---
The moon hung low and blood-red over the ridge. Nkosana stood at the center of a crumbling stone altar, the air thick with power. Around him, warriors of all kinds gathered—some human, some demon, all bound by the coming war.
"We're outnumbered," whispered Naledi, her dual blades glinting.
"That's never mattered before," Nkosana replied calmly. His voice was deeper now, carrying weight like thunder in the distance.
Across the valley, the enemy surged forward—hundreds of shadow-forged beings led by a towering warlord with horns of obsidian. His name was Kuthula, once a guardian of the spirit realm, now turned to chaos.
Liyana stepped beside Nkosana, pressing a scroll into his hand. "This won't be won with strength alone. You must awaken the memory of the First Flame."
He nodded, then stepped forward as the enemy drew near.
The first clash rang out—swords, teeth, magic—and chaos exploded under the moonlight.
Nkosana moved like a storm, blade in hand, shadow tendrils swirling around him. Each enemy that fell released a burst of dark energy, which he absorbed, growing stronger.
But Kuthula was waiting.
The warlord raised a colossal axe and charged, their weapons clashing with a force that shook the earth. "You think you're ready, child?" Kuthula growled.
"No," Nkosana replied, eyes glowing. "But my destiny doesn't wait for readiness."
As their blades met again, lightning tore the sky.
The final battle had begun.
---