Chapter 60 – The Crimson Horizon
The dawn came blood-red.
Noah stood on the battlements, watching as the first light of day spilled across the horizon, staining the sky in crimson and gold. It wasn't the gentle warmth of a sunrise but the harsh glow of fire, reflecting off the smoke of villages already burning far beyond their reach.
The Dominion was on the move.
For weeks, their enemy had lingered at the edges of their maps—an unseen hand pushing forward in silence. But silence had broken. Scouts reported columns of soldiers moving through the valley, dragging siege engines across ground scorched black. And above them, like carrion birds circling the dying, the sky darkened with the Dominion's winged sentinels.
It was no longer a question of if. It was a question of when.
---
Behind Noah, the fortress stirred with uneasy life. Soldiers tightened straps on dented armor, smiths hammered through the night to patch broken blades, healers sorted dwindling supplies of herbs. It was a fragile preparation, like patching holes in a ship already sinking.
He heard footsteps approach and didn't need to turn to know it was Lyra. She walked quietly, but the rhythm of her steps was one he had long since learned to recognize.
"You didn't sleep," she said softly.
"Neither did you," Noah replied, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.
Lyra's silence was answer enough. She joined him at the edge of the wall, her gaze steady on the distant smoke. "They'll reach us by nightfall."
"Yes."
"And when they do?"
Noah's grip tightened on the stone. "Then we find out if our oath means anything at all."
---
The war council convened by midday. This time, there were no arguments, no biting words. Only grim acceptance.
Kael spread the maps across the table, his hands tracing the enemy's advance. "They're bringing everything. Foot soldiers, cavalry, constructs, and at least three siege towers. If those reach our walls, we're finished."
Elias leaned forward, his expression carved from stone. "Then we meet them before they reach the walls. Cut the towers down before they close in."
"That means facing their vanguard head-on," Lyra said. "We'd be throwing ourselves against an army twice our size."
Dominique smirked, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Twice our size? I was expecting worse odds. Maybe today's our lucky day."
Her attempt at levity fell flat. The weight in the room was too heavy for jokes.
Noah studied the map, his mind moving quickly, calculating, discarding, reshaping. The oath they had sworn the night before still burned fresh in his memory. This wasn't just strategy anymore. It was a test—not of steel, but of their bond.
"We can't fight them like an army," he said finally. "If we meet them in formation, we'll be crushed. We fight them like shadows. We strike, we vanish, we bleed them piece by piece until the towers fall. Then we pull them into the fortress, where their numbers mean less."
Kael's brow furrowed. "It's a gamble."
"It's survival," Noah answered.
And for the first time, no one argued.
---
By afternoon, the air thrummed with tension. The soldiers took their places, the fortress gates groaning open as the chosen vanguard stepped forward. Noah walked at the head, cloak trailing behind him, his companions flanking him like shards of a broken blade reforged.
Elias marched with his sword gleaming despite its cracks. Dominique spun her daggers idly, though Noah saw the tightness in her jaw. Kael strode like a tower of iron, his presence steady even as stormclouds gathered overhead. Lyra's bow rested in her hands, her eyes fixed not on the ground but on the sky, watching for threats others would miss.
They looked nothing alike, fought nothing alike, believed nothing alike. But for the first time in a long time, Noah felt the truth of their oath settle into his bones.
They were together.
And together, they would stand.
---
The Dominion arrived with the fury of a storm.
From the ridge, Noah saw them descend—an endless tide of soldiers armored in black, banners snapping in the wind, their march shaking the earth itself. Siege towers loomed behind them, monstrous constructs of wood and iron, pushed forward by chains of thralls whose eyes glowed with unnatural light.
Above, winged sentinels shrieked, their shadows slicing across the battlefield.
"Gods," Dominique whispered, her usual sarcasm stripped away. "It's like watching the end of the world."
"No," Noah said. His voice was quiet, but it cut through their fear. "It's the beginning of ours."
And with that, he raised his blade.
---
The first clash was thunder.
Noah's vanguard struck hard and fast, weaving through the enemy ranks like blades of lightning. Lyra's arrows cut through the sentinels in the sky, each shot unerring. Dominique darted in and out of the fray, her daggers flashing as she brought down soldiers twice her size. Elias fought like a wall of steel, every swing of his sword cleaving through armor and bone. Kael moved like a hammer, his strikes shattering shields and sending shockwaves through the ground.
And Noah—Noah was everywhere. His blade sang through the chaos, his voice rallying soldiers who faltered, his presence a fire that refused to die.
But the Dominion did not break easily. For every soldier they felled, two more pressed forward. The siege towers creaked closer, their shadows growing long across the battlefield.
"Second wave!" Kael shouted. "They're pushing hard on the left flank!"
"Hold them!" Noah barked. "Lyra, with me! Dominique, take the right—keep them from circling us!"
The battle raged like a storm without end.
---
Hours blurred into one another, time marked only by the rhythm of steel and screams. Blood slicked the earth, mixing with ash as the horizon burned brighter, redder, darker.
By the time the first siege tower groaned and collapsed under their assault, Noah could barely feel his arms. His body screamed with exhaustion, his lungs burned with smoke—but his spirit burned hotter still.
"We can do this!" he roared, even as his knees threatened to buckle. "We will do this!"
The others echoed his cry, their voices raw but fierce. For a moment—just a moment—it felt as though they could turn the tide.
But then the ground shook.
From the Dominion's ranks emerged something far worse than soldiers or towers. A construct of iron and bone, towering above the battlefield, its eyes glowing with crimson fire. It moved with a terrifying grace, its steps leaving craters in the earth.
The Dominion's war-golem.
The soldiers around it cheered, their chants rolling like thunder. Fear rippled through Noah's ranks, soldiers faltering, eyes wide with despair.
And in that moment, Noah understood. This was not just another battle. This was the breaking point—the moment their oath would either shatter once more, or prove itself unbreakable.
---
Noah staggered forward, planting his blade in the ground to steady himself. He lifted his head, meeting the burning eyes of the war-golem.
"This is it," he said hoarsely, his voice carrying across the chaos. "Not tomorrow, not next week—now. This is where we stand. Together. Or not at all."
The others gathered around him, forming a circle as they had on the battlements the night before. Not perfect, not unbroken—but whole.
Kael lifted his shield. Dominique twirled her daggers one last time. Elias raised his battered sword. Lyra nocked an arrow, her gaze steady despite the storm.
And Noah… Noah lifted his blade, his heart steady at last.
The war-golem roared, a sound that split the air, shaking the battlefield to its core. Soldiers scattered before it. The crimson horizon blazed brighter, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
"Together," Noah whispered.
And they charged.