The rain lashed harder, stinging Elyra's face as the battle around her spiraled into chaos. The storm turned the night into a shifting landscape of shadows and fire, a nightmare of slick mud and frantic motion. The roar of the battering ram grew louder, splintering wood and bending iron as it crashed into the barricade again and again.
Kael stood before her, his broad form darkened by the storm, his sword steady even as the wind howled between them. Around them, the war raged—but here, in this fleeting moment, it was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them.
Elyra's chest heaved as she gripped her sword. Every nerve in her body screamed for her to strike, to push him back, to end this—but the weight of his gaze pinned her in place. His voice, raw and low, cut through the storm like a blade.
"This will destroy you, Elyra," Kael said, his words sharp but edged with something deeper, something unspoken. "Can't you see that?"
"Everything is already destroyed," she spat back, her voice breaking under the strain. "Because of you."
Kael's jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening around the hilt of his sword. "I didn't want this," he said, his voice nearly swallowed by the wind. "But I can't undo it now. Neither can you."
"Undo it?" Elyra's voice rose, her fury overtaking her weariness. "You marched into my city. You burned my people's homes. You shattered—" Her words caught in her throat, her hands trembling on her blade. "You shattered everything I trusted."
"And what have you done?" Kael fired back, his tone cutting, his eyes narrowing. "How many lives have you sacrificed in the name of vengeance? How many more tonight?"
The question hit like a hammer, but Elyra refused to let it break her. She lunged forward, her blade flashing in the rain, forcing Kael to raise his own in defense. The clash of steel on steel was deafening, drowning out even the storm.
Kael didn't hold back this time. His strikes were powerful, precise, and unrelenting. Elyra countered with equal ferocity, their movements a blur of deadly intent. The storm around them was nothing compared to the storm within—anger, pain, betrayal, and something far more dangerous simmering beneath it all.
"Do you think I want this?" Elyra shouted, her sword colliding with his. "Do you think I wanted to lead people to their deaths? To fight a war I never asked for?"
Kael grunted as he parried her strike, his movements fluid despite the mud sucking at their feet. "Then stop," he growled, his voice strained. "Stop now, before it's too late."
Elyra spun, her blade slicing through the rain as she pressed her attack. "You don't get to tell me to stop," she hissed, her voice cracking. "Not after what you've done. Not after what you've taken."
Kael's guard faltered for a moment, and Elyra drove forward, forcing him back a step. She could feel the desperation clawing at her, the need to end this, to make him pay for everything. But as their blades locked again, their faces inches apart, something in his expression gave her pause.
"Do you think I don't feel it?" Kael said, his voice barely audible over the storm. "Every death. Every life I've ruined. Do you think I wanted this war, Elyra?"
"Then why?" she demanded, her voice raw with emotion. "Why betray us? Why fight for them?"
Kael's eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I had no choice."
The words hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Elyra's grip on her sword tightened, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She wanted to scream, to demand answers, to force him to explain—but the battlefield around them erupted in a new wave of chaos.
The barricade gave way with a deafening crack.
Elyra's heart stopped as the battering ram broke through, the enemy forces surging forward like a tidal wave. Shouts of alarm rose from her soldiers as the front line crumbled.
Kael's gaze flicked to the breach, his expression hardening. "It's over," he said, his voice low. "Call your retreat."
Elyra's blood boiled. "Never."
She spun away from him, her sword raised as she charged toward the breach. Her soldiers were struggling to hold the line, their faces pale with exhaustion and fear.
"Reform the line!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. "We hold them here!"
But as she fought her way toward the breach, cutting down enemy soldiers with every step, she could feel the tide turning. The rebels were outnumbered, their defenses crumbling. This wasn't a battle they could win.
Behind her, Kael watched, his expression unreadable. He could have struck her down then and there, ended her rebellion with a single blow—but he didn't move.
Elyra didn't notice. She was already in the thick of the fight, her sword a blur as she defended the ridge with everything she had. But even as she fought, she couldn't ignore the nagging voice in the back of her mind—the voice that whispered of defeat, of loss, of choices that couldn't be undone.
And through it all, Kael's words echoed in her mind: Call your retreat.
She couldn't. She wouldn't.
But as the ridge slipped further from her grasp, she began to wonder if she had already lost.