The storm broke like a tidal wave. Shadow flame tore across the battlefield, devouring stone and steel alike. Screams rang out as warriors were reduced to ash, their weapons clattering uselessly to the ground. Malrik's power was no longer restrained—it poured forth in a cataclysm meant to end all resistance.
Selene staggered under the force of it, silver fire sparking against the onslaught. Her sword trembled in her grasp, the sheer weight of Malrik's fury pressing her to her knees. For a moment, despair whispered—what if this was the end?
Then she heard him.
A raw, guttural cry—not Malrik's, not the echo of shadows—but Rael's.
Her head snapped up. In the heart of the storm, her son still stood. Shackled, bleeding, writhing—but standing. The chains that bound him glowed with fractures of gold, and in his eyes, between the washes of crimson corruption, shards of pure light pulsed like dying stars refusing to go out.
Inside Rael's mind…
Darkness closed in, a void without horizon. Malrik's voice hissed through the emptiness, coiling around him like smoke.
"You are mine, Rael. You were forged for me. You are not a boy—you are blade. Strike when I command. Kill when I demand."
The shadows surged, shaping into monstrous forms—soldiers with hollow eyes, beasts of fire and ash, every nightmare Rael had ever known.
Rael's breath came in ragged bursts. The weight of the chains dragged at his limbs, the warlord's voice gnawed at his will. He wanted to collapse, to surrender. It would be so easy to stop fighting.
But then—her voice.
Faint at first, like an echo carried on wind. "Rael… you are not his weapon. You are mine."
It pierced the darkness, a note of warmth in the endless cold.
Malrik snarled, shadows tightening, trying to drown it out.
"Do not listen. She is weakness. She abandoned you. I claimed you. I gave you power."
Rael clenched his fists, golden sparks crackling at his fingertips. Images flashed through his mind—not of war or torment, but of silver eyes watching him with unyielding love. A lullaby hummed in whispers, hands cradling him when he was small. The memory burned, fragile but real.
"My mother…" His voice trembled, but it was his own. "She never gave me to you. You stole me."
The chains rattled. Light flared along their cracks.
Malrik roared, his voice shaking the void. "Ungrateful wretch!"
But Rael's golden light surged brighter. He braced his feet against the shadows, every heartbeat defying the weight pressing him down. "I am not your blade. I am her son."
On the battlefield…
Selene's chest heaved as the golden cracks along Rael's chains widened. His wings trembled violently, feathers burning away only to regrow in radiant light. The crimson glow in his eyes flickered, swallowed in pulses of gold.
Malrik's fury shook the very ground. The warlord's silhouette towered above, cloaked in endless fire. He lashed out with a wave of darkness so vast it split the sky.
Kieran leapt forward, intercepting it with his blade. The impact hurled him back, blood spilling from his mouth, but he forced himself upright again, muscles trembling. "Selene… he's breaking free. Hold the line!"
Selene planted her sword in the earth, summoning every drop of silver fire she could muster. Light flared outward, forming a shield that bent but did not break under Malrik's assault. Her voice rose once more, fierce and unrelenting.
"Rael! Fight him! You are stronger than his chains!"
A thunderclap split the air.
One chain snapped. Then another.
Golden shards exploded outward as Rael spread his wings wide, fire raining down from his body like shards of a newborn star. His scream tore through the battlefield, not of pain—but of defiance.
Malrik staggered back, shadows writhing like living things. His voice shook with disbelief.
"Impossible…"
But Selene only smiled through her tears. Her son was choosing.
And for the first time, the warlord knew fear.