The magical alarm howled long, shattering Grayhaven's midnight hush. The
Resonance Rune at the eastern gate flared crimson, rippling like boiling blood.
The sound barked through the night, jolting Valorian soldiers from sleep; they
spilled out of their tents in a panic.
"Move! To positions! Don't panic—hold formation!" an officer shouted.
Steel rang, torches quivered under hurried steps. The soldiers' shadows
danced along the city's stone walls.
Arthur stepped out of the command tent, cloak rumpled, gaze ice-cold.
"Report."
A young guard ran up, breath ragged. "Your Majesty… no enemy in sight. The
alarm went off on its own."
Ren stepped forward, eyes cutting through the dark. "Shadow Troops. Ethereal
assassins. If the rune screamed, they're already here."
Arthur lowered himself, pressed his foot to the ground, and shut his eyes.
Qi coursed outward, threading through earth, walls, and tree roots. He felt
faint heartbeats, held breaths, light steps trying to merge with the shadows.
He opened his eyes. "Twenty bodies. The old market, the bell tower, and the
western rooftops. That's where they are."
Lionel raised his sword. "Twenty-man squads—encircle those points!"
The troops moved, and a sharp cry split the dark. Thud! Thud! Two soldiers
dropped, black daggers buried in their necks. From the gloom, hooded figures
flashed into view—then vanished again.
"Assassins!"
Arthur lifted his hand. "Heavenly Valoria Technique—activate!"
A golden aura washed over the Valorian soldiers. Their eyes sharpened; their
footing steadied. Now they could catch the flickers of shadow that had been
impossible a moment before.
Short, brutal skirmishes erupted at several points. Ren slashed in a blur,
cleaving an assassin. Reyna sprang from a rooftop, her blade punching through a
throat.
In under five minutes, it was over. Eleven assassins dead, nine taken
alive—yet each Valorian squad had still lost one or two men.
Arthur stared at the bodies, jaw tight. "Reinforce the watch. Double the
Resonance Runes. Guard the granaries. If the enemy chooses a war of shadows,
we'll light every corner of this city."
By morning, Grayhaven stirred again. The market opened; the smell of warm
bread mingled with soldiers' sweat. Children ran the narrow alleys, laughing in
small bursts though their eyes flicked warily to the Valorian banners above the
tower.
Arthur left two thousand soldiers in Grayhaven. The rest moved on toward
Dravenloch.
An old merchant whispered to his son, "Strange… they're not enslaving us."
"They're the enemy, Father," the boy answered, baffled. "Why let us live?"
Doubt began to take root in Ethereal hearts.
Toward dusk, Valoria's army reached Dravenloch. High walls loomed, wrapped
in a gleaming violet barrier. The light throbbed like a living heart, pressing
the air heavy against the skin.
Arthur raised a hand. "Prepare a test stone."
They readied the trebuchet; a rune-plated stone arced through the air. It
struck the barrier with a thunderous crack.
Boom!
A wave of violet light rolled over the walls. Layered runes flared like a
thousand eyes snapping open. The ripples shook the ground; the ranks staggered.
Arthur brought the Oculus online. Rune sigils spun in the air. Pain lanced
his skull; blood dripped from his nose.
"I can feel it… this barrier swallows every ranged attack. Catapults,
arrows, sorcery—futile."
Elandor Veythar nodded gravely. "True. But look at this pattern—the barrier
isn't fully solid. People can still pass. If soldiers hug the wall, they can
climb. But…"
Lyra Moonveil stepped in, face taut. "But their bodies will weaken. The
barrier drains qi, scrapes away strength. They might get through, but many will
die before they ever swing a sword."
Darius Thornhelm slammed a fist against his shield. "Then force it! Let them
advance! If thousands charge, some will make it."
Arthur turned, voice like ice. "And how many thousands become corpses at the
foot of the wall?"
Silence.
Seliora Windcrest closed her eyes, whispering. "I can feel the wind around
it… this isn't a shield. It's a living prison."
Kaelenor Mistborn gave a thin chuckle. "The easy way is obvious—hurl in
thousands, let them roast one by one until the wall breaks. But… you're not
that kind of king, Arthur."
Arthur stared long at the pulsing violet. Every ripple felt like a distant
cry, the voices of Dravenloch bound within. "I won't become Mordred. This
barrier can only be brought down from the inside."
Alaric bowed his head, heavy. "Then infiltration is our only path."
Arthur exhaled hard. "Fall back to Grayhaven. We'll prepare an entry."
That night, Grayhaven's square filled with townsfolk. Torchlight flickered
over pale faces as Arthur stood upon a wooden platform.
His voice carried. "Grayhaven is no longer your home. I will destroy this
city along with its stores. I refuse to let an innocent life vanish in the
flames. So—go. Leave this place. Protect your children. Take what you can
before dawn."
The crowd roiled—sobs, shouts, panicked whispers.
"He'll butcher us!" a young man cried.
An old woman shook her head, voice trembling. "No… listen carefully. If
slaughter was what he wanted, he would've done it already."
Fear finally smothered doubt. The townsfolk streamed out of Grayhaven,
shuffling toward Dravenloch.
From the tower, Arthur watched the human tide. "Let them carry the news. The
enemy will believe this was their choice, not our design."
Alaric sighed. "A dangerous game."
"That's exactly why our odds improve," Arthur murmured.
In the command tent, six mages gathered. Lyra chanted; a soft radiance
wrapped their bodies. Shapes shifted: Arthur became a white-haired old
merchant; Alaric, a gaunt man leaning on a staff; Darius, a burly farmer;
Seliora, a village woman; Elandor, a learned elder; Kaelenor, a pale-faced
wanderer.
Lyra panted, sweat beading her temples. "Disguises complete."
Arthur looked each of them in the eye. "We go in with the refugees. From
inside the city, we'll find Dravenloch's barrier core. We bring it down without
spilling civilian blood."
Kaelenor grinned. "At last, a game I enjoy."
Alaric held Arthur's gaze. "If our cover breaks, we all die."
"If that's the price to end this war sooner," Arthur answered, steady, "I'll
pay it."
A beat of silence—and then, nods all around.
Far to the west, another war thundered. Solaris troops surged against the
Sunstones border, black armor gleaming. Iron hooves pounded the earth;
fire-tipped arrows hammered the stone.
"Forward! Take the wall!" a Solaris commander roared.
But a trumpet blared from the ramparts. The golden banner of Sunstones
snapped high; archers loosed a storm of silver-tipped shafts. To the right,
Riverbend's boats surged through the canal, launching water-quenched volleys.
Behind them, Veritas mages intoned a warding liturgy, bathing the Sunstones
wall in a silver-blue glow.
Solaris's first wave shattered.
Astride a black destrier, Lucian Solaris drew his blade. "Why have they not
fallen?!"
His general knelt, shaking. "Your Majesty, their alliance is too tight.
Sunstones, Riverbend, Veritas—they cover every gap!"
Lucian set his sword to the man's throat. "I don't want excuses. I want
victory."
The Solaris ranks froze, fear rippling outward.
Kael whispered, "Give me time, Sire. I'll break them."
Lucian hissed, then lifted the blade away. "Fail again, and your head will
pay."
The second assault thundered in—wilder, bloodier. The tri-kingdom line held.
By dusk, Solaris pulled back, leaving thousands of corpses strewn before the
walls.
On the ramparts, a Sunstones general raised his sword. "As long as we stand
together, Solaris will never breach this border!"
Cheers rolled across the stones, stoking hope.
Lucian stared at the unfallen wall, jaw set. "This isn't over. I'll return…
and you will all be crushed."