The night split open with fire.
Southwatch's walls groaned under the assault—arrows igniting midair, obsidian blades flashing in the torchlight. The Obsidian Order swept forward like a black tide, and at their head burned Mira, her corrupted flame carving the sky in jagged arcs of shadow-fire.
The rebels rallied at the gate, steel clashing, voices raised in desperate cries. Smoke and blood filled the air, choking, relentless.
Elira stood at the heart of it, fire surging from her hands. It felt alive, writhing, both hers and not hers. Every strike lit up the battlefield, scattering foes, but with every burst she felt the whispers in the flame tug at her control.
"Hold the line!" Auren's voice rang out, clear, commanding, his sword flashing. He moved with fierce precision, cutting through the Order's vanguard, rallying the rebels by sheer presence.
But the enemy was unyielding. They pressed harder, a dark wave trying to crush Southwatch underfoot.
Elira threw her flame in a sweeping arc, clearing space around the gate. The rebels cheered—but their voices faltered as Mira rose into the air, her fire curling black, unnatural.
> "Flameborn!" Mira's voice cracked across the battlefield. "You're not their savior. You're their ruin."
She hurled fire downward—black fire that clung to stone and flesh alike. Screams tore the night.
Elira countered, her own flames bursting upward, clashing midair. The impact shook the walls, sparks raining over friend and foe alike. The ground trembled as if the city itself groaned under their power.
"Stay with me!" Auren shouted, driving his blade into an advancing knight of the Order. Blood sprayed—but in the chaos, another blade struck from behind.
"Auren!"
Elira's scream cut through the din as she saw the steel pierce his side. He staggered, his sword slipping, blood darkening his tunic. The rebels around him faltered, cries of alarm rising.
Rage exploded in Elira's chest. The flame roared, wild and unrestrained, her sigils burning white-hot. She unleashed a torrent of fire so fierce it melted steel, reducing Mira's vanguard to ash in seconds.
The rebels stared, stunned—not at the victory, but at the sheer, terrifying force unleashed.
Elira rushed to Auren's side, catching him before he fell. His face was pale, his breaths shallow, blood staining her hands.
"Stay with me," she whispered fiercely, tears stinging her eyes. "I can't lose you. Not now."
But around them, the battlefield raged on, Mira's laughter echoing through the smoke.