Arlen's heart pounded in his chest as the cold air of the hall wrapped around him. Ina walked closely beside him, eyes wide, a mixture of fear and confusion clouding his face. They were supposed to be with their mother, safe inside the hall, but everything felt wrong. The walls seemed too thin, and the sounds of distant battle kept reaching their ears.
Rayen, walking ahead, kept his hand near the hilt of his sword, his expression grim.
"Rayen…" Arlen's voice barely rose above a whisper, "What's going on? What's happening outside?"
Rayen paused, his eyes scanning the hall. "We're under attack. But I'm not sure who exactly."
The royal knights had already been dispatched to deal with the attackers. But Arlen could feel the weight of something heavier in the air. His gut told him this wasn't just a normal assault.
Suddenly, it came—an overwhelming sense of power. It was as if the very air had thickened around them, a pressure that made it hard to breathe.
Arlen froze, a chill running down his spine.
"That's…" Rayen's voice trailed off as he turned sharply, his eyes wide with recognition. "No, it can't be…"
Arlen's confusion deepened, but then it came into view. From the distance, a shadow moved swiftly and with purpose, cutting through the chaos of the ongoing battle like a blade through cloth.
The figure emerged from the smoke and chaos. A tall man, his silhouette menacing. His presence was crushing, suffocating. Arlen could feel the raw intensity radiating from him.
Rayen tensed, his voice barely audible, yet the weight of it hung heavy in the air. "It's him."
Arlen's eyes widened. He'd never seen this man before, but there was no mistaking the aura of destruction that seemed to follow him.
"Who is that?" Arlen whispered, his heart racing.
Rayen's hand moved to his sword, his expression a mask of resolve. "His name is Korrin. He's one of the war generals from Draethor. We fought against him twelve years ago."
"Draethor?" Arlen asked, puzzled. "Why is he here?"
Rayen's gaze hardened. "Draethor's forces never really retreated from the war. They've been waiting, waiting for the right time. And now, they've allied with your uncle."
Arlen felt his blood run cold. "What does that mean for us?"
Rayen's grip on his sword tightened, his expression grim. "It means we're about to find out."
Before Arlen could ask any more questions, Rayen moved forward, his voice dropping to a low growl. "Stay close. Do not move unless I tell you."
They kept their pace, Rayen leading them toward the heart of the hall, where Queen Alessa had been overseeing the defense. But as they passed the corridor leading to the main doors, Arlen felt an overwhelming shift in the atmosphere. The ground itself seemed to shake as if something immense was coming.
And then—just ahead—a figure appeared, standing tall amidst the smoke and the sounds of battle. Korrin. He was unmistakable now, with dark, piercing eyes that seemed to look right through them.
Rayen stopped, his posture stiffening. "Why are you here?" he demanded, his voice barely containing the fury that was brewing within him.
Korrin's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Did you think the war was over, Rayen? The war never truly ends. It simply changes its face."
Rayen stepped forward, his eyes narrowing. "You fought for Draethor. You—"
"I fight for survival," Korrin interrupted, his voice low and cold. "The war ended, but that doesn't mean peace came. Your king may have won that battle, but we all know peace is fleeting. Your king will never keep this kingdom safe. Not from me."
The words sent a chill down Arlen's spine. Rayen didn't flinch. Instead, his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
"I'm not afraid of you," Rayen said, his voice firm. "I'll protect these boys with my life."
Korrin's smile widened. "You should be afraid."
But before he could make another move, Rayen turned swiftly, grabbing Arlen and Ina by the shoulders.
"RUN!" he commanded, his voice ringing out with a fierce urgency.
Arlen's heart pounded as Rayen pushed them forward. They didn't need another order; they sprinted back toward the heart of the castle, their footsteps echoing in the hall.
As they rounded the corner, they saw her—the Queen, standing tall in the center of the hall, surrounded by a group of fallen soldiers. Her ice powers had created a barrier around her, protecting her from the enemies who dared to approach her. Her eyes narrowed as she saw them coming.
"Arlen! Ina!" she called, relief flooding her face. But there was no time for reunion. As soon as the boys arrived, she turned to them with urgency. "Where's Rayen?"
"Outside," Arlen said breathlessly, pointing back in the direction they came. "He's fighting someone… someone from Draethor."
The Queen's eyes widened in recognition, but she quickly masked her concern with steely resolve. "Then we must move quickly."
Without another word, she spun on her heels, leading the way deeper into the hall, where the rest of the royal knights had already begun to regroup. They could hear the clash of steel outside, the war cries of those loyal to the kingdom, and the familiar, ominous sound of magic sparking in the distance.
As they moved, Arlen felt his heart race. He hadn't been able to process everything yet, but there was no time for that now. The battle had only just begun.
And as they continued, they knew—no matter what came next—the true test was yet to come.