The Killing Curse was enough to make even Sauron, now at the height of his restored power, feel a flicker of danger.
Dark energy surged around him like grasping shadowed claws, condensing instantly into a dense black shield. With a thunderous detonation, the curse collided with the barrier. The two forces annihilated each other, unleashing a violent shockwave that crushed the air itself and tore open a vast vacuum in the sky.
Below, Sauron's army was caught in the blast, countless orcs and corrupted creatures were hurled away like broken leaves. Only the wizard host behind Sylas, protected by the massive magical barrier, escaped the worst of the devastation, though the shield rippled violently. Another few impacts of this magnitude, and even their combined magic would fail.
Sylas staggered back several steps, but Sauron remained utterly unmoved in the sky, as though the explosion had never touched him.
Yet Sauron's burning red gaze fixed on Sylas, filled with unmistakable malice.
"Impressive," he said coldly. "In mere decades, you have grown this far. Give it a few hundred years more, and you might truly rival me."
He did not hesitate.
A colossal tide of dark power surged outward, drawn from the very fabric of the world, rushing in from all directions to crush Sylas utterly.
Before it could reach him, blinding holy light erupted.
Galadriel stepped forward, radiant and unyielding. Nenya, the Ring of Water, shone upon her hand as a luminous shield formed before her, holding firm against the overwhelming darkness.
At the same time, Glorfindel blazed like the rising sun, twin blades of light in his hands as he cleaved through the encroaching shadows.
Elrond, gripping his elven blade, called upon Vilya, sending torrents of power surging forward like a sundered sea, tearing a path through Sauron's dark flood. Even the storm-choked sky above split apart beneath the clash.
Gandalf struck his staff against the ground and chanted, releasing a holy shockwave that rolled outward in widening rings, forcing Sauron's power back step by step.
Above them all, Sylas summoned his Phoenix guardian. It expanded into a colossal, silver-lit form, its wings tearing through the darkness like moonlight cutting night.
At the same time, Sylas lifted into the air, his body dissolving into a swift stream of pale mist. Without broom or mount, he moved freely through the sky, striking as he flew. This was the perfected flight magic, far superior to Apparition, allowing movement and spellcasting without pause.
Together, they pressed Sauron from all sides.
Still, he did not retreat.
Dark tendrils erupted from his form, lashing out endlessly. His gaze settled upon Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel, lingering on the Rings upon their hands.
A cruel smile curved beneath his helm.
"Those Rings were forged from my knowledge," Sauron said. "To wield my craft against me is folly. Since you stand before me now, you may as well return them."
He unleashed a dreadful spell.
The surrounding darkness twisted, rushing not at their bodies, but at the Three Elven Rings themselves.
The Rings trembled.
To the horror of their bearers, they began to resonate with the call, drawing in the dark power as if recognizing its source.
Gandalf, Galadriel, and Elrond went pale. At once, they ceased using the Rings entirely, turning all their strength inward to suppress and seal them. If Sauron's corruption entered the Rings, their bearers would be lost, reduced to thralls, bound to his will through the very tools meant to preserve Middle-earth.
Forced to restrain the Rings, the three could no longer fight at full strength.
The balance shifted instantly.
Glorfindel bore the brunt of Sauron's renewed assault. A blow of concentrated darkness struck him, and he cried out, his radiance faltering as his strength began to wane.
Sauron's eyes burned brighter.
The land darkened as his power swelled further, manifesting as countless nameless horrors, twisted spirits and shadow-beasts, pouring toward Sylas, the Guardians, and the nearly ten thousand wizards behind them.
Hundreds of elite wizardsjoined forces to assault the Witch-king of Angmar, while the remaining sorcerers worked together to contain the orcs, trolls, and undead. Among them, the undead were the most dangerous, moving with lightning speed, bodies harder than iron, their very presence steeped in curses and malignant power. Empowered by Sauron, they had evolved into far deadlier abominations.
Yet the sorcerers remained sheltered behind layered magical barriers. The undead could not break through; those that charged forward blindly were instantly reduced to ash upon contact with the shields. Because these defenses had been established early, the wizarding host steadily annihilated the dark creatures and gradually gained the upper hand.
That balance shattered when Sauron unleashed his full strength.
A colossal tide of darkness surged forward like a black flood, carrying the weight of his will. Before it, the immense barrier formed by nearly ten thousand wizards seemed fragile, like a dam facing a world-ending deluge. Under the horrified gazes of all present, the shield trembled violently, on the verge of collapse.
Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel were forced to divert most of their power to suppress the Three Rings, which had begun to resonate dangerously with Sauron's magic. Glorfindel's radiance dimmed under the relentless pressure. Sylas's phoenix guardian was swallowed by darkness, and the Protego surrounding him visibly contracted, strained to its limit.
Seeing his army on the brink of annihilation, Sylas finally cast aside all restraint.
With a low, feral growl, his pupils drained of color. His body erupted into a vast storm of black smoke as he transformed fully into his Obscurial form, far greater and more terrifying than when he had first awakened. The mass of darkness plunged downward, tearing free from Sauron's oppressive tide.
The instant it struck the ground, the smoke collapsed inward.
Sylas re-formed, raising his hand.
A ring appeared upon his finger, silver, set with a radiant golden gem. Brilliant light burst forth, condensing into an immense golden barrier that sealed the sky above the battlefield. The onrushing torrent of darkness crashed against it again and again, and failed.