Dark clouds choked the sky above Septon, thick and unmoving, swallowing the moon and stars. No rain fell, only the weight of terror pressed down on the kingdom. Outside the towering walls, Septon's army stood in grim formation on the frost-hardened plain, shields locked, spears bristling. Benjamin and Michael anchored the front line, the wind crystal pulsing hot at Benjamin's hip. Alfred's absence was a ghost neither mentioned; thoughts of him were buried beneath the coming storm.
Inside the walls, Griffin waited alone in the shadowed courtyard, his greatsword planted point-down in the stone, hands resting on the hilt. If the demons breached, he would be the last line.
On the ramparts, General Norman's voice cracked like a whip. "Lock your aim!"
A thousand bowstrings creaked.
"Loose!"
Arrows hissed skyward, a black rain that hammered the demon tide. Screams rose as shafts punched through hides, but the horde kept marching, too many, too fast.
The giant demon thundered at their center, twenty feet of muscle and molten eyes, shrugging off fireballs and stone shards like gnats. Each footfall shook the earth; each roar rattled steel.
Michael's gauntlet clenched. "They're here. Prepare for impact!"
Sweat beaded beneath helms. A young knight's spear trembled; an older one hissed, "Steady, lad, or die shaking."
Then the darkness split.
Demons poured from the ridge like a black wave, hellhounds, winged fiends, claw and fang and hate. Michael roared, thrusting both palms forward. A wall of white-hot fire erupted, rolling across the plain in a roaring sheet. Benjamin snapped the wind crystal skyward; a howling gale caught the flames, stretching them into a blazing cyclone that devoured the front ranks. Charred corpses tumbled, but the wave kept coming.
Steel met flesh.
The first hound crashed into the shield wall, jaws snapping. Spears thrust, swords flashed. Michael's blade carved a fiend in half; Benjamin's wind blade sliced three more apart. Blood steamed on frozen ground. The giant demon's shadow fell over them, its fist raised to smash the gates.
War had begun.
General Norman's voice cracked across the ramparts like a war drum.
"Aim for the giant demon! Loose!"
A thousand arrows screamed through the smoke, thudding into the titan's chest as it hammered the iron gates. The impacts staggered it, but the gates groaned and buckled. Mages hurled their fury next: fireballs fused with jagged stone, exploding against the beast's hide in molten shards. Black blood hissed on the ground. Still, it did not fall.
"The gate's cracking!" a knight shrieked from the wall, voice breaking.
Michael spun. The first giant demon reared back for another blow.
"Benjamin, hold the line! I've got the brute!"
The earth shuddered again, deeper, closer.
"Watch out—"
Benjamin whirled. A second giant demon loomed behind Michael, hammer of twisted iron raised high. Michael dove; the hammer smashed the ground where he'd stood, sending a shockwave of frost and dirt. He rolled, coughing, as red eyes blazed through the firelight.
Benjamin sprinted, wind crystal blazing. A razor gale tore from his palm, slicing the demon's torso. The cut was deep, but the monster only staggered two steps, snarling.
It locked eyes on Benjamin, forgetting Michael entirely.
Michael was already moving, a blur of steel and flame. He leapt, fist wreathed in white fire, and drove it into the giant's temple. The punch detonated. Bone and flesh burst outward in a roar of heat and light. The headless corpse teetered, smoke pouring from the cauterized stump, then crashed backward, shaking the plain.
Winged fiends shrieked overhead, black silhouettes blotting the smoke-choked sky. They vaulted the walls in a ragged flock, talons gleaming. One beat of leathery wings, then they froze mid-air, suspended like insects in amber. A collective scream tore from their throats, raw, agonized. Veins burst beneath their hides; blood rained down in crimson sheets. Bodies ruptured, limbs folding inward, and they dropped in wet heaps inside the kingdom.
Griffin stood in the courtyard, greatsword planted, chest heaving. His voice boomed, iron-hard.
"Not one demon steps inside Septon. You hear me? Not one!"
On the ramparts, General Norman's scarred face split into a wolfish grin.
"You heard the hero! Kill them all!"
The knights answered with a roar, fury igniting. Outside, they shoved the demon tide back, steel on claw, blood steaming on frost. But the first giant demon still stood at the gates, fists hammering. Iron screamed; hinges splintered.
"The gate's breaking!" a knight atop the wall yelled.
Inside, men sprinted to the gates, shoulders slamming against the buckling doors, boots skidding on stone. Outside, Benjamin and the forward line slashed at the titan's legs, alone now, its lesser kin held at bay. The doors shattered inward. The giant demon grinned, tusks dripping, and shoved. Knights tumbled like dolls.
It stepped across the threshold, roaring victory.
Wind howled.
Benjamin's crystal blazed. Razor gusts carved the air, slicing open gashes across the demon's chest and thighs. Black blood hissed.
"Aim for the wounds, mages!"
Fire and stone answered instantly, lances of flame and jagged rock punched into the gashes, burrowing deep. The giant staggered, knees buckling. It crashed face-first inside the gate, dead.
For a heartbeat the fiends faltered, wings stuttering. Then a fresh screech split the night. A larger fiend swooped low, talons clutching lesser demons like cargo. It crossed the wall and released them, only to freeze mid-drop. Griffin's hand clenched; invisible force crushed the fiend into pulp. The demons it carried splattered across the stones.
Michael wiped blood from his eyes, scanning the battlefield. The plain was a living carpet of claws and teeth. At the ridge's edge, motionless on a skeletal horse, a lone figure watched. Armor of black iron, cloak of shadow. The air around it shimmered with raw, suffocating power.
Michael's voice cut through the din, low and lethal.
"The Apostle."
General Norman's scarred face twisted as he leaned over the blood-slick parapet.
"Sound the horns! Retreat signal, NOW!"
The horn-bearers didn't hesitate. Two long, mournful blasts ripped across the battlefield, one hard on the heels of the other, deep enough to rattle teeth in skulls and drown the wet screams of the dying.
Michael felt the shift before he heard the call. The air compressed, a vice of raw malice squeezing his lungs. The Apostle hadn't moved, yet every demon on the plain lunged forward in perfect, hungry unison, claws shredding frozen earth, wings blotting the smoke. The pressure was the Apostle's doing, a silent command that turned the horde into a single, ravenous beast.
Then the horns hit his ears.
"The gate's been breached. Damn it all."
He didn't waste breath on curses. Michael planted his boots, gauntlets igniting. Heat warped the air around his forearms.
"Knights of Septon! Fall back to the inner walls! MOVE!"
With a savage upward sweep of both arms, he tore the night open. Dozens of fireballs erupted above him, each a miniature sun, crackling with white-blue cores. They hung for a heartbeat, then launched. Streaking comets slammed into the demon vanguard. Explosions chained in a rolling thunder, each blast vaporizing ranks of hellhounds, hurling winged fiends sky-high in burning spirals. The shockwaves bought a ragged corridor of scorched earth.
"Go! Go! Through the breach and hopd the second line!" Michael bellowed, voice hoarse over the roar of flame.
Knights stumbled, slipped in blood and entrails, but they ran, shields clattering, dragging the wounded. The breached gates loomed ahead, splintered iron jaws yawning wide. To fight outside now was suicide; if the outer wall fell completely, Septon would bleed out before dawn.
Michael backpedaled last, fire still licking his fists, eyes scanning the chaos for a flash of auburn hair that never came.
'Alfred, you bastard, where the hell are you?'