your own doom!"
With a roar, he charged at Calen, his sword raised high. But just as he was about to strike, a figure appeared between them—Ronan.
Ronan's sword clashed against Captain Nera's, the force of the impact sending sparks flying. "Not today, Nera," Ronan growled, shoving him back.
Calen's hands trembled as he lowered them, the crystal still glowing with immense power. The empire's soldiers were scattered, their will broken. The battle was won. But as Captain Nera retreated, his eyes burning with hatred, Calen knew this was far from over.
They had won the battle. But the war was just beginning.