The night sky burned with unnatural fire, streaks of crimson and violet tearing across the heavens. Beneath it, the city of Eldrath lay in ruin—its stone towers shattered, its streets choked with smoke. Shadows moved through the wreckage, swift and merciless.
Kaelen pressed his back against a half-collapsed archway, his breath shallow. His sword, a long, elegant blade of silver steel, dripped with the dark ichor of the creatures that had torn through the city. He had lost count of how many he had slain. It didn't matter. More would come. They always did.
A flicker of movement. He pivoted, striking out in a perfect arc just as a monstrous form lunged at him from the darkness. The creature shrieked—a twisted thing of blackened bone and pulsing violet veins. It staggered back, clutching its ruined chest, and collapsed into a heap of smoke and decay.
Kaelen wiped the sweat from his brow, his silver eyes scanning the desolation. He had fought in wars before, but this was something else. This was annihilation.
A voice called out. "Kaelen!"
He turned sharply, heart pounding, but relaxed when he saw her.
Lyria.
She moved toward him, her emerald cloak tattered, her twin daggers glistening in the eerie light. A streak of soot ran down her cheek, but her green eyes burned with fury.
"They've breached the inner gates," she said, voice tight with urgency. "The king is dead. We need to go—now."
Kaelen clenched his jaw. King Alric was one of the finest warriors he had ever known. If even he had fallen, then Eldrath was truly lost.
He sheathed his blade and nodded. "Where?"
Lyria glanced over her shoulder. "The Citadel. There's still a chance to stop this."
Another shriek split the air, and the ground trembled beneath them. Kaelen didn't hesitate. Whatever hope remained, however slim, they had to seize it.
With the ruins of Eldrath burning behind them, they ran toward the storm.