"So the Grey Elves finally crawled out of their shell," Sauron said, amusement dripping from his voice.
His fingers brushed the dark ring on his right hand as his gaze slid past the elven formation and settled on the lone human among them.
"Human," he continued, smiling thinly. "We meet again far sooner than I expected. This time, you won't be the one watching my back as I retreat."
Two hundred Grey Elves. No famed Noldorin champions. No Finrod.
In front of him stood a force Sauron did not consider worthy of caution.
Behind him hovered his vampire guard, the elite chosen from Werewolf Isle. Each was a veteran of slaughter. And he himself was no longer what he had been in the canyon. With the ring's power coursing through him, his strength had multiplied several times over.
Last time, he had lost because he had been caught off guard, flanked by a human and an elven prince working in perfect coordination. That humiliation burned even now.
This time, there would be no surprises.
Darkness surged outward from Sauron in a crushing wave. The valley shuddered beneath the pressure as shadows pooled and twisted, as though the land itself remembered what it once was before Rowan Mercer had cleansed it.
The Dead Valley began to rot again.
Rowan narrowed his eyes.
"So he powered up," he muttered. "That's… a lot more than last time."
The growth was undeniable. Three or four times stronger, easily. Too fast. Too extreme.
Then Rowan smiled.
"Good thing I grew even faster."
The last battle had been fought before he mastered several key arts. Before he wielded fairy law. Before his understanding of lightning deepened. Before his body and magic truly synchronized.
Now was different.
Against Melian, he would still need raw force. Against Sauron, a creature steeped in corruption and fear of light, the match-up favored him heavily.
And he was not alone.
Galadriel stood ready, her presence sharper than Finrod's had ever been.
Lúthien stood beside her, quiet and radiant, her voice alone capable of toppling kings if she chose to sing.
Behind them were not ordinary Grey Elves, but the finest warriors Thingol could spare. Each had been chosen for talent and resolve.
Sauron thought himself the hunter.
In truth, he had walked into a trap.
"Last time, you escaped," Rowan said calmly, raising his hand and curling two fingers in a clear, deliberate challenge. "Let's not repeat that mistake."
Sauron's expression twisted with fury.
"You wretched human. I will tear that arrogance out of you piece by piece!"
Steel screamed as he drew his dark blade.
Rowan did not wait.
"Light Magic. Fairy Law."
The air split.
A vast sigil ignited above the valley, radiant and merciless. A pillar of light descended, focused entirely on Sauron alone, compressing its judgment into a single, devastating strike.
The vampires were ignored. They were irrelevant.
Sauron roared as he unleashed the ring's full power, darkness wrapping around him like armor. Shadow clashed with light, the collision shaking the valley to its core.
When the brilliance faded, Sauron remained standing, but barely. His breath came ragged. His eyes burned with disbelief.
"It's you," he hissed. "You're the one my master sensed."
His gaze locked onto Rowan, equal parts hatred and fear.
"This is impossible. You're human. You should not wield power like this."
Without the ring, that attack would have shattered him outright. Even now, the cost had been severe.
But Sauron noticed something else.
Rowan's face had gone pale. His presence flickered, weakened.
That was enough.
"Kill him!" Sauron roared. "Now!"
The vampire guard surged forward in a crimson tide.
"Rowan!" Lúthien cried, rushing toward him as she felt his strength dip sharply.
Galadriel was already moving.
Blade drawn, she spurred her great-antlered mount forward, laughter bright and fearless.
"Lúthien!" she called back over her shoulder. "Warm a cup of fruit wine for me. I'll drink it after I take Sauron's head."
Rowan chuckled weakly despite himself.
"I'm fine," he told Lúthien. "Just give me a moment. Go. Galadriel can't face him alone."
Seeing the color return slightly to his face, Lúthien nodded and turned, her expression hardening as she followed Galadriel into the fray.
The valley erupted into war.
...
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