Chapter Eighteen: The Fall of Light

The storm had arrived.

Thunder rolled across the sky, shaking the very ground beneath them as rain poured in sheets, turning the battlefield into a treacherous mire of mud and blood. The flickering torches of the enemy cast eerie shadows against the fortress walls, their steel glinting like the teeth of a beast ready to devour them whole.

Seraphina stood at the heart of it all, her cloak soaked and heavy but her resolve unshaken. The fortress gates had been opened not as an act of surrender but as an invitation. She had given them a chance to flee, to rethink their pursuit, and yet they still marched forward.

Fools.

From her vantage point, she saw General Varian at the front of his army, his cold, unyielding expression betraying nothing. His black armour absorbed the torchlight, a living shadow among men. He raised his sword high, the rain making it gleam like molten silver, and in one swift motion, he brought it down.

The battle began.

The enemy forces surged forward like a flood, their shields locked, their steps synchronized with deadly precision. The rebels met them at the gates, a cacophony of steel against steel erupting as both sides clashed. The air filled with the scent of iron and the anguished cries of the wounded.

Seraphina moved like a spectre through the chaos, her blade cutting through the rain as she struck down those who dared stand in her path. The darkness inside her stirred, whispering, Take more. Become more. But she fought against it, refusing to lose herself just yet.

To her right, Caius parried an enemy's strike before driving his dagger into their throat, his golden eyes sharp and focused. He fought with precision, but there was something else in his stance—something wary. He had noticed it too.

The way the shadows moved unnaturally around her. The way the storm itself seemed to answer her call. And then— A blast of energy rippled through the battlefield.

Seraphina turned just in time to see one of the fortress towers shatter into a thousand pieces, debris raining down upon both armies. Her heart lurched. That was no ordinary siege weapon. That was magic.

Varian lowered his outstretched hand, the residual glow of dark energy dissipating from his fingertips. Seraphina's breath caught. He had power. Realization slammed into her like a tidal wave. The king's greatest general wasn't just a warrior. He was a mage.

A predator's smile curved Varian's lips as his piercing gaze met hers across the battlefield. He had been hunting her, but now—now he had found something even more valuable.

Her.

Lightning cracked across the sky as the storm roared louder, echoing the war raging below. The fortress was crumbling, their forces thinning, and now magic was at play. Seraphina had only just begun to understand her own power.

Would she survive long enough to wield it? The battle was far from over.

Seraphina's breath came in sharp gasps, her chest heaving as she processed what she had just seen. Magic. True, unrestrained power. Not just the flickering shadows that responded to her will, but something raw, something dangerous.

Varian was no ordinary soldier. He was a mage—one trained, one refined, and one utterly lethal. A shudder rippled through her, but she couldn't afford hesitation. The battle had already turned. The rebels fought valiantly, but they were outmatched, their formations breaking apart as the king's forces pushed forward with merciless efficiency. The fortress walls trembled under the assault, pieces of stone crumbling as more magical blasts crashed into them.

Seraphina ducked just in time as another explosion sent a wave of rubble flying past her. The air smelled of burnt wood, wet stone, and the unmistakable metallic tang of blood. A fallen soldier, barely breathing, reached out toward her, his fingers trembling.

"Run," he rasped. "You have to—"

An arrow lodged itself in his throat before he could finish.

Seraphina barely had time to react before another attacker lunged at her, sword aimed at her heart. Instinct took over. She sidestepped at the last second, twisting her blade and driving it through the soldier's ribs. He choked, eyes wide with shock, before collapsing at her feet.

The darkness inside her stirred again, curling around the edges of her vision like smoke. It whispered, urging her to reach out, to take more, to unleash something deeper.

No.

Not yet.

"Seraphina!" Caius's voice cut through the chaos. She turned just as he appeared, face streaked with blood—not all of it his own. "We're losing ground. The main forces are pushing in from the east."

She knew what that meant. If they lost the eastern courtyard, they lost their last escape route. A crack of thunder shook the heavens, lightning illuminating the battlefield for a brief moment. In that instant, she saw him again—Varian, standing at the ruined fortress gates, his dark eyes locked onto her with eerie calm.

He lifted his sword and pointed it directly at her. A challenge. Seraphina's fingers tightened around her weapon, the weight of it suddenly heavier. The choice before her was clear—face him now, or risk everything.

Another explosion rocked the ground, sending dust and screams into the air. The rebels were faltering, the kingdom's soldiers were relentless, and the power inside her was growing restless. 

Her heart pounded. It was time to decide.

Would she fight? Or would she fall?