Crushing Defeat

As the courtyard swelled with enemy troops, thousands more bottlenecked at the open gate, still pressing inward. Then, in a flash of steel, a soldier crouched atop the battlements stood tall. His blade gleamed in the morning light as it sliced clean through the pulley rope.

Clang!

The portcullis crashed down with a thunderous roar, sealing the gate shut. Steel slammed into stone, shaking the very ground.

"What's going on?!"

"It's an ambush!"

Panic rippled through the ranks like fire through dry wheat. The roars of confusion grew louder—until they were dwarfed by a heavier silence.

Up on the walls, figures began to rise.

First one. Then another. Then dozens more, stepping into view along the ramparts like awakened titans. At their center stood Asher—broad-shouldered, cloaked in battle sweat, his hair tousled and eyes burning like twin stars beneath storm clouds.

He inhaled deeply.