The Dominion war room was dim, lit only by flickering torches that cast shifting shadows over the cold stone walls. Warlord Kazreth stood at the head of the war table, his clawed fingers tapping a steady rhythm against the wood. His orange eyes burned with anticipation as the doors creaked open, revealing a bloodied Dominion messenger.
The soldier approached quickly, bowing low despite the weight of his battered armor. "My lord," he began, his voice shaking, "the report from Blackthorn Forest is here. Morrath's forces secured victory... but suffered significant losses."
Kazreth's fingers stilled, his gaze sharp as he leaned forward. "Losses?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Speak plainly, soldier."
The messenger nodded, unrolling a parchment with trembling hands. "Vivienne Corvalis, the traitor strategist, has been killed," he said cautiously. "Her death was gruesome—she fell during the ambush. Morrath's forces are battered, and their morale has taken a severe blow."
Kazreth's lips twisted into a savage grin, his fangs glinting in the dim light. "Vivienne... dead?" he said, his tone almost disbelieving. "The traitor who dared betray the Dominion has met her end."
The soldier nodded again, though he did not dare meet Kazreth's gaze. "Yes, my lord. Without her guidance, Morrath's forces will struggle to recover. However, they did manage to reclaim some of the stolen artifacts."
Kazreth's grin faltered slightly, his claws scraping lightly across the table. "Reclaimed artifacts," he muttered, his tone darkening. "It seems Morrath refuses to stay down. But no matter—this setback will cripple his ambitions."
Straightening, he turned his gaze to the soldiers in the room. "Morrath may have survived, but his momentum is broken," he declared. "With Vivienne gone, his forces are vulnerable. It's time to strike a decisive blow."
The temperature in the room dropped sharply as dark mist began to seep into the corners of the chamber. Kazreth's claws stiffened instinctively as Malvaris materialized, his pale form emerging like a shadow given life. "Ah, Kazreth," the Watcher said smoothly, his lips curling into a smirk. "I hear you've received good news."
Kazreth turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he faced the enigmatic figure. "Vivienne is dead," he said, his voice steady but laced with triumph. "Morrath will stumble without her."
Malvaris approached the table, his fingers brushing lightly over the map. "Indeed," he said, his tone filled with mock reverence. "Her loss is... significant for him. But do not underestimate Morrath's resilience."
Kazreth's claws tapped against the table, his gaze cold. "What do you suggest, Watcher?" he asked. "You always have something to say."
Malvaris chuckled softly, his tone dark. "Reclaim the Ridgeway Pass," he said. "Its loss was an insult to the Dominion, and Morrath relies on it for access to his newly conquered territories. Cut him off, and his forces will be spread thin."
Kazreth considered this, his orange eyes narrowing as he studied the map. "The pass," he muttered. "It's a bottleneck. If we control it, Morrath's movements will be crippled."
Malvaris nodded, his smirk deepening. "Precisely," he said. "Let him hold his castle for now—it is too fortified to breach. Instead, bleed him by taking away his resources and reinforcements. His forces will collapse from within."
Kazreth straightened, his claws flexing as a grin spread across his face. "Four days," he said, his voice resolute. "Four days to plan and execute. The pass will be ours again."
Malvaris began to fade into the mist, his voice lingering. "A wise decision, Warlord. Strike decisively, and let the Demon Lord feel the weight of his losses."
…Kazreth stood at the center of the command tent, the map of Ridgeway Pass spread before him, marked with red and black sigils denoting planned troop positions. His remaining generals flanked him, their expressions hard as they studied the terrain. "This operation must be flawless," Kazreth began, his voice cold and commanding. "The pass is not just a target—it's a statement."
A new general entered the tent, his towering frame clad in dark, rune-inscribed armor. General Kaelor, known for his precision and brutality on the battlefield, stepped forward, his silver-gray eyes scanning the map with interest. "Warlord," Kaelor said, his tone formal but firm. "Your directive to take the pass is sound. However, Morrath's forces are resilient. They will not fall easily."
Kazreth's claws tapped the table as he regarded Kaelor with measured approval. "That's why we strike decisively," Kazreth replied. "We control the high ground, flank their forces, and pin them at the choke point."
Kaelor nodded, his gauntleted hand hovering over the map. "Position archers and mages here, along the ridges," he said, pointing to the elevated terrain. "They'll suppress enemy movement while the infantry engages directly."
Another general, armored in crimson and black, leaned forward, his scarred face tense. "And the cavalry?" he asked. "Do we hold them in reserve, or use them for the killing blow?"
Kazreth's lips curled into a sharp grin. "The cavalry strikes when Morrath's forces are trapped," he said, his claws tracing a line through the valley. "When they're pinned, we'll crush them from all sides. No retreat. No survivors."
Kaelor folded his arms, his expression thoughtful. "What of Morrath himself?" he asked. "He is no ordinary foe, and his shadow magic makes him unpredictable."
Kazreth's orange eyes narrowed as he stared at the map. "Morrath will come," he said darkly. "His arrogance won't let him abandon the pass without a fight. Let him come, and we'll bury him under his own failures."
The room fell into a tense silence as Kazreth's words hung heavy in the air. Soldiers outside the tent prepared their weapons and armor, the rhythmic clang of steel echoing in the cold night. Kaelor exchanged a glance with the other generals before speaking again. "Four days to prepare," he said. "I will ensure our forces are ready."
Kazreth stepped back from the table, his armored frame casting long shadows across the tent as the torchlight flickered. "Good," he said, his voice filled with finality. "This time, we'll take the fight to Morrath. He will feel the weight of every loss."
Kaelor nodded, his expression firm. "The pass will be ours, Warlord," he said. "And Morrath will regret ever crossing the Dominion."
Kazreth turned toward the tent's entrance, his claws tightened as he stared into the night. "Make no mistake," he said, his tone cold and unyielding. "This time, there will be no retreat for him—or his allies."