The eastern sky began to turn pale, covered in a scarlet hue like a wound that had yet to heal. A thin mist hung over the fields of reeds, wrapping the world in silence before the battle. Our troops had been moving since early morning. No one made a sound, as if they knew that our steps would change history, or end it. On my horse, Lysette approached, clad in light black and silver armor, her worn cloak rolled up at her waist. "Scouts report that the Order's forces are burning the fields south of Arvellis. A starvation tactic. They will not retreat." I nodded. "Then we must not hesitate either." We reached the top of a hill overlooking the city of Arvellis. In the distance, thin smoke could be seen rising from several villages on its outskirts. The city walls were lined with terrified civilians, and across the valley, the Order of the Light's troops were lined up in perfect order, clad in dazzling white gold armor. In the middle of the line stood a familiar figure.
Seraphine. She was no longer the maiden of the ceremony. She wore a golden-white robe, a crown of light on her head, and a sacred staff in her right hand. Her figure shone among the troops like a symbol of salvation… or judgment. Lysette looked at me. "Are you sure you still want to protect those who killed you?" I closed my eyes. Memories of blood and fire came flooding back. But behind it all, there were the small faces of beastkin children laughing in refugee camps, old elves teaching protective magic to young humans, and Kurins willing to share their last meal. "I am not saving the past," I said finally. "I am saving the possibility of the future." Just as the sun was about to set, the Order's army moved.
But we were already down the hill. The first shout that erupted from our vanguard was not a war cry, but a warning cry. We spread out, a mixed formation of dwarves in the center with siege weapons, beastkin and humans on either side, elves and demons in the rear, ready with support magic. Holy arrows swooped down from the air, but were blocked by Lysette's magic shield. "Lower formation! Guard the left!" I shouted. Amidst the roar of battle, I charged forward alone. Seraphine looked at me, and it was as if the world had stopped for a moment. Our gazes met.
"Arven…" she whispered from a distance, then the voice changed, loud and cold, "DEMON KING RAELZAR! SURRENDER!" I answered without hesitation, "My name is Raelzar, but my soul is still Arven. And I will not surrender… for you are the ones who surrender to hatred." Seraphine's staff rose, forming a large circle of light. But I was prepared. Black and blue flames erupted from the ground, separating the two armies. A boundary. A challenge. I jumped off my horse, standing in the middle of the field. "If you wish to force the world to accept one truth, then face the truth you have buried."
Seraphine stepped forward. Behind her, the knights formed a sacred formation. Behind me, the creatures who had been hunted for their appearance and origins stood together. And the world held its breath. Because what was about to happen was not just a battle, but a final judgment between what was called the light… and what they called the darkness. Seraphine stood just a few feet away from me now. The ground between us was still scorched by the flames of magic that had just erupted, forming an invisible line—the boundary between past and future. "Arven," she said again, this time more softly, like a reluctant prayer. "You can still choose. I know your heart is still in that demon's body."