The canyon was a wound of stone and shadow, and night bled into it like ink. Torches flickered along the rebel lines, their flames dim against the rolling stormclouds. Rain slicked the rock, whispering down the jagged walls, pooling in cracks and grooves until the earth felt alive beneath their feet.
Kael stood at the canyon's throat—the narrowest pass where two cliffs nearly kissed across the chasm. His hand rested on Liora's wrist, her pulse beating steady, keeping him anchored. Beyond them, silence stretched—a silence heavy as a drawn blade.
Then came the sound.
Hooves.
Distant, growing, a thunder of iron against stone. The canyon itself trembled beneath the weight. The Black Sigil were coming. Not in scattered probes as before, but as a flood—united, unrelenting.
Scarred Leader spat into the mud. "They come."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Hold your ground. Let the canyon choke them."
His words carried no flourish, no roaring command—but the rebels straightened as though steel had entered their spines. Something in his voice, quiet and certain, held them.
Liora whispered, leaning closer, her breath warm against his rain-chilled skin. "Kael… they'll try to break us in one charge."
He nodded. "Then we break them instead."
---
The Charge
The first wave struck like lightning. Riders in black, their helms crowned with cruel horns, swept down the pass. Their horses' hooves struck sparks, their blades caught the torchlight like fire.
"Now!" Kael barked.
Rebels shoved loose stones into the path, boulders tumbling down. Arrows and knives rained from the higher ledges, guided by Rylan and Kaela. Horses screamed, stumbling, bodies crashing against each other in the narrow funnel.
Kael felt it all—the tremor of collapsing stone, the vibration of hooves through the earth, the whistle of arrows slicing air. His senses wove together a map of chaos, sharper than sight.
"Left flank! Push them into the wall!" Kael shouted.
Rebels surged, spears braced. The canyon walls became weapons, crushing riders into stone. Blood slicked the rocks, vanishing into the rainwater.
Liora's blade flashed at Kael's side. She fought with ferocity, her strikes precise, protecting his blind spots without hesitation. Twice she pulled him back from blades meant to gut him. Twice his hand shot out, catching her arm, dragging her away from a killing stroke she didn't see.
They moved like halves of one whole—instinct, breath, heartbeat.
---
The Captain's Fury
From the ridge above, the Black Sigil captain raised his hand. A horn blast cut through the storm.
The second wave descended.
These were not scouts, not vanguard—they were shock troops. Heavily armored, their mounts cloaked in iron. They hit the rebel line like a hammer against glass.
The canyon roared with screams and steel. Rebels staggered, some crushed outright beneath the weight.
Kael staggered with the tremor, his fever flaring hot. For a heartbeat, his knees nearly buckled—
—and Liora's hand seized his arm. "Kael!"
Her voice was sharp, grounding him. He clenched his jaw, forcing air into his lungs.
"I'm here," he rasped. His head tilted. He felt the captain's presence, a dark weight pressing on the canyon like a stormcloud. "But so is he."
The captain's voice carried, cold and sharp. "You think shadows and stones will stop me? I'll grind you into the earth."
Scarred Leader roared back, spitting blood. "Then choke on our bones, bastard!"
The clash deepened. Blades screamed, hooves tore stone to powder. Rebels were dying—but so were riders. The choke point bled them, turned their numbers into a curse.
---
The Turning Point
Kael raised his hand suddenly. "All units—fall back ten paces!"
Confusion rippled. Scarred Leader snarled. "What are you doing—?"
"Trust him!" Liora snapped, eyes fierce.
The rebels obeyed, retreating into the tighter throat of the canyon.
The captain urged his men forward, sensing weakness. They thundered into the gap—
—and the cliffs shuddered.
With a single gesture, Kael directed. "Now! Collapse it!"
Rebels who had worked for hours loosened the final supports. Boulders groaned, then crashed down in an avalanche of stone and mud. The canyon exploded with dust and screams. Horses toppled, riders were crushed, chaos erupted in the Black Sigil ranks.
The rebels cheered, a raw, defiant sound.
But Kael did not. His head tilted, listening. Through dust, through screams, through falling stone—he still felt the captain's presence. Unbroken. Unyielding.
"He's still coming," Kael whispered.
---
Fire in the Mist
The dust parted, and the Black Sigil captain emerged. His armor gleamed wet black, his horned helm glinting with firelight. His horse was a beast of nightmare, its eyes burning ember-red.
He raised his sword, flames licking along its edge. The canyon seemed to shudder beneath the sight.
Liora's breath hitched. "Kael…"
Kael stepped forward, though his body trembled. "I hear him."
The captain's laughter was low, thunderous. "Blind prince. Do you think you can defy me?"
Kael lifted his chin. "I already have."
The words hung sharp in the storm.
The captain spurred his beast forward. The canyon shook with its charge.
Kael gripped his blade. Liora shifted beside him, her presence steady, unyielding.
Scarred Leader raised his axe. "Then we die standing."
"No," Kael said, his voice cold steel. "We live. Together."