Chapter Fifty-Two– The Siege of Vareth
Dawn broke over Vareth in silence, a ghostly golden hue casting long shadows across the crumbling battlements. The last stronghold city before David's Fortress stood ready to bleed.
The sounds of war drums echoed from the east. The Sultan's army, nearly ten thousand strong, marched beneath banners of gold and crimson, steel flashing with the rising sun. Their polished formations advanced in waves, led by five of the Sultan's most brutal generals. The Sultan himself remained in his camp, guarded by a mere thousand—so confident was he in his army's overwhelming force.
Inside Vareth's walls, Kael, Lira, and GreenWolf stood at the head of five thousand defenders—volunteers, civilians, and scattered soldiers from shattered regiments. They weren't prepared for a siege of this size. But they didn't have a choice.
The horn blew.
Steel met steel.
The Siege of Vareth began.
The Frontline
Kael led the charge at the main gate, where the enemy came like waves, crashing against the stone and fire of Vareth's last warriors. His blade shimmered in the morning light, a trail of destruction behind him as he cut down the first wave. Beside him, Lira's magic burst in golden arcs, shields and light spears raining upon the invaders. GreenWolf danced among enemies like a phantom, blades finding throats before voices could scream.
Kael's body moved with fury, but his mind burned with deeper fire. Rage. Grief. Failure.
They would not lose this city.
Not this one.
In the chaos, two of the Sultan's generals charged forward—General Rada, a towering behemoth with a war axe the size of a tree trunk, and General Hasim, a dual-blade swordsman famous for cutting down a hundred men in a single battle.
They met Kael like wolves pouncing on a lone hunter.
He didn't flinch.
He welcomed them.
Their battle was swift, brutal, and painted in red. Kael moved with precision, barely dodging Hasim's razor strikes and countering Rada's hammering swings with footwork honed in war. Then came the moment—when both generals lunged simultaneously, Kael leapt between them, blade spinning in an arc of light.
One stroke. Two corpses.
But the ground trembled.
The final general approached.
General Barak al-Faar, the Sultan's most powerful champion, stepped into the battlefield. His black armor gleamed like obsidian, his curved greatsword radiating with foreign enchantments.
Kael met his gaze—and charged.
Their blades clashed like thunder, shockwaves pulsing through the broken street. Barak was a monster. His strength, unlike anything Kael had faced, sent him flying against a stone wall after the third exchange.
Blood poured from Kael's chest. Barak advanced without mercy.
Then…
Something awoke.
Deep inside Kael's shattered ribcage, beneath the layers of pain and anger, something ancient stirred—a light not born from the sun, but from creation itself.
Pure Power. Light incarnate.
It exploded from Kael's body in a burst of white energy, blinding the battlefield.
Barak froze. A moment too late.
Kael's sword now shone like a star. He didn't think—he moved. In three strokes, he tore through Barak's defense, shattering the general's enchanted sword and slicing his shoulder open, forcing him to retreat.
But it came at a price.
His veins burned like fire. His vision blurred. His legs collapsed.
"Kael!" Lira screamed.
She rushed to him, dropping her staff and pouring healing magic into his ruined body. "You weren't ready for this! That power—it's not normal. It's not supposed to exist!"
Kael smiled weakly. "We won, didn't we?"
Lira's eyes blurred with tears. "No. We only survived."
Retreat and Capture
With Barak retreating, and three generals slain or wounded, the Sultan's army faltered. GreenWolf, sensing the tide had turned but not in their favor, gave the order.
"Fall back! Protect Kael! Get to the fortress!"
But the enemy regrouped faster than expected. While the front was weakened, a second wave flanked them from the north. In the confusion, GreenWolf turned back to defend Kael's unconscious body as Cristi and Mario carried him.
It was a fatal decision.
Arrows rained down. Net-traps fell. And in the smoke and screams, GreenWolf was taken—dragged away by the Sultan's men as the others escaped.
Hours Later – Safe House near the Forest Line
Kael lay unconscious on a healer's table, pale and broken. Lira worked with the other mages, stabilizing him. Cristi sat nearby, sword in hand, blaming himself for not protecting GreenWolf.
Natalia stood outside, staring toward the east… toward Vareth. A smoldering silhouette now, rising in flames.
Their last city had fallen.
David was gone. Alex… turned. GreenWolf captured.
And Kael, the last beacon of hope, was dying.
But they would survive.
And tomorrow… they would rise again.