The second horn called, and the air filled with another storm of arrows. But the enemy pressed forward, an unending wave of flesh and steel.
The first batch of soldiers charged. The earth trembled under the clash. Spears met shields, swords split through armor, and cries of pain tore through the smoke. Men fell and others climbed over their bodies, fighting like beasts.
A cowardly Prince Shinra and his brothers led the cavalry, their horses cutting through the enemy's front ranks. Mud splashed their armor s they struck down one foe after another. Ryoka's sword cleaved through a soldier's helm, blood streaking her blade.
"Hold the line!" the commander shouted from the rear. But the line was already breaking. The enemy's sheer mass pushed them back step by step.
King Wsalf raised his banner and rode forward. His guards tried to follow, but he was already ahead, charging into the fray. Around him, chaos reigned, horses screamed, men burned, the sky was black with smoke.
The enemy's second division emerged through the haze, more soldiers than any man could count. Their war drums pounded like thunder. Still, the king fought, cutting through ranks of armored men, his red blade flashing in the dim light.
Across the field, the first son of the Qua Zi Empire rode a black steed, his armor glinting like fire. He lifted his spear and pointed it toward the king. Their eyes met for a moment through the storm—two rulers born for this single instant.
"Forward!" Wsalf roared, and his horse leapt over a fallen cart, crushing an enemy beneath its hooves. His knights surged behind him, screaming his name as they charged into the heart of the enemy army.
The clash was brutal. Arrows hissed past, shields shattered, and bodies fell like rain. The commander swung his sword again and again until his arm bled from the strain. He cut through a dozen men before a spear grazed his shoulder.
Still, he didn't stop. He pressed on, his banner blazing behind him.
The princes fought not far away. Ryoka's horse was brought down by a volley of arrows, and she rolled to his feet, slashing at the soldiers closing in. She looked across the chaos and saw her father still fighting, surrounded, glowing with defiance even as the horde swallowed him.
King Wsalf's horse stumbled under him, arrows piercing its neck. He hit the ground hard, yet he rose again, gripping his sword. The enemy closed in from all sides.
He swung once more, the blade cutting through another soldier before snapping in half.
The son of the Qua Zi Empire approached, his spear dripping blood.
King Wsalf stood tall, breath ragged, eyes still blazing. He raised what was left of his sword and charged—one final time.
The enemy surrounded him. Steel flashed. The king fell, his banner crumpling beside him. The great scene ends with imperial prince the smiling down at King Wsalf.
***
The ground shook suddenly.
I froze where I stood, the walls trembling around me. A deep, thunderous boom echoed from the courtyard, followed by screams that tore through the air. The lamps flickered and one fell from its hook, shattering beside Rhye's feet.
My heart pounded.
We ran through the corridor to the tower, our bare feet slapping against the marble floor. Smoke was already seeping through the arches, curling like dark fingers along the ceiling. From the far end of the hall, the glow of fire pulsed like a heartbeat—bright, wild, and wrong.
When we reached the tower, we stopped.
The great castle doors were gone, it was blown apart into ruin. Broken stone and twisted iron littered the floor, mingled with the fallen bodies of guards and people begging to enter. Through the smoke, the enemy poured in, blades flashing.
I pressed myself behind a pillar. The air reeked of blood and burning oil. Every scream made me flinch.
Then I saw them.
Queen Rashmea stood in the center of the courtyard, her gown torn with her own hands. Around her gathered some of the other queens and princesses, mothers, daughters, sisters, sons—all trembling yet strangely still. They had made a pool of fire with oil and fabric.
Rashmea's voice rose above the chaos, soft but unshaken. "They will not take us, we rather die than be slaves."
Her eyes moved over the others. Women who had once sat on silk cushions and laughed in sunlit halls. Now their faces were streaked with soot, their jewels dull in the red light. One queen clutched her newborn to her chest, whispering a prayer that broke halfway through. Another young princess sobbed, clutching her mother's gown. I saw Queen Kabini amidst them along with Queen Mila.
Rashmea stepped closer to the flames. The heat rippled across her skin, but she did not turn away. "Better the fire," she said, "than their hands."
The women began to follow. Some kissed their children one last time before walking forward. Some held hands, whispering to each other as they stepped into the blaze. The smell of burning silk and hair filled the air.
I couldn't move. My legs felt like stone. Tears ran down my face without knowing. I wanted to scream for them to stop, to run, to hide but there was nowhere left to go. At the top of the staircase stood a man in dark armor, watching the Queens and children throw themselves into the fire. He didn't move. He didn't raise his sword. He simply stood there, his face calm, as if he had already seen enough death.
Rhye screamed. "Nooo!"
Her cry drew the attention of an enemy nearby. His head turned slowly toward us, eyes glinting beneath his helmet.
I grabbed her hand. "Run."
We stumbled down the corridor. But Rhye stopped, chest heaving. Behind them, the fire spread, devouring the courtyard, consuming the screams.
Around them, soldiers ransacked the rooms, dragging out possessions, silks, gold—anything that glittered. Those who resisted were cut down without a word. The castle that once echoed with laughter was now nothing but smoke and silence.
And far beyond the hills, Prince Denba and his riders galloped through the night unaware that by the time they reached home, there would be no home left to save.
The smoke was thicker now, clawing at my throat as Rhye and I slipped through the shattered halls. Every step echoed too loudly, every breath felt stolen. We ducked behind a fallen pillar when voices drifted from ahead.
A group of enemy soldiers stood in the half-burned corridor, blades gleaming red in the firelight. One of them kicked open a chest, pulling out a necklace that sparkled even through the dust.
"This alone could buy me a small farm land," he laughed. "A fine reward for a fine war."
Another man tore a strip of embroidered silk from a fallen queen's gown and wrapped it around his arm. "I'll take this for my wife," he said. "She always wanted royal fabric."
The third one bent to scoop up golden bangles and rings, his grin wide and cruel. "And these—these will make my children the richest in the village."
They laughed together, their voices echoing off the broken walls, uncaring of the bodies at their feet.
Rhye's hand tightened around mine. We pressed ourselves deeper behind the rubble, trying not to breathe. But then, somewhere above us, a loose shard of glass slipped from the cracked window and shattered on the floor.
The men turned instantly.
Before we could move, rough hands yanked Rhye from beside me. She gasped, struggling. I froze as the soldier dragged her into the light.
"Another one?" he sneered. "Look what we found."
Rhye looked at me, eyes wide and wet, shaking her head. A small, desperate nod that said don't move.
My body screamed to run to her, to fight, to do something. But my legs wouldn't listen.
They raised their blade. Rhye didn't beg. She didn't even cry. She just stared at me with that same quiet defiance she'd always had. Rhye kicked the soldier at his groin and ran as fast as she could, disappearing into the darkness with her voice echoing "run!".
I didn't realize there was one behind me. "Another one! She's there!"
I ran. My breath tore out of me in broken gasps. My vision blurred. The hall spun, the air too hot, too heavy. I tripped on something and fell hard, my hands scraping the stone. When I looked down, I froze.
It was them.
Two small figures, their hands still clasped together tightly. Princess Momo and Miki. Their faces were pale, almost peaceful, their eyes were wide open as if the light in them disappeared.
I covered my mouth with my hand to stop the sound that tried to break out. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I crawled back, shaking.
"Please," I whispered, not even knowing to whom.
The shouts behind me grew louder. I stumbled to my feet and ran again, sobbing.
And somewhere behind me, the laughter of the soldiers echoed.