Dawn broke over Eredor with deceptive calm. The city woke to another ordinary day, merchants opening shops, workers heading to the docks, children running through streets still damp with morning dew. None of them knew that in six days, everything might end.
But in the Shadow Hunter warehouse, there was no such illusion of normalcy.
"Defensive positions first," Selene said, her finger tracing lines on the map spread across the war table. "We fortify the warehouse, the eastern and northern safe houses, and the old merchant hall. Four strongpoints that can support each other, with underground tunnels connecting them in case surface routes are compromised."
"That's a lot of territory to defend with our numbers," Ronan pointed out. He looked as tired as everyone else—none of them had slept well after Marcus's message.
"Which is why we're calling in every favor the network has," Selene replied. "I've sent messages to Shadow Hunter cells in three kingdoms. Anyone who can reach Eredor in six days is coming."
"How many?" Kaelen asked.
"Twenty, maybe thirty additional Hunters. Plus whatever local allies we can recruit—guild mages, mercenary companies who owe us favors, even a few former Cult members who defected." Selene's silver eyes were calculating. "Not enough to match Marcus's forces, but enough to make him pay for every inch of ground."
"What about civilians?" Lia interjected. "We can't have a war in the middle of Eredor. Thousands could die in the crossfire."
"Evacuation is already beginning," Selene said. "Under the guise of a plague warning. The city guard is cooperating—they may not believe in shadow magic and Forbidden Blades, but they believe in the Shadow Hunter network's intelligence. Key districts will be cleared by day three."
Kaelen studied the map, running scenarios in his head. Four strongpoints, limited forces, an enemy with two Forbidden Blades and unknown capabilities. The math didn't work in their favor.
"We need more than defensive positions," he said. "We need force multipliers. Traps, prepared ambush points, pre-positioned supplies. Anything that gives us an advantage despite inferior numbers."
"Agreed," Selene said. "Which is why you and Lia are going to spend today inscribing every defensive ward you can manage. Ronan will coordinate the physical fortifications. And I..." She pulled out a sealed letter. "I'm going to do something I swore I'd never do. Ask Valorian for help."
Silence fell around the table.
"They'll never send aid," one of the Shadow Hunters said. "Not for a fight involving Forbidden Blades. That's everything they stand against."
"Officially, no," Selene agreed. "But I have contacts in the palace. If I can convince them that Marcus represents a threat to their kingdom too, they might provide resources. Intel. Maybe even military support, if we're lucky."
"That's optimistic," Ronan said.
"I'm not feeling particularly pessimistic at the moment," Selene replied dryly. "We're outmanned, outgunned, and running out of time. Optimism is all we have."
The meeting broke up, everyone moving to their assigned tasks. Kaelen and Lia headed for the warehouse's defensive perimeter, where they would spend the next twelve hours inscribing runes that might mean the difference between victory and annihilation.
"Defensive ward, Mark Seven," Lia said, her hands already glowing as she traced patterns in the air. "This one absorbs shadow magic and converts it to kinetic force. If a cultist throws a spell at the wall, the wall throws it back."
"Creative," Kaelen observed, watching her work. "Your master teach you this?"
"This one I developed myself. Based on her theories, but adapted for shadow energy specifically." Lia completed the rune and moved to the next position. "Master Elena believed that defense wasn't about blocking attacks—it was about making attacks costly. Every spell the enemy throws should hurt them as much as us."
They worked in synchronized silence, Lia inscribing runes while Kaelen used Soulrender to anchor them with shadow energy. The resonance technique they'd perfected made this possible—hybrid magic that was stable, permanent, and significantly more powerful than either of them could manage alone.
By midday, they'd covered the warehouse's entire eastern wall with overlapping defensive arrays. Any attack from that direction would face seven layers of wards, each one feeding into the next, creating a cascading defense that would take sustained bombardment to break through.
"How many Shadow Scars?" Lia asked during a break, studying Kaelen with her diagnostic runes.
"Still twenty-nine," he confirmed. "The resonance work doesn't add to the count. Just normal exhaustion."
"Good." But Lia's expression was troubled. "Though I'm now at five echo-scars. They're getting stronger."
Kaelen examined her arm where she indicated. The shadow marks were faint but unmistakable—dark lines that mimicked his own corruption patterns. "Maybe we should stop using the resonance. Find another way."
"There is no other way," Lia said firmly. "The hybrid technique is our best weapon. I knew the risks when I started. I'm not backing out now."
"Lia—"
"Kaelen." She took his hands. "In six days, we face Marcus with two Forbidden Blades. If I have to accumulate a few echo-scars to give us a fighting chance, that's not even a question. I'd do it regardless."
He wanted to argue, but he recognized that stubborn set to her jaw. She'd made her choice, and nothing he said would change it.
"Then we monitor it carefully," he said instead. "Any sign the echoes are becoming real corruption, we stop immediately."
"Deal."
