The air shimmered as if reality itself held its breath. The first of the Unseen Ones stepped fully through the breach—a towering wraith-like figure, its body shifting like smoke, eyes like hollow stars. With each step, the ground withered beneath it, flowers shriveling, stones cracking from ancient pressure.
Nkosana stood at the front lines, the reforged blade humming in his grip. Around him, warriors of every clan formed ranks, expressions tight but resolute. No one spoke. There was no room left for doubt.
The creature let out a soundless cry—felt more than heard. In its wake, others followed. The Unseen Ones spilled into the world like a flood of ghosts, trailing shadows that snuffed out torchlight and chilled the heart.
Lira flanked Nkosana, her eyes narrow. "They don't move like flesh. They move like memory."
"Then we unmake them," Nkosana replied. "Strike where they're weakest—at the soul."
Kaede launched the first strike. Explosive runes lit the sky, breaking the silence with blinding flashes. The creatures recoiled—but did not fall.Matsu appeared atop the battlements, his voice echoing a forgotten incantation. Glyphs erupted from the stones, forming glowing chains that wrapped around the front wave of enemies, halting their advance—briefly.
Then they began to fight back.
The battlefield descended into chaos. Magic collided with shadow. Arrows zipped through nothingness. Warriors screamed as unseen claws raked their minds more than their bodies.
In the middle of it, Nkosana moved like a storm—his blade cleaving through wraiths, his shadow magic igniting with fire. Each kill fed him, but also burned him from the inside. He felt his humanity slipping with every strike.
But he couldn't stop. Not now.
Because at the heart of the enemy swarm stood a familiar silhouette—tall, regal, cloaked in darkness.
It was the Veiled King. And he was smiling.
—