Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
ALENA
Katell moved first. She stepped into the hollow riverbed, boots sinking into slick stone and mud, crimson cloak trailing behind her—a streak of blood against the grey. Black magic shimmered at her ankles, curling upwards in restless coils.
Behind her came Dalmatius, a general of gold and crimson, flames flickering at his fingertips, face half concealed by his helmet.
Line upon line of Rasennan soldiers followed, pouring from the tree line—shields raised, spears gleaming, red-crested helms ablaze in the morning light. The earth quaked beneath their advance.
Dozens became hundreds, a sea of men in bronze and leather, chanting “Rasenna” and their Emperor’s name as if he were a god in his own right. They marched into the defiled riverbed, wading through the parted waters, ready to confront even the Western gods if they dared oppose them.
“Well, that’s one way of breaking the treaty,” Nik said, unsheathing his sword and lifting the shield from his back.
Before Alena could reply, the sharp blare of Western horns pierced the gathering storm. Thunder answered in kind, low and rolling, a sound that vibrated through her bones.
“The other tribes have returned,” Leukos said, distracted, his gaze locked on the river path, shoulders taut.
Then—shouts. Screams.
The distant clash of steel.
What had begun as a signal became something more—a warning, a cry of panic.
The first cold drops of rain struck Alena’s skin like pinpricks. She looked back towards the hill.
Chaos had erupted.
Soldiers stood in disarray, their backs turned from the river instead of towards it. Smoke from the pyres billowed up, obscuring her view, yet she caught flashes of steel and frantic movement amid the turmoil.
“What’s happening?” she asked, fear creeping in.
Leukos followed her line of sight, brow furrowed. Thunder cracked once more, louder this time, as if the sky were splitting apart. Nik vanished in a swirl of wind.
Alena stood frozen, breath caught in her chest. All she could do was listen. Metal against metal. Horns blaring, discordant.
Then a ragged shout tore above it all: “Retreat!”
Nik reappeared, drenched through, blond hair whipping wildly across his face. His skin was pale beneath the storm-lit sky.
“They’ve been turned,” he said, voice strained.
Alena blinked. “What?”
“The tribesmen—they’re attacking our rear line,” he gasped. “One of the Rasennan legates is controlling them. Mind magic. They’re not themselves.”
“Legate Tarxi,” Leukos spat the name like venom.
A cold knot twisted in Alena’s stomach, but before she could reply, a clap of thunder shattered the sky, followed by a blinding flash of lightning that illuminated the battlefield.
The bolt struck with ruthless precision, tearing into the attackers. Screams ripped through the air as men fell, bodies flung aside, scorched and smoking.
Leukos didn’t flinch. “The Westerners called the Thunder by his true name. And he answered.”
His focus returned to the river, rain streaking his face. Katell was already halfway across—each step unhurried, eerily calm.
“They’ll deal with Tarxi,” Leukos said, “while we hold the line here.”
Alena bit down hard on her lip, forcing her gaze from the chaos behind them to the river ahead. Katell was the threat now.
With a breath, she summoned the Cyprian’s Gift.
Magic shimmered across her skin in pearlescent light, forming the mother-of-pearl armour that gleamed with the soft radiance of moonlit coral.
Her mother’s torc rested just above the collar, its familiar weight steadying her pulse, anchoring her amid the storm.
Katell appeared, with Dalmatius a few paces behind—and at that moment, Alena saw her chance.
“Keep him busy,” she said to Leukos and Nik. “The Makhai are holding the river. Katell’s exposed—I’m going to try to reach her.”
Nik froze. “You’re going to what? Gods, Alena—”
“The sooner we snap her out of it, the sooner we can help Volcos,” Alena cut in, her words clipped and urgent.
Leukos seemed ready to argue, but his attention snapped past Alena, fixed on the river path.
“She’s right. The river’s holding them in.
” His eyes swept over the channel, calculating.
“If we pin them here, they’re trapped—no room to retreat or manoeuvre.
If Katell falters, the Rasennans will drown in their own ambition. ”
Nik shook his head. “If Katell doesn’t come to her senses, she’ll strike at Alena first.”
“Then guard her back,” Leukos replied, frost already crawling down his arms to his fingertips. “I’ll keep Dalmatius occupied.”
Lightning forked above, illuminating the valley in stark, unnatural white. Rain poured in sheets as Alena took off, heart pounding. “Buy me time,” she shouted, words nearly lost in the storm’s roar.
Leukos and Nik followed in her wake. Behind them, the wolves loosed a low growl, ears pinned flat as they crept to the river’s edge, watching their rear.
Then all three slipped into the riverbed.
The tumult of wind and battle faded behind the sloped banks, muffled as if buried in stone. Rain still fell, but the wind had calmed, its breath curling in strange, ghostlike echoes along the riverbed walls. Lightning flashed again, its glare fractured by the mist hanging in the air.
Alena pressed on, boots slipping through mud and ankle-deep puddles. The parted waters of the Rodanos quivered just beside her, barely held back by the two Makhai.
The world above was mayhem. But down in the river, the silence was worse.
Katell stood alone, poised in the middle of the path. Her cloak clung to her damp shoulders, hands at her sides, unmoving. Her eyes—blacker than shadow—fixed ahead, holding no recognition. No fury. No fear. Just a hollow, terrible calm.
Nik stepped forward, face grim. “Kat—”
Dalmatius emerged from the mist, golden breastplate shimmering with magic, coils of flame snaking along his arms and over his shoulders. He walked with the confidence of a man who had already triumphed.
“It’s too late,” he said in flawless Koine, smooth and almost pitying. “She only listens to me now.”
The certainty in his words made Alena’s stomach turn.
Beside her, Nik’s whole body went rigid.
“The fuck she does,” he spat, something raw blazing behind his blue eyes.
Before Alena could stop him, he shot forward—fast as lightning, sword and shield blurring into motion. Leukos moved with him, ice-blue magic flaring up his arms.
Dalmatius met them head-on, a sharp smile cutting across his face. Fire erupted from his hands in a thunderous roar, but Leukos was ready. He summoned circular shields of ice that shattered the blaze with a hiss of steam and flickering light.
Nik darted through the smoke, a phantom in motion, blade sparking off Dalmatius’ armour. He zipped left, drawing fire—then swerved right, Leukos casting another shield behind him, dissolving flames into mist and forcing Dalmatius to split his focus.
Alena’s heart pounded. With Dalmatius held at bay, she moved closer. “Kat.”
Her sister remained a statue, wrapped in unnatural stillness. Every instinct screamed caution, but she pressed on. “It’s me.”
No response.
Behind Katell, magic clashed in an explosive blast, light flaring and steam shrieking into the air. Alena flinched, raising an arm against the scalding mist, heat clawing at her skin.
“Kat, please!” Her voice broke with panic. “Look at me! Whatever they did to you, it’s not who you are. You’re stronger than this—you always were!”
Still, Katell didn’t blink. Her eyes remained fathomless, unseeing wells of black.
Down the river path, Rasennan soldiers appeared in tight formation—shields locked at the front, on the flanks, and overhead. A wall of bronze, bristling with cold precision. Spears protruded from the gaps like teeth.
A pulse of ice erupted with a thunderous crack. Spires shot from the ground, shredding the shield wall. Wood and bronze splintered; cries of pain rang out as soldiers scrambled to escape the jagged frost.
Dalmatius snarled, rivers of fire bursting from his hands. Flames swept the path, forcing Nik back in a blur. Leukos raised both arms—ice surged up to meet the blaze.
Magic collided mid-air with a deafening boom, flames and frost locked in a storm of raw power.
The air split open.
A shockwave rippled outwards, striking Alena with the force of a brick wall. Magic seeped into her skin, igniting every nerve. She staggered back, coughing, heat and frost washing over her in suffocating waves. Smoke and steam thickened, choking her breath, blinding her sight.
Through the haze, Katell waited—silent, still, untouched.
Alena stumbled forward, breath ragged. She reached out, her hand shaking.
“Kat,” she whispered, the name catching in her throat. “Please—come back to me.”
Her fingers brushed Katell’s arm. It was cold beneath her touch.
Finally, her sister turned—but her focus wasn’t on Alena, but beyond.
The air went unnaturally still.
Something shifted behind Alena, chilling, unsettling. Dark magic crept over her skin, sinking into her bones.
Her blood froze.
She spun—
Too late.
A third Makhai loomed inches away, shrouded in ash and black rags.
Alena’s chest clenched. Her mouth opened to scream, but no sound came.
The demon towered above her, its armour grotesquely fused with flesh—melted breastplates and shattered helms swallowed by blackened muscle. Its head was crowned with rusted spikes, and where its face should’ve been, a yawning void gaped beneath layers of rotted cloth.
Her body locked. Terror rooted her in place, squeezing the air from her lungs. She couldn’t move. Could hardly breathe—
A skeletal hand rose, bloodied claws dripping with the promise of death.
Then—a blur of motion.
Nik slammed into her, a shock of speed and force that sent them both tumbling into the mud.
In the same instant, the Makhai’s blow sliced through the space where her head had been, claws shrieking through empty air. The demon hissed—a sound like steel dragged across bone.