Chapter Fourty-Seven: The Last Stand

The courtyard was a storm of battle—chaos and bloodshed stretched to every corner, the once-proud stronghold now echoing with the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded. Elyra's sword danced in her hand, deflecting blows and striking down foes with the precision born of years of training and countless battles. But this was different. This was the endgame, and she knew it.

The enemy's numbers were overwhelming. Despite their determination, the defenders were being pushed back, inch by hard-fought inch. The iron gate that had slammed shut behind them was now their only barrier between survival and annihilation. Yet, even as the enemy battered at their defenses, Elyra found herself thinking not of death, but of those she fought to protect—her father, King Alden, the people of the kingdom, and her comrades who stood beside her in this desperate hour.

Garret, standing at her left, was a whirlwind of motion, his sword cleaving through the ranks of the enemy with brutal efficiency. Thorne, at her right, fought like a man possessed, his broadsword sweeping aside foes as though they were nothing more than chaff. Every strike from them was met with a counterattack, and the trio held the center of the defense with grim determination.

"We can't keep this up much longer," Garret grunted, his voice strained as he parried a heavy blow from a particularly large enemy warrior.

"We don't have to," Elyra replied, slashing her blade across the chest of an enemy soldier. "We just have to hold until there's nothing left to hold."

Thorne barked a laugh, even as he drove his sword through another foe. "Typical Elyra—always the optimist."

But even as they exchanged grim banter, the reality of their situation was inescapable. The enemy was relentless, and for every one of them that fell, another two seemed to take their place. The defenders were tiring, their movements slowing, their strength ebbing.

Then, as if the heavens themselves were mocking them, a thunderous roar echoed through the courtyard. Elyra's eyes snapped upward, and what she saw nearly took her breath away.

The enemy had brought forth a war beast—a creature of nightmare, towering above the battlefield. It was covered in thick, armored plates that gleamed in the firelight, its eyes glowing with an unnatural crimson light. The beast roared again, a sound that shook the very ground, and charged forward, smashing through the enemy ranks to get to the defenders.

"We're not going to survive that," Thorne muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Then we'll die trying!" Elyra shouted, rallying the soldiers around her. "Form up! We take that beast down, or we don't leave here at all!"

The war beast barreled toward them, its massive bulk crashing through everything in its path. Elyra could see the fear in the eyes of her soldiers, but she could also see the resolve. They had come this far, and they weren't going to let this be their end.

The beast's charge was terrifying in its speed and power. As it neared, Elyra gave the order, and the soldiers parted, allowing the creature to barrel straight into the heart of their formation. Then, as one, they struck.

Spears and swords jabbed at the beast's underbelly, seeking out weak points in its armor. But the creature was like a moving fortress, its hide deflecting most of the attacks with ease. Elyra dodged to the side as a massive claw swiped at her, narrowly avoiding being crushed. She rolled to her feet and lunged at the beast's flank, her sword striking sparks as it glanced off the creature's armor.

Garret and Thorne were on either side of her, their attacks focused on the creature's legs, trying to bring it down. But the beast seemed unstoppable, its every movement scattering soldiers like leaves in the wind. It was a monster, bred for war and destruction, and it had no intention of being stopped.

Elyra knew they couldn't keep this up. The beast was too strong, too powerful. They needed to find a weakness, and fast, or they would all be slaughtered.

"Go for the eyes!" she shouted, hoping to direct the soldiers' attacks. "Blind it! We need to slow it down!"

Several soldiers responded, their arrows and spears flying toward the creature's glowing eyes. But the beast was fast, its head moving too quickly for any of the attacks to land a fatal blow. It roared in fury, its maw opening wide to reveal rows of jagged teeth.

Then, in a moment of clarity, Elyra saw it. The beast's mouth—the soft flesh at the roof of its mouth was exposed when it roared. It was a small target, but it was a vulnerability.

"Garret, Thorne! When it opens its mouth, aim for the roof!" Elyra shouted, positioning herself directly in front of the beast.

"What? Are you mad?" Thorne yelled, but Elyra ignored him.

The beast roared again, and this time Elyra stood her ground, raising her sword high. As the creature lunged, its jaws wide open, Elyra summoned every ounce of her strength and hurled her sword with all her might. The blade flew true, piercing the soft flesh at the roof of the creature's mouth and embedding itself deep within.

The beast let out a blood-curdling scream, its massive body convulsing as it reared back in agony. Garret and Thorne didn't waste a second, following Elyra's lead and driving their swords into the creature's mouth, striking the same vulnerable spot.

With a final, shuddering groan, the war beast collapsed to the ground, its lifeblood pooling beneath it. The enemy soldiers faltered, their morale shaken by the fall of their monstrous champion.

But Elyra knew this was far from over. They had won this battle, but the war still raged around them. The enemy was regrouping, preparing for another assault, and the defenders were running out of strength.

She turned to Garret and Thorne, both of them bloodied and exhausted but still standing. "We need to push them back, now, while they're disorganized."

Garret nodded, wiping sweat and blood from his brow. "Agreed. We strike now, or we'll be overrun."

The remaining soldiers, inspired by the defeat of the war beast, rallied to Elyra's side. They formed up once more, ready to charge.

"For the kingdom!" Elyra shouted, raising her voice above the din of battle. "For King Alden! For our home!"

With a roar, the defenders surged forward, crashing into the enemy with renewed vigor. The fight was brutal, a desperate struggle for survival, but they fought with everything they had, determined to drive the invaders from their land.

As Elyra cut down another enemy soldier, she felt a glimmer of hope. They had survived this long, against all odds. They had fought with courage, with determination, and with the belief that they could protect what they held dear.

And in that moment, she knew—they could win this.

The fortress would not fall.

Not while they still had breath in their bodies.