The dawn broke over the ridge, casting a pale, silvery glow across the scorched battlefield. Smoke still lingered in the air, and the breeze carried the faint scent of charred earth. Drakar stood at the cliff's edge, his gaze distant as the soldiers of Aerthas moved below, tending to the wounded and fortifying their defenses.
The aftermath of the ambush weighed heavily on him. Though the assassins had been defeated, the betrayal etched in their sigils lingered in his mind. He had felt the poison's burn and the ache of exhaustion, yet it was the questions that gnawed at his resolve.
Taronis approached, his armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. "The council's message arrived," he began, his voice grim. "They believe the ambush was orchestrated by a rogue faction aligned with the Dral'Thar. But there's another possibility."
Drakar turned to him, his emberlit tattoos faintly pulsing. "Betrayal from within."
Taronis nodded. "Not all within Aerthas trust the alliance. Some fear what your rise could mean."
Drakar's jaw tightened. "Then we'll show them our strength—earned, not inherited. If they fear change, we'll make them fear stagnation more."
The Arrival of ReinforcementsA low, steady horn echoed across the ridge—the sound of reinforcements. The soldiers of Aerthas turned toward the treeline, their expressions a mix of relief and suspicion.
Emerging from the shadows of the forest was a formation of warriors clad in gleaming silver and dark-blue cloaks. At their head was a tall figure who moved with purpose. Her silver-white hair shimmered beneath the morning sun, cascading over her shoulders like starlight.
Taronis's lips twitched in recognition. "Elara Wynvaris—the Frostblade of Eryndral."
Drakar studied her approach. She wore radiant armor etched with intricate carvings of snowflakes and crescent moons, and at her hip hung a crystalline blade that caught the light like frozen fire.
Elara's gaze met Drakar's as she reached the ridge. Her eyes, cold and calculating, flickered with an unreadable light. "So, this is the orc the bards whisper about."
Drakar folded his arms. "I'm Drakar Vorn."
Elara's expression remained stoic. "I expected someone... different."
A faint smile tugged at Drakar's lips. "Good. Expectations are chains."
Elara's gaze softened for a fraction of a second. She turned to Taronis. "The council sent us to reinforce the southern pass. They believe Kaelreach must be fortified."
Taronis frowned. "Kaelreach? It's perilously close to the Dral'Thar's forward positions."
Elara nodded. "Exactly. It's a risk—but if we hold it, we can sever their supply line."
Drakar's emberlit eyes darkened. "And if we fail?"
Elara rested a hand on the hilt of her sword. "Then Aerthas burns."
A Frostbound Ally
As the soldiers set up camp, Drakar observed Elara from a distance. She commanded attention with an ease that bordered on regal. Soldiers responded to her orders without hesitation, their admiration for her unmistakable.
Seris appeared at Drakar's side, arms crossed as she watched the newcomers. "She's impressive, isn't she?"
Drakar's eyes remained on Elara. "She's cold."
Seris chuckled. "She has to be. Her family was one of the first to fall when Eryndral's northern borders collapsed. She became a warrior because no one else could defend what was left."
Drakar exhaled slowly. "She fights so no one else has to lose what she did."
Seris's smile faded. "Exactly."
Drakar's gaze softened. "I'll earn her trust."
Seris's grin returned. "Good. Just... maybe don't call her cold to her face."
A Gathering of Resolve
That night, the camp gathered around the central fire as Elara addressed the assembled soldiers. Her voice was clear and sharp, like the crack of ice.
"The Dral'Thar believe us weak," she began, her crystalline blade unsheathed and glinting in the firelight. "They see us as fragments—pieces of a kingdom long shattered. But they forget that shards of glass cut deeper than steel when forged anew."
The soldiers roared in approval, their fists striking their shields in unison.
Elara's gaze shifted to Drakar. "And you, Drakar Vorn. They call you a force of flame and fury. Will you stand with us as we reclaim our home?"
Drakar stepped forward, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "I will."
For a brief moment, frost and flame seemed to intertwine. And as the camp's war cries echoed into the night, Drakar knew this alliance could either carry them to victory—or into ruin.