Eryndor didn't stir.
Even as the earth split open and the shadow of the next monster loomed, he remained slumped against Kael's shoulder, breath shallow, the last sparks of his storm flickering faintly around him. He had poured out everything — and now his body demanded its due.
"Stay down, brother," Kael muttered, lowering him gently to the ground, where Lyanna immediately rushed to his side. Her hands trembled as she brushed charred strands of hair from Eryndor's brow, whispering his name as though that alone could hold him to the waking world.
The ground shook again.
From the fissure crawled a creature unlike Pyrrhagon's blazing inferno. This one carried the weight of shadow and stone — an Umbral Colossus, its obsidian form rising higher than fortresses, its eyes glowing with abyssal light. When it moved, the air warped with crushing pressure, like the very laws of nature bowed before it.
The soldiers faltered. Even Calen bit down hard on his lip, spear trembling just slightly in his grip.
But Varian Deynar stepped forward.
The head of the Deynar line, broad-shouldered and iron-jawed, rested his massive sword against one shoulder. His armor was scorched from Pyrrhagon's flames, yet his presence burned brighter than any fire.
"Stand tall," he rumbled, voice carrying across the fractured battlefield. "If that boy can bleed himself dry to shield us, then we'll damn well prove we're worthy of his effort."
The soldiers straightened at once. Even Kael, never one to defer easily, gave a sharp nod.
Varian raised his sword high, and for a moment the battlefield seemed to quiet in reverence. His aura surged — not flame, not storm, but something older, deeper. It was the sheer weight of a man who had stared down death a thousand times and refused to fall.
The Lion of Deynar had unsheathed his fangs.
The Colossus struck first. Its massive arm, carved from living stone, came crashing down with enough force to topple mountains. The ground erupted as it struck — but Varian met it head-on.
Steel rang.
His greatsword, glowing with condensed aura, caught the blow in a clash that sent shockwaves across the field. Soldiers were thrown to their knees, the land split in jagged scars, but Varian didn't budge.
"Move!" he barked, holding the monster in place.
Calen was first to answer, darting along the Colossus' arm like a silver streak, his spear biting into joints of obsidian with relentless precision. Behind him, Rhydor drove his blade into the cracks Calen left behind, widening them until molten ichor gushed like rivers.
Kael moved next, fists blazing. He vaulted upward, striking with raw force that shattered chunks of the Colossus' shoulder, sending shards of stone raining down.
But it wasn't enough. The monster bellowed, a sound that rattled bones and hearts alike, and shadows erupted from its body, tendrils lashing at everything within reach.
"Back!" Varian roared, swinging his greatsword in an arc wide enough to carve a canyon. Aura flared from the blade, cleaving through the tendrils in one clean sweep. His presence alone filled the battlefield with the certainty that the line would not break while he stood.
On the ground, Lyanna held Eryndor close, shielding him from stray blasts with a shimmering barrier of her own. Her eyes never left the battlefield, her jaw tight, her body shaking with the effort to remain still.
She wanted to fight. Every part of her screamed to join her father and brothers. But one look at Eryndor's unconscious form kept her rooted.
You saved us. Now it's my turn to keep you safe.
The Umbral Colossus reared back, gathering energy into its chest. A black sun ignited there, pulsing with the promise of annihilation. Soldiers scattered in terror, shouting prayers and curses alike.
But Varian didn't move.
He inhaled once, the ground cracking under his boots as his aura surged. His sword began to glow — not bright like lightning, not wild like fire, but steady, like the rising sun.
He whispered, almost too soft to hear:
"Deynar does not yield."
And then he struck.
The blade carved upward, a single stroke, but it carried the weight of a lifetime on the battlefield. The black sun split in half, the Colossus' chest torn open with it. A deafening roar followed as the titan crumbled, chunks of obsidian collapsing into the earth, leaving only silence and the echo of Varian's strike.
When the dust settled, Varian stood at the center of the ruin, sword planted in the ground, his chest heaving. His hair was matted with sweat, his armor cracked, but his eyes burned clear and sharp.
He looked back at the unconscious form of Eryndor, Lyanna hovering protectively over him.
And for a fleeting moment, Varian allowed himself a thought he rarely entertained: pride.
Perhaps the boy and I are not so different after all.
The Lion of Deynar had roared, and the world had heard it.
But somewhere far beyond the horizon, darker things stirred — things even Varian's blade had yet to taste.