They returned to work, moving to the northern perimeter. As the afternoon wore on, more Shadow Hunters arrived—reinforcements from nearby cities, answering Selene's call. Each one brought news: Marcus's ship had been spotted rounding the Shattered Cape. He was making good time, would definitely arrive within the week.
The countdown was real. The threat was coming.
By evening, exhaustion forced Kaelen and Lia to stop. They'd inscribed wards around three of the four strongpoints—impressive progress, but not enough. Never enough.
"Tomorrow we finish the merchant hall," Lia said, rolling her shoulders to work out the stiffness. "Then we start on the secondary positions."
"How many total wards can we inscribe before Marcus arrives?" Kaelen asked.
"At this pace? Maybe two hundred. Enough to make any attack costly, but not enough to stop a determined assault." Lia looked at the defensive arrays they'd created, glowing softly in the dusk. "It'll have to be enough."
Dinner was a subdued affair—thirty Shadow Hunters and growing, eating in shifts, discussing strategies and contingencies. Kaelen sat with Ronan, who was reviewing engineering schematics for the underground tunnels.
"The network's older than most people realize," Ronan explained, pointing at the drawings. "Some of these passages date back to Eredor's founding. The city's built on smuggler routes and secret ways. Marcus might have numbers, but we have home-ground advantage."
"Will that be enough?" Kaelen asked.
"Against two Forbidden Blades? Probably not." Ronan set down the schematics. "But it improves our odds. And in a fight like this, we'll take whatever improvements we can get."
"Has Selene heard back from Valorian?"
"Not yet. But she's not optimistic. The kingdom's official position is that Forbidden Blades should be destroyed, not defended. Asking them to help protect Soulrender is asking them to violate centuries of doctrine."
"Even if Marcus winning means he gets closer to freeing the Shadow Lord?"
"Even then. Valorian doesn't think ten steps ahead. They think two: destroy Forbidden Blades, maintain their idea of magical purity. Nuance isn't their strong suit."
That evening, Kaelen found himself unable to sleep again. He made his way to the training room, intending to run through sword forms, and found it already occupied.
Selene was there, moving through a combat sequence with deadly grace. No weapon, just her body moving through strikes and blocks and counters with perfect precision. She noticed Kaelen but didn't stop, completing the sequence before acknowledging him.
"Couldn't sleep?" she asked.
"Not with a countdown to apocalypse hanging over me," Kaelen replied. "You?"
"Sleep is inefficient when there's work to be done." Selene grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from her face. "But my body disagrees, so I compromise with exercise."
"Heard anything from Valorian?"
"Officially? No. Unofficially?" Selene's expression shifted to something that might have been satisfaction. "Princess Isabella sent a private message. She can't commit military support, but she's arranged for a 'training accident' that will result in a shipment of weapons and supplies being 'misplaced' near our border. They'll arrive in four days."
"That's something," Kaelen said, surprised.
"It's more than something. It's significant." Selene sat on a bench, studying him. "The princess is risking her position to help us. That suggests she understands what's at stake better than her father does."
"Will it be enough?"
"Nothing is enough, Kaelen. We're facing impossible odds with limited resources and a ticking clock. But we're also not rolling over and surrendering." She stood. "Tomorrow brings day two of preparation. We keep working, keep planning, keep hoping that clever tactics can overcome superior power. Because the alternative is unacceptable."
"The alternative is watching everyone die," Kaelen said quietly.
"Exactly. So we don't allow it." Selene moved toward the door, then paused. "You're doing well. Leading by example, supporting Lia, keeping morale up despite your own fears. That matters."
"I don't feel like I'm doing well. I feel like I'm drowning and pretending I know how to swim."
"That's leadership," Selene said. "The drowning feeling never goes away. You just get better at hiding it." She left, her footsteps fading up the stairs.
Kaelen ran through his own training sequence, using a practice blade instead of Soulrender. Basic forms, simple movements, the foundation that all combat was built on. It was meditative, calming, a way to quiet the anxious thoughts circling his mind.
*Six days,* he thought. *Six days to prepare for the fight of our lives.*
He thought about Marcus, sailing toward them with two Forbidden Blades. Thought about the Shadow Lord, waiting in his prison. Thought about Lia, burning herself out to give them an advantage.
*We need a miracle,* Kaelen realized. *Multiple miracles, actually.*
*Miracles are made, not given,* Soulrender said quietly. *You have built something here—alliance, technique, purpose. That is the beginning of miracle. The rest is determination and sacrifice.*
"How much sacrifice?" Kaelen asked.
*Unknown. But likely more than you wish to pay. That is always the price of victory.*
Kaelen finished his forms and made his way back to his quarters. Tomorrow would bring more preparation, more planning, more desperate attempts to tilt impossible odds in their favor.
But tonight, he allowed himself a few hours of rest.
Because in six days, everything would change.
And he needed to be ready.
Ready to fight. Ready to sacrifice.
Ready to do whatever it took to protect the people he'd come to care about.
The countdown had begun.
Day one was complete.
Five days remained.
And the storm was coming.