The snow-laden forest surrounding Frostvale groaned under the weight of ice and fire's memory. Smoke spiraled skyward from ruined homes, curling into the pale morning light like dark fingers reaching for the heavens. The villagers' screams echoed through the twisted pines, mingling with the distant clatter of metal and the heavy, rhythmic stamping of boots. Kaelen's chest tightened as he surveyed the devastation, the shard within him pulsing like a second heartbeat, demanding blood and fire.
"Formation!" Kaelen barked, his voice slicing through the cold. His Ashborn warriors snapped into line behind him, axes, spears, and blades etched with runes glinting faintly in the dim light. Their breaths misted in the freezing air, hearts hammering, ready to die if necessary.
Varik Stonevein, his axe resting on his shoulder, leaned close to Kaelen. "Don't hold back, shard-bearer. Restraint is a luxury we cannot afford. Show them the power you're hiding."
Kaelen's shadow twitched at his feet, eager and hungry. Yes. Unleash. Kill them all. The whispers rolled through his veins like molten stone, promising him strength beyond measure if he gave in. He shook his head, forcing calm. Not yet.
From the treeline, the Hollow Crown appeared — ten soldiers at first, black armor reflecting the ash-flecked snow, their movements precise and disciplined. But as Kaelen's heart sank, a horn blared, chilling and resonant. Reinforcements emerged like a tide, fifty more, shadows among the trees, their armor etched in faint crimson runes that glimmered as they marched.
Kaelen's breath hitched. He scanned his own vanguard — twenty Ashborn warriors, all brave but clearly outnumbered three to one. Behind him, villagers crouched, wide-eyed and frozen, clutching makeshift weapons.
"Remember your training!" Kaelen shouted, shadow flaring instinctively around his legs. The tendrils of darkness snaked along the snow, wrapping around rocks, trees, and the edges of the battlefield, a silent warning to his soldiers: they were not alone.
The first clash was violent. Kaelen lunged forward, blade meeting shield with a ringing clang. Sparks flew, and the snow beneath their feet was churned to icy sludge. His shadow twisted, coiling around the legs of the nearest soldier and yanking him off balance just long enough for Kaelen's steel to pierce through armor.
Varik circled him, eyes glinting with both admiration and malice. "See? Restraint? Your hesitation costs lives." He brought his axe down on a Crown soldier, crushing through the helm, and laughed as the man crumpled. "If you had just let it loose, you would have finished this in moments."
Kaelen's chest burned, shard thrumming, urging him to end it all in one feeding stroke. But he forced restraint, redirecting his shadow to shield a group of villagers attempting to flee rather than strike his enemies outright. Not like this. Not yet.
Nearby, a young Ashborn warrior — the same boy Kaelen had counseled days ago — struggled to stay upright. A Crown soldier lunged at him, blade aimed at his chest. Kaelen's shadow shot out, gripping the soldier and hurling him into a tree. The boy stumbled back, gasping, but alive.
The shard roared in frustration. You could end this! You could drown them in darkness! Why deny me?
Kaelen tightened his grip on the sword. "Because I'm still me," he whispered. "And I decide."
The Hollow Crown pressed in. Their leader, a tall figure in black armor etched with glowing red runes, raised a horn to his lips. The sound echoed across the snow, a war cry that seemed to suck the warmth from the air. More soldiers emerged from the trees, a tide of black steel ready to crush everything in their path.
Varik's sneer widened. "The test begins. Will you lead, or will your precious restraint betray us?"
Kaelen's shadow flared, thickening into a wall of obsidian darkness, sweeping toward the front lines to intercept incoming attacks. The clash intensified. Steel rang against steel, shadows twisted and struck, snow was churned to bloodied slush. Kaelen's eyes darted constantly, calculating every move, every gap, every possible threat.
A Crown soldier lunged from the left, blade aimed at Kaelen's side. Lira appeared in a blur of silver and red, daggers flashing, sinking into the man's armor before he could strike. She landed beside Kaelen, breathing hard. "Control it," she hissed. "One slip, one surrender to the shard, and we all die."
Kaelen swallowed the shard's fury down, directing his shadow to shield the villagers trapped behind the Ashborn lines. He parried, struck, dodged — every move precise, disciplined, and restrained. His chest ached; every step required immense concentration.
In the chaos, Varik moved again, subtly steering Kaelen toward a gap in the line. His axe slammed into the ground near Kaelen, sparks flying, his words a taunt. "The shard hungers, Kaelen. Let it free. Show your real strength. Or the Ashborn die."
Kaelen's teeth clenched. Not yet.
From the forest's edge, a surviving villager stumbled forward, a small child wrapped in furs, terrified eyes wide. Kaelen's shadow shot out instinctively, curling protectively around the boy, shielding him from flying debris and errant blows. The shard's whispers grew frantic. Feed. Take them all.
Kaelen forced calm, pulling the shadow back, restraining it. "You are mine, not theirs," he murmured, guiding the child behind the lines.
The battle reached its zenith when the Hollow Crown leader stepped forward, rune-inscribed sword gleaming. With a swift motion, he cleaved down at one of Kaelen's closest soldiers, who crumpled under the blow.
Kaelen reacted instinctively, shadow snapping around the soldier, absorbing the strike. He countered with a precise blade swing, cutting the leader's sleeve but barely leaving a mark on the enchanted armor. The shard pulsed violently, eager to consume the enemy entirely.
The Ashborn began to falter, overwhelmed by numbers. Varik's eyes glimmered dangerously. "Do it! One strike! End it!"
Kaelen's shadow surged, almost obeying, but he forced it back. Not yet. Not like this.
Suddenly, a ripple ran through the forest — unnatural, dark, almost liquid. Trees shivered. The snow itself seemed to darken. From the shadows, a new presence emerged: a Shroudbound lieutenant, cloaked in black mist, observing, calculating. Their eyes glimmered like shards of silver in the dark, and Kaelen's chest tightened.
He understood in an instant: this battle was no longer just the Hollow Crown. The Shroudbound were here, watching, waiting, testing him.
Kaelen tightened his grip on the sword, shadow coiling protectively around him and the remaining villagers. He met Varik's gaze, then Lira's. The shard pulsed like a living drum, impatient, hungry.
The real test has begun, it whispered.
And Kaelen, standing amidst the snow, the blood, the shadows, and the chaos, realized that restraint alone might not be enough to save them.