Blood on the horizon

The first light of dawn pierced through the canopy, casting a pale glow over the camp. Jasmine stood on the ridge overlooking the valley where the king's army was assembling. Their ranks seemed endless, a sea of soldiers clad in dark armor, moving with the precision and discipline of a well-trained machine. From her vantage point, the sight sent a shiver down her spine, but her face remained resolute. There was no room for fear now. This was the moment they had been waiting for—the final stand.

Blood would be spilled today.

Behind her, the rebellion forces moved into position. It wasn't the army Jasmine had once dreamed of. There were no legions of soldiers to match the king's forces, no well-supplied units of archers or cavalry. Instead, she had a ragtag group of survivors, fighters, farmers, and anyone brave—or desperate—enough to take a stand. But they were hers, and today, they would make the king bleed.

"Are you ready?" Marcus's voice cut through her thoughts as he approached her side. His face was grim, the usual spark of mischief in his eyes replaced by the cold focus of a warrior prepared for battle.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Jasmine replied, her voice steady, though her heart raced. She could feel the tension in the air, like the calm before a storm. "This is it."

Marcus nodded, his gaze fixed on the approaching army. "We've set the traps along the northern pass. The scouts confirmed their cavalry will be forced through it if we hold the main valley. Our archers are in place along the ridge. We hit them fast, force them to retreat into the pass, and let the terrain do the rest."

It was a solid plan, but it hinged on perfect execution. Any misstep, any hesitation, and the king's forces would crush them before they could regroup.

"Good," Jasmine said, gripping the hilt of her dagger. "We fight hard, and we fight smart. We don't give them the chance to regroup."

Marcus glanced at her, his brow furrowing. "And Helena?"

Jasmine's jaw tightened. The betrayal still stung, a fresh wound that hadn't had time to heal. Helena had been silent since their confrontation, keeping to the shadows as they prepared for the battle. Jasmine hadn't had the strength—or the heart—to banish her completely. Not yet. They needed every fighter, every ounce of strength they could muster.

"She'll fight," Jasmine said quietly. "But I won't forget what she did."

Marcus nodded, understanding the weight of the decision. There was no more time to dwell on it. The army below was moving, the clang of steel and the creak of leather filling the air as the king's soldiers prepared for their assault.

Jasmine raised her hand, signaling to the archers along the ridge. They knocked their arrows, drawing back their bows in unison. Every movement was practiced, efficiently. The time for doubt had passed.

"Hold," Jasmine whispered, her heart pounding as the king's army came into range. She could see their commanders now, shouting orders, preparing for the initial charge.

The air was thick with tension, every breath drawn in anticipation. And then, with a sharp cry, the king's army surged forward.

"Now!" Jasmine shouted.

The first volley of arrows whistled through the air, dark shapes streaking toward the enemy like falling stars. They struck with deadly precision, dropping soldiers in their tracks, breaking the front lines before the real battle had even begun.

Chaos erupted in the valley below. The king's forces scrambled to respond, but Jasmine didn't give them the chance. She raised her sword, the signal for the rebels to charge. Her heart pounded in her chest as her fighters surged down the hillside, a ragtag force of fury and desperation.

She raced alongside them, her dagger gleaming in the morning light. She met the enemy head-on, her blade slicing through the armor of the first soldier she encountered. Blood splattered across her face, but she didn't flinch. There was no time to think, only to fight.

The clash of steel on steel filled the air, the sounds of war swallowing everything else. Jasmine moved with purpose, every strike calculated, every dodge instinctive. The king's soldiers were strong, but the rebels fought with a fire born of survival, of the need to protect what little they had left.

Marcus fought beside her, his sword cutting through the enemy with brutal efficiency. He was a whirlwind of destruction, his movements fluid and deadly. But even with their combined efforts, the tide of battle was turning.

The king's forces were too many.

"They're pushing us back!" one of the rebels shouted as they struggled to hold the line.

Jasmine's eyes darted toward the northern pass. They needed to draw the king's cavalry into the trap. If they could lure them into the narrow terrain, they'd have a chance. But the battle in the valley was slipping from their control.

"We have to hold!" Jasmine yelled, her voice barely audible over the din of the battle. "Don't give them an inch!"

But even as she spoke, she could see the cracks forming in their defense. The king's soldiers pressed forward, their sheer numbers overwhelming the rebels' makeshift lines. For every soldier they felled, two more took their place.

Jasmine's heart pounded. She swung her dagger, felling another soldier, but her arm ached with the strain. They couldn't keep this up.

Then, in the distance, she saw it. The king's cavalry. The riders surged forward, their armored horses kicking up dust as they charged toward the valley.

This was the moment. If they could lure the cavalry into the pass, they could still turn the tide.

"Fall back!" Jasmine screamed, signaling her fighters to retreat toward the pass. "Draw them in!"

Her voice cut through the chaos, and slowly, the rebels began to move. It was a calculated withdrawal, every step backward measured as they baited the cavalry into following them.

Jasmine's heart raced as she led the retreat, her eyes darting between her fighters and the approaching cavalry. This was it. Everything depended on this moment.

As they reached the narrow mouth of the pass, Jasmine saw Marcus give the signal to spring the trap. The archers in the trees lose their arrows, targeting the cavalry as they funnel into the narrow terrain. The first horses fell, throwing their riders to the ground in a tangle of steel and flesh.

But it wasn't enough.

The king's cavalry, undeterred, pushed through the pass, their numbers too great to be stopped by a single volley.

Jasmine's heart sank as she realized the truth. The trap had failed. The king's forces were too strong, too determined.

Blood soaked the ground, and as the sun rose higher, casting its light over the battlefield, Jasmine knew one thing for certain.

The cost of freedom would be paid in blood. And the horizon was already painted red.