The morning fog filled the Elarion landscape like a whisper of the coming storm. The courtyard outside its castle was filled with a hundred chosen soldiers, the best from all of Elarion's kingdom, clad in armor and mounted on their horses, selected to escort one man to a forgotten ruin behind Valecrest Ridge. Solhen Merach was mounted on a horse prepared for him, dressed in his dark mantle, a wizard's hat of the same color, and his staff gripped in his hand like a sword ready for battle. He held the reins lightly, his expression calm as usual, but his eyes carried a rare, serious weight. This was no ordinary departure; what he intended to do could tip the scales of fate or consume it, bringing a result worse than anyone's darkest fears.

  Before leaving, Solhen looked at the people standing before him, the people who held the keys to winning this battle in more ways than one. His gaze first fell upon Sora, and he spoke to him, his tone firm yet soft. "The key to this battle lies with you, Silent One," Solhen said, his voice steady. "When the plan we have made does not go as intended and ends in failure, even if the wind does not blow as strongly as I have promised, you will be the one to determine how this battle ends." Sora nodded slowly and firmly, his eyes showing not fear, but a readiness for the words of Solhen, the Architect of Silence.

  Then Solhen turned to Kaelith and re-emphasized her vital position. "You are the edge of the shadow that supports the attack from these walls and the final defense, making you and your unit the last shield of the castle. The archers are the last line on the battlefield, and they will look to you when hope begins to fade," he said firmly. Kaelith could only let out a soft breath, but her reply was resolute. "Let them come. They will never touch or see what is behind this gate." Hearing her answer, Solhen gave her a small smile for her resilience and courage. Next, he turned his gaze to Vael and asked about him. "Knight of Borreal, tell me... what does a true knight of Borreal look like on the battlefield?" he asked, his tone firm yet calm. Vael stepped forward, his hand already on the hilt of his sheathed sword. "You will see the meaning of a Borreal knight when you have completed your plan. You will see and understand why we never write or carve the stories of our battles. Because we prefer to leave those stories in the earth, along with the people who tried to take our oaths by force." His words were clear, and Solhen observed him for a moment longer before nodding in respect. "I believe in you, knight of Borreal," he said firmly, a smile on his lips.

  And finally, his gaze fell upon Namien, his student and the one he considered a son. Namien stepped closer to Solhen with a faint smile on his face, despite the tension of the departure. "Before you go... one last riddle?" he asked in a whisper. Solhen raised an eyebrow. "You already have a plan for this?" Namien shrugged. "You're old, and you need a reminder that you still have a human mind, old man." Solhen chuckled softly. "Alright... alright... Give it to me!" Namien leaned closer and whispered. "What walks without feet, flies without wings, and cannot be caught unless you hear it first?" Solhen closed his eyes for a moment to think, and then... his eyes opened slowly as he began to answer. "...The sound of one's regret?" Namien, hearing his answer, was surprised and then burst out laughing. "Damn you old bastard, that's not the answer." Solhen smiled, seeing that Namien was still the same as when he had taught him. Then, he took the reins of his horse. "But it's the right answer, isn't it?" Namien's laughter faded into something more affectionate. "Of course..."

  Solhen turned to the assembled group, looking at King Aetheryn who stood beside his captains and officers. "Whatever happens at Valecrest, the wind I call cannot be tamed by anyone. Guard your fire and guard your people," the Architect of Silence said, to which the king nodded. "And may the silence guide you, Architect." Solhen's hand raised slowly in farewell as the wind began to blow at his back. He spurred his horse forward, and Solhen Merach and his escort began to move out of Elarion towards the forgotten altar buried beneath Valecrest Ridge. Behind the gates, as the dust from the hooves began to fade, the city moved quickly. The evacuation of refugees from the innermost districts had been completed that morning. All of Elarion's inhabitants were guided to safety in underground sanctuaries designed centuries ago, hidden deep beneath the castle's roots. Kaelith gathered her archer unit, Vael stood among the infantry giving firm and unshakable directions, Namien entered the command tent to study the map and order the decoy troops to prepare, