CHAPTER 2 — THE LAST STAND
The morning sky above Akshar darkened under a sea of enemy banners.
The Valrath Empire's one million strong army spread across the horizon like a living tide of steel.
But on Akshar's frontlines, only one man moved forward.
General Draven Kael.
His steps were steady.
His black cloak, torn from countless battles, swayed behind him like the wings of a demon descending.
Dozens of Valrath generals rode ahead of their troops, laughing.
"Is this all Akshar sends?"
"One man? A suicide offering?"
Draven didn't answer.
He simply raised one hand.
From behind him, thirty riders of the Heavenly Demon Cavalry rode out not the full force, merely a small vanguard.
Yet those thirty carried an aura that made even seasoned Valrath veterans grip their spears tighter.
A SMALL CLASH BEFORE THE END
"Kill them," one Valrath general ordered.
Three sub-commanders charged forward with two hundred elite soldiers.
They never reached Draven.
WHUMMMM!
Seris Vaelwind The Arrow of Death released a single arrow.
Behind him stood his personal elite squad, the Silent Quivers
archers trained to synchronize perfectly with Seris's shots.
One arrow from seris
Three heads flew.
The sub-commanders fell before their troops could blink.
A gasp ran through the Valrath frontlines.
"Archer… Seris Vaelwind…!"
But before fear could settle
BOOOOM!
Garruk Stoneborne The Giant crashed into the enemy formation like a living boulder.
His hammer shattered shields. His roar shook bones.
On the right flank, Kaelis Drayden's sword sang through the air like wind cutting silk. Bodies collapsed before soldiers even realized their throats were gone.
And finally
The Axe Twins entered the fray.
Two whirlwinds of iron and blood, carving a crescent of carnage so fast the enemy ranks broke within seconds.
In less than a minute…
Two hundred enemies fell.
Not one of Draven's men received a scratch.
The Valrath generals were forced to retreat several steps, rattled.
"This… this is why the empires never touched Akshar…"
A truth that echoed across history:
"Facing the Heavenly Demon Cavalry means paying with your own life."
But the small clash ended as quickly as it began.
Because something far more important was waiting.
A messenger from the palace galloped toward Draven, face pale.
"General… His Majesty summons you. Immediately."
Draven's frown deepened.
He returned to the capital with the cavalry vanguard, entering the throne hall where King Thorne Vloecinius stood alone
no ministers, no guards.
Just the king… holding a golden scroll.
"Draven," the king spoke softly. "This is an Imperial Decree."
The general's breath stilled.
King Thorne slowly unrolled the scroll.
"In the name of the Empire, by the authority of the Imperial Bloodline…
General Draven Kael is ordered to evacuate Akshar immediately, along with the Heavenly Demon Cavalry, selected citizens, and chosen servants.
He is forbidden to participate in the coming war.
Failure to obey will be considered treason."
Draven's voice shook for the first time in years.
The king exhaled heavily.
"Because… you are blood of the Empire."
Draven froze.
"What?"
"Your mother was the last emperor's concubine. Before she died, she left a child behind you. The previous emperor hid the truth to protect you from the royal succession struggles."
Thorne's hands trembled.
"I have kept this secret for all these years… because I feared what fate would do to you."
Draven stared, unable to speak.
"You were supposed to be protected…"
"But instead, you became the shield protecting us."
Thorne drew a golden scroll.
The Imperial Decree of Exile.
The one decree no one could defy.
"Draven Kael, Half-blood Prince of Akshar…
I command you to take the Heavenly Demon Cavalry and flee by the sea
Draven's jaw clenched. "I refuse. My place is here—"
"IF YOU STAY, AKSHAR DIES."
Thorne's roar shook the chamber.
"The Valrath Empire's main force moves at dawn. One million soldiers. I cannot stop them. Akshar will fall."
His voice broke.
"You… must live. Our bloodline must survive. Our hope must survive."
He gripped Draven's shoulders.
"You are not running away…
You are carrying Akshar's future."
For the first time in his life
Draven bowed his head.
"…Brother."
Night fell.
The western port glowed with torchlight as Akshar prepared its last gamble.
Ships were loaded with:
Supplies, steel, food and everything they could carry.
The atmosphere was heavy fear, hope, heartbreak mixing as one.
As Draven boarded the flagship, King Thorne stood at the docks, wind blowing his cloak wildly.
"Live well, Draven," Thorne said.
"Live… and build a future beyond war."
The ships slowly sailed into the dark sea.
Akshar faded into the mist behind them.
Days passed.
Quiet. Calm. Too calm.
Then the sky twisted.
Clouds swirled unnaturally.
Winds screamed.
Waves rose like mountains.
"GENERAL! SOMETHING'S WRONG WITH THE SEA!"
A massive whirl spun in the distance.
Electricity crackled around it.
Not a whirlpool.
A tornado made of lightning.
Seris shouted, "That's not natural! Brace yourselves!"
Garruk grabbed the mast.
Kaelis secured the ropes.
Ulghar yelled for men to hold the cargo.
FLASH!
A blinding explosion of white light slammed into them.
It felt like the world tore apart.
Draven held onto the railing with everything he had.
"HOLD ON! DON'T LET GO!"
Another flash like the sky being ripped open
Then
Silence.
When Draven opened his eyes…
The sea was calm.
The sky was blue.
Birds were chirping.
Their ships were resting on a white-sand shore.
Forests stretched endlessly.
Mountains pierced the clouds.
The air smelled clean and fresh nothing like Ironflame.
Garruk blinked. "…Where are we?"
Seris scanned the horizon. "No map shows this place."
Kaelis walked beside Draven.
"General… what do we do now?"
Draven stepped onto the shore.
Dragonfang riders formed behind him.
He stared at the untouched, wild, boundless land.
And said quietly yet firmly:
"Now… we build a new Akshar