The Grand Halls of Eldoria
The grand halls of Eldoria were silent as the five warriors stood before Queen Silvana. They were no longer the reckless children who had entered training years ago each of them now carried themselves with an air of strength and discipline. Their bodies were stronger, their minds sharper, and their hearts steadier. They had been forged in fire, trained by the finest warriors Eldoria had to offer.
Queen Silvana observed them with a solemn expression before speaking.
"You have come far," she said, her voice carrying both pride and gravity. "But before you set out to fulfill your true purpose, there remains one final test."
The room tensed. Even after all they had endured, there was still one more hurdle before they could go after Kaiden.
"The dwarves of Kazadorn, our steadfast allies, have sent word. Their kingdom has come under attack by an orc army an invasion unlike any before. The orcs are stronger, more relentless. Normally, the dwarves would repel such an assault with ease, yet this time, something is different."
She turned her gaze to Kaen. "Your mission is simple, aid the dwarves in battle and uncover the truth behind this unnatural strength."
Kaen stepped forward, placing a hand over his heart in salute. "We accept this mission, Your Majesty."
Queen Silvana nodded and gestured toward Aerion, who stepped forward with a sealed letter bearing the royal sigil.
"This will grant you an audience with King Baldric Stonehammer," Aerion explained. "But be warned, he is not a patient man, nor is he fond of outsiders. Earn his respect, or he will not take you seriously."
The five warriors exchanged glances before turning on their heels, ready to embark on their mission.
Journey to the Mountain Kingdom
The path to Kazadorn was long and winding, leading through thick forests, treacherous mountain passes, and deep valleys shrouded in mist. As they rode, conversation flowed naturally, their camaraderie evident.
"Are dwarves really as grumpy as they say?" Lyra asked, leaning forward on her saddle with an eager grin.
Draven, his beast-like eyes gleaming in the dim sunlight, let out a low chuckle. "If they're anything like Bromir Ironfist, we're in for a long stay."
The mention of their former teacher, a battle-hardened dwarf warrior with a short temper and an iron will, made them all smirk.
"He yelled at me for three months straight," Serine muttered. "Even when I did things right, he still found something to complain about."
Malrik smirked. "I think he just liked yelling."
Raven, riding beside them, chimed in, "Dwarves are a proud people, and rightfully so. Their craftsmanship and warriors have stood the test of time. If they have asked for help, then the situation must be dire."
Kaen nodded. "Then we shouldn't take this lightly. We're not just proving ourselves, we're defending an ally."
Arrival at Kazadorn
The massive iron gates of Kazadorn stood like sentinels against the mountain cliffs, carved with ancient dwarven runes. As they approached, a line of heavily armored dwarves blocked their path, gripping their axes with suspicion.
"Halt! State your business!" one of the guards demanded.
Kaen dismounted and held up the sealed letter. "We are sent by Queen Silvana of Eldoria, responding to your request for aid."
The dwarf took the letter, scanning the royal sigil. His eyes narrowed before he nodded gruffly. "You may enter, but don't expect a warm welcome."
The grand halls of Kazadorn were a marvel of dwarven craftsmanship, massive stone pillars, golden braziers casting flickering light upon walls carved with stories of old battles. At the far end of the great throne room, King Baldric Stonehammer sat upon his throne, his thick beard woven with golden rings. His sharp eyes studied them with little patience.
"So, the elves sent whelps instead of warriors," he grumbled. "I asked for help, not fledglings."
Serine's grip on her claymore tightened, but Kaen raised a hand, stepping forward.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, we are not fledglings. We are the finest warriors trained under Eldoria's best. We are here to fight."
Baldric let out a rough chuckle. "We'll see about that."
He leaned forward, his tone turning serious. "The orcs attacked from the west. Normally, we crush them with ease, but this time… they fought like demons. Stronger, faster, relentless. Something is changing them."
Draven's beast-like eyes flickered with intrigue. "Then we'll find out what it is."
Baldric studied them once more before nodding. "Good. My men will take you to the battlefield at dawn. Rest while you can."
The Battle of the Iron Pass
Dawn came, and with it, war.
The battlefield stretched before them, a narrow pass filled with fallen warriors, both dwarves and orcs. The air was thick with the scent of blood and steel. The ground trembled as another wave of orcs charged.
These were no ordinary orcs. Their eyes burned with an eerie green light, their muscles bulging unnaturally.
Kaen's sword ignited with flames as he clashed with the first wave, his movements precise and deadly.
Serine swung her massive claymore in wide, sweeping arcs, carving through orcs like a force of nature.
Draven's beast eyes glowed as he lunged forward, his claws tearing through flesh and armor alike.
Malrik's abyssal magic snaked through the battlefield, dragging enemies into the darkness.
Lyra raised her hands, a massive storm of lightning crackling at her fingertips. With a single gesture, she unleashed a devastating bolt, incinerating entire ranks.
Hours passed, and though the orcs fought like monsters, the Yakshas fought like legends.
Then, at the heart of the battlefield, they saw him.
A cloaked figure, his hands raised in dark incantation. The source of the orcs' unnatural strength.
"The mage," Raven said, his voice grim.
They moved in to strike, but the mage only smirked.
"You're too late," he whispered. And before they could reach him, his body erupted in magical flames, leaving behind nothing but ashes.
Only his final words remained, carried by the wind.
"The end is near."
To Be Continued…