The attack

Dim torchlight flickers across the cold stone walls. Kael, dressed in lavish robes, walks with an eerie calmness down a marble corridor, his boots clacking like a death bell.

He reaches a room where Niya is quietly cleaning a wooden table, her back slightly hunched, movements mechanical—like a puppet without strings.

Kael enters.

(voice smooth, sinister)

Hi, Niya.

She stops moving, her hands still on the cloth. Her body freezes for a second before she slowly turns.

(soft, lifeless)

Yes… Master Kael?

He walks toward her—step by step, until he's too close. She lowers her eyes, afraid to meet his gaze.

Take care of Lia tonight.

(pauses, then smirks)

After tomorrow's execution… I want someone fresh to entertain me.

Her hands tremble. Her eyes widen in horror.

(stammering)

W-What? Master, why her? Please… please, if you must, take me instead. She's just a child! Leave her out of this…!

SLAP!

The sound echoes sharply through the room as Niya crashes to the ground, her cheek red and bruising.

Kael looks down at her coldly.

(sharply)

Shut your mouth. I'll take whoever I want. That's a final order.

He turns and walks out the door without another word.

The room is silent except for Niya's stifled sobs as she slowly sits up, holding her face.

(whispering through tears)

I'm sorry, Lia… I couldn't protect you… I… failed you.

Lia, now twelve years old, stands in the shadow, just around the corner, unseen. She heard everything.

Her small fists are clenched. Tears silently stream down her cheeks.

She doesn't run in. Doesn't cry out.

Instead, she slowly turns around and walks away in silence—back down the corridor.

She closes the door gently and sits on the edge of her bed, hugging her knees.

Her voice is quiet, almost like a whisper to herself.

Brother Leo…

(her voice breaks)

When will you come?

Please… help me…

As the storm slowly brewed over the capital, so too did the bond between Leo and the rebels. No longer a mysterious outsider, Leo had become something more. A comrade. A symbol of hope. And perhaps… their sharpest blade.

Around a dim campfire in the rebel hideout, Lili sat quietly, the orange glow of flames dancing across her face. She slowly removed her gloves. A faint shimmer coated her skin, and glowing arcane marks traced her arms.

"I suppose it's time I told you all the truth…" she said softly. "I'm not just a mage. I'm a witch. A true one. Ancient blood. One of the last."

Some of the rebels stiffened. A few stepped back instinctively.

"A… a witch?" one of them muttered, looking uneasy. "You've been among us all this time?!"

Lili looked up, her expression steady. "Yes. I've never used it to harm any of you. And I never will. I'm here because Leo trusted me... and because I trust him."

Leo approached and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "She's saved my life more than once. If you trust me… then trust her."

There was a silence, then Sara stepped forward and handed Lili a bowl of stew.

"Then you're one of us, witch or not."

Over the following days, the rebels trained together. Leo sparred with Zack, both exchanging fast-paced strikes with sweat and laughter. Lyra and Leo sat cross-legged in meditation, tuning into the whispers of the void together. Lili taught younger mages simple yet potent spells. Sheron, the giant of a man, roared with laughter as Leo narrowly dodged one of his monstrous swings. And at night, they all ate together under grey skies, sharing stories and dreams.

"I came here looking for revenge… but I found something else too. Purpose," Leo thought.

The day arrived. The sky was heavy with rainclouds, wind brushing cold against the skin. In the center of the capital, Kael stood tall on a high platform, clad in silver-black armor. His voice rang unnaturally loud across the hushed square filled with trembling citizens.

"I shall now read the names of the saved."

He slowly unfurled a scroll, and read ten names with bored precision.

"House Venloris. House Drel. House Kormund. House Saelin. House Verik. House Elowen. House Brantz. House Derun. House Sovel. House Halrick."

Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd.

"That's it? Only ten?" someone whispered. "The rest of us…?"

Kael smiled cruelly. "The rest of you… will serve the kingdom in another way. In death."

Gasps echoed. A wave of panic surged through the people.

"Please!" cried an old woman, stepping forward, trembling. "Mercy, Hero King! My grandchildren—!"

Kael's expression softened. "Of course. I'll show you mercy." Then, coldly: "I'll send you all to the afterlife with honor."

He drew his sword in one motion. The blade flashed red—and in an instant, dozens of heads rolled. Blood soaked the cobblestones. Screams erupted.

Some people ran toward the gates, only to find them sealed shut by glowing magic. Panic turned to terror.

"Try to run," Kael said with amusement. "It'll be more entertaining."

He dropped from the platform to personally execute the old woman, raising his sword again. But before the blade could fall—an arrow of fire streaked through the sky.

It exploded midair.

Kael was pushed back, eyes narrowed as the smoke cleared. The woman was gone.

"What…?" he muttered.

From the rooftop of a nearby house, a familiar voice rang out.

"Let's go, rebels! Burn the chains!"

Sara stood tall, bow drawn, smiling with pride. Kael vanished in a blur of speed, reappearing in front of her mid-air, fist swinging.

But a massive sword intercepted the blow with a metallic scream. Sheron stood between them, unshaken.

"You blocked me…?" Kael muttered in disbelief.

Above them, Lili floated in the air, her witch form unveiled. Her cloak billowed like smoke, her eyes glowing with magic.

"What's the matter, Kael?" she said, her voice like thunder through the clouds. "Scared of me?"

Amid the chaos and the cries of rebellion, Lyra was deep within the heart of the capital, guiding groups of terrified civilians through crumbling alleyways and burning corridors. Her hands moved quickly, weaving spells of protection. Glimmering magical barriers shimmered around the innocent—men, women, even children—as they tried to escape the slaughter.

Guards charged, weapons drawn, bloodlust in their eyes—but Lyra didn't strike. She raised walls of light, redirected blades, disarmed them when possible. She couldn't bring herself to kill, even those who might not hesitate to kill her.

"Please," she whispered to herself, pushing her magic to the limit. "Just get out. I'll protect you."

Then, without warning, a sharp sound behind her—a blade cutting the air. Her eyes widened. A guard had broken through, sword raised high to cleave her down.

But he never reached her.

In a blur of motion and a sickening slice, the guard's body split cleanly in half, falling to the ground in two motionless pieces.

Lyra spun around in shock—only to see Balzock standing behind her, his weathered cloak fluttering from the force of his strike.

"Huh, Chief? Was that you?" she asked, stunned.

Balzock gave a sideways glance and a toothy grin. "Of course. You think this old man's just here for moral support?"

Before she could answer, another guard lunged at Balzock's side—but with a single glance, the man was bisected without Balzock even appearing to move.

Lyra gasped. "I didn't even see you draw your sword…!"

Balzock chuckled, resting his blade on his shoulder. "One of my two main skills. I can accelerate any type of attack to beyond visible speed."

Lyra's eyes sparkled with wonder. "So that means… you already struck before I even realized you moved?"

"Exactly," Balzock said. "You blink, and it's already over."

"Thank you," she said sincerely, and then refocused her magic. A dome-shaped barrier shimmered around the panicked civilians, shielding them from falling debris and incoming arrows.

Balzock cracked his neck and took a step forward. "I'll make a path. Get them out safely."

And with every swing—barely visible, barely audible—guards were cleaved down like paper before they even understood they'd been hit.

As he cut through the enemy ranks, he thought to himself, his expression tightening:

"Leo… what are you doing out there? I hope you're alright."

Inside the castle, the storm had already begun.

Glass shattered as Leo crashed through a high window, landing with eerie silence in one of the grand halls. His violet eyes scanned the dark corridor. Shadows clung to his armor like it welcomed the darkness—no sound, no hesitation.

"I have to control my energy," he muttered to himself. "If Kael senses even a flicker, it'll all fall apart."

A flicker of memory passed through him.

Backflash.

"Lili," Leo said, standing near the edge of a cliff the night before, wind rushing through his white-and-grey hair, "when the battle starts, I need you to place a barrier around the entire castle."

Lili, her witch's cloak flowing like ink in the night, looked at him with concern. "To trap them inside?"

"No," Leo replied. "To hide me. I'm going in first. If Kael senses my power spike, he'll either flee or kill them before I reach. I need the barrier to suppress any trace of my energy until I want him to know."

Lili nodded, serious. "Understood."

Back in the castle, Leo crept forward, every step calculated. "I need to find Niya… and Lia. But where…?"