The conflict that nearly claimed Leo's life had grown into a conflagration that consumed half the continent. What began as isolated border skirmishes seven years ago had evolved into full-scale war on two fronts.
Emperor Usman VI stood before the war table in Merham's central palace, his once-proud shoulders now permanently stooped. Maps covered with red markers showed the advancing forces of the Blizard Empire from the north and the Biza Empire from the west.
"We've lost Velkin Province entirely," General Rask reported, moving wooden markers across the map. "Blizard forces have pushed twenty miles past the Frostrime River. They'll reach Northwatch within a fortnight if the weather holds."
The Emperor's weathered face remained impassive, but the tremor in his hand betrayed his distress. "And the western front?"
"Worse, Your Majesty. Biza's desert cavalry has proven... difficult to counter. They've taken three major trade routes and cut off supply lines to our southwestern garrisons."
Chancellor Dorin cleared his throat. "The treasury cannot sustain this war much longer, sire. The merchant guilds grow restless, and food shortages in the capital have already sparked two riots this month."
"And the Emerald Empire?" the Emperor asked. "Any word from our eastern neighbours?"
"They maintain their neutrality," Foreign Minister Elara replied, her voice tight with barely concealed frustration. "They continue to trade with all parties while offering sympathetic platitudes."
"Vultures," someone muttered.
Outside the palace walls, Merham had transformed from a vibrant capital into a city under siege in all but name. Refugee camps sprawled across once-beautiful parks. Recruitment centers operated day and night, processing ever-younger conscripts to replace the fallen. The smell of fear hung in the air alongside the acrid smoke from forges working around the clock.
In the market square, a herald read the latest proclamation: more rations cut, more men called to service, more sacrifices demanded in the name of the empire.
"My son left for the northern front last spring," an old woman told no one in particular as she clutched her meager bread ration. "No word since winter."
The war's toll mounted with each passing season. Where once proud villages had dotted the countryside, only charred timbers and abandoned wells remained. Fields that had yielded wheat and barley for generations lay fallow or trampled beneath marching boots. The grand trade roads that had been the Usman Empire's lifeblood now served as highways for invading armies.
In what remained of the border town of Kelthaven, Mayor Tully maintained a ledger of the dead. The book had grown so thick he'd been forced to commission a second volume.
"Three more families fled east last night," his assistant reported. "That makes seventeen this week."
Tully nodded grimly. "Can't blame them. The Emerald Empire at least offers shelter, even if they treat refugees like beggars."
Maps in chancelleries across the continent were redrawn monthly. Imperial cartographers worked with grim efficiency, shading territories lost to Blizard blue or Biza red. The Usman Empire's traditional green boundaries shrank with each revision, its once-formidable expanse contracting like a wound.
In the mountain fortress of Kharag Dzul, the Blizard Emperor surveyed his newest acquisitions with cold satisfaction. "The northern provinces have excellent timber resources," his resource minister noted. "Once we clear the remaining resistance, we can begin harvesting immediately."
Similarly, in the golden palace of Suntower, Biza's Sultan reclined among silk cushions as his generals presented the jewels of their conquest: the fertile western valleys of what had been Usman territory for centuries.
"The irrigation systems are intact," the agricultural vizier reported. "We can convert these lands to produce dates and figs within two growing seasons."
What had been unthinkable a decade ago now seemed inevitable to many: the complete dissolution of the Usman Empire, a power that had stood for four centuries. Diplomats in neutral nations spoke openly of "The former Usman territories" in their correspondence, a linguistic surrender preceding the military one.
The empire was being carved up like a festival roast, each invader claiming the choicest portions while the heart of the nation struggled to keep beating.
Leo descended from the craggy heights of Valen Ridge, his earth boots crunching on loose shale as he navigated the treacherous path. Seven days in the mountains had left him filthy and exhausted, but the earth beneath his feet whispered comfort to him in ways only an earth mage could understand.
The clash of steel reached his ears before he spotted the battle. He crouched behind an outcropping and surveyed the scene below. Blizard troops in their distinctive ice-blue tabards clashed with Usman soldiers in forest green. Blood stained the rocky ground as both sides fought with desperate intensity.
"Charge!" a Blizard knight bellowed, his massive broadsword cleaving through a Usman soldier's shoulder.
The forces seemed evenly matched – perhaps forty fighters on each side – but the Blizard knights commanded the center of the field with brutal efficiency. Their apprentices flanked them, moving with the enhanced speed and strength their life energy afforded them.
Leo hesitated. This wasn't his fight. He could skirt the battlefield, continue toward Merham unnoticed.
A Blizard scout spotted him. "There! On the ridge!"
Three apprentice knights broke formation and charged uphill toward him. Something in their cold, determined faces triggered a flood of memories – the ambush that had nearly claimed his life, the desperation as he'd fought for survival.
"Earth wall!" Leo slammed his palm against the ground. Stone erupted from the soil, blocking the first attacker's thrust.
"It's a mage!" one shouted. "Take him down!"
Leo's fingers curled into claws. "Earth shackles."
The ground beneath the charging knights liquefied, then hardened around their ankles and calves. Their momentum carried their upper bodies forward while their legs remained trapped, sending them crashing face-first into the dirt.
More Blizard troops turned toward him. The battlefield's attention shifted.
Leo's vision narrowed. His connection to the earth thrummed through his body like a second heartbeat. These were the same forces that had been systematically destroying his homeland for years.
"Earth crusher."
The trapped knights screamed as the hardened earth constricted around their limbs. Bones snapped with sickening cracks. Blood seeped between the cracks in the soil.
Leo didn't stop. His hands danced through complex patterns as more Blizard troops charged toward him. The ground beneath the entire Blizard contingent writhed like a living thing, swallowing knights to their waists before hardening again.
"Earth crusher," he repeated, his voice eerily calm.
The battlefield fell silent except for the horrific sounds of dozens of bodies being simultaneously pulverized within their earthen coffins.