The horn's call still rang in Lucien's ears as he sprinted from the barracks, sword belted at his side and cloak flying behind him. The palace was waking in a rush of confusion—servants scurrying, guards shouting, the clatter of armor echoing down stone corridors. Lucien's men, drilled to readiness, were already assembling in the courtyard, faces pale but resolute in the torchlight.
He counted them quickly as they fell into ranks: twenty-five in all, every man handpicked for loyalty, skill, and the willingness to follow him into the unknown. Some were barely more than boys, their armor too large and their eyes too wide, but others were seasoned guards or ambitious squires with the hard look of survivors. They snapped to attention as Lucien approached, their discipline a sharp contrast to the chaos around them.
"Shadow Guard!" Lucien called, his voice carrying over the din. "With me. We move as one."
They fell in behind him, boots thudding in unison as they crossed the courtyard and made for the north wall. Lucien's mind raced, sifting through reports and rumors: strange tracks, livestock slaughtered, travelers gone missing. He'd suspected for weeks that something was stalking the kingdom's borders, something more than mere bandits or wolves.
As they reached the gatehouse, Captain Gareth—one of the king's most trusted knights—met them, his face grim. "Your Highness. Scouts spotted movement in the woods. Too many for a bandit gang. They're not answering hails."
Lucien nodded. "Archers on the wall. Swords and shields at the gate. I'll take my company to reinforce the breach."
Gareth hesitated, then stepped aside. There was no question who commanded here.
Lucien led his men up the narrow stairs onto the wall. The city spread out below, lanterns flickering in the predawn gloom. Beyond the outer fields, the forest loomed—a black mass, silent and watchful. Somewhere out there, danger waited.
He looked to his men. "Remember your training. Stay in formation. Watch each other's backs. If we hold the line, nothing gets through."
The Shadow Guard nodded, their faces set. Lucien felt a surge of pride—and fear. This was their first true test, and the stakes were higher than he'd ever let on.
He'd pushed them hard in the weeks since their formation. Each day began before dawn with forced marches, sprints in armor, and weapons drills until their arms ached. He'd taught them to fight in close formation, shields locked and blades ready, to move as a single unit rather than a mob. They'd practiced archery, javelin throws, and even hand-to-hand wrestling in the mud. Lucien had insisted on discipline above all—no brawling, no sloppiness, no breaking ranks. He'd drilled them in signals and silent communication, so they could act without shouting orders.
But training was one thing. Facing a real enemy was another.
A shout from the far end of the wall snapped Lucien from his thoughts. "Movement! North field!"
He peered into the gloom. Shapes emerged from the treeline—figures, hunched and loping, moving with unnatural speed. The archers tensed, arrows nocked.
"Hold," Lucien commanded. "Wait for my signal."
The figures drew closer, and Lucien's stomach tightened. They were not men. Their limbs were too long, their eyes glinting with a feral light. Monsters—gnolls, perhaps, or something worse.
The first wave broke from the trees, howling. Lucien raised his arm. "Loose!"
A volley of arrows hissed down, striking the front ranks. Some of the creatures fell, but others surged forward, undeterred. They crashed against the outer palisade, clawing and snarling.
"Shields!" Lucien shouted. The Shadow Guard formed up behind the gate, shields locked, spears braced. The city guards took position to either side, but Lucien's men were the anchor.
The monsters battered at the gate, their claws scraping wood and iron. Lucien waited, heart pounding. He could hear the breath of his men, the creak of leather and steel. He counted the seconds.
The gate shuddered, then burst inward. The first creature lunged through—a gnoll, its fur matted with blood, jaws snapping. Lucien met it with a thrust of his sword, driving it back. His men closed ranks, spears stabbing, shields holding firm.
The fighting was brutal and close. The monsters were strong, but the Shadow Guard's discipline held. They fought as one, covering each other, pushing back every assault. Lucien moved among them, parrying blows, calling orders, dragging wounded men to safety.
He saw Roland, his brother, leading a squad on the left flank, his sword flashing in the torchlight. Elise stood atop the wall, her hands glowing as she hurled bolts of magic into the fray. For a moment, Lucien felt a surge of hope—his family, his friends, his men, all fighting together.
But the enemy kept coming. More shapes poured from the woods—larger, faster, their eyes burning with unnatural hatred. Lucien realized with a chill that this was no random attack. Someone, or something, was driving these monsters.
He rallied his men. "Hold the line! No retreat!"
They fought on, sweat and blood mingling on the stones. Lucien's arms ached, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He saw men fall, wounded or worse, but the line never broke.
At last, as dawn broke over the city, the enemy began to falter. The monsters hesitated, then turned and fled into the woods, leaving their dead behind.
A ragged cheer rose from the defenders. Lucien lowered his sword, exhaustion washing over him.
He looked to his men—bloodied, battered, but standing. They had held. They had proven themselves.
Captain Gareth approached, clapping Lucien on the shoulder. "Well done, Your Highness. If not for your company, we might have lost the gate."
Lucien nodded, too tired for words. He knew this was only the beginning. The monsters would return, stronger and smarter. The Demon King's shadow was growing.
He gathered his men in the yard, praising their courage, tending their wounds. He promised them rest, but only for a day. Tomorrow, the training would resume. They would be ready for whatever came next.
As the city returned to uneasy peace, Lucien stood atop the wall, watching the sun rise over the forest. He thought of the dangers still lurking, the battles yet to come. He thought of the vow he had made—to protect his kingdom, no matter the cost.
And as the light touched the city's spires, he made a silent promise: We will not fall. Not again.