Elira's knees buckled, her breath ragged. The forbidden binding had drained her, every heartbeat a clash of fire and shadow. Her crown pulsed violently, its light fractured, her vision swimming.
Kael steadied her, his blade burning with her flame. "Hold, Elira. Just hold."
But Marlic saw her weakness. His ember eyes blazed, his storm swelling higher than ever. "You are tired, Flamebearer. You are breaking. And now, I will end you."
He raised his spear, shadow surging like a tidal wave. The champions of shadow pressed forward, their blades cutting through torchlight. The Ashbound faltered, their torches dimming under the weight of his storm.
Elira gasped, her fire flickering. She tried to raise her hand, but her arm trembled, too heavy. The crown pulsed, whispering despair. You cannot hold both. You will collapse.
Marlic's roar split the battlefield. "This is the end! Flame will fall, shadow will reign!"
The storm crashed down, a desperate surge of grief and fury. Tents collapsed, the ground split, torches extinguished. For a heartbeat, it seemed the Ashbound wall would shatter, Kael's blade would break, and Elira's flame would die.
But even in her exhaustion, Elira clenched her fist. Her voice was weak but steady. "I will not fall. Even tired, even broken—I endure."
The crown pulsed, faint but alive. The Ashbound rallied, torches blazing against the storm. Kael pressed forward, his blade cutting through shadow.
Marlic's desperate move shook the battlefield, but it did not end it. Instead, it revealed the truth—Elira was human, weary, fragile. Yet even in exhaustion, her flame endured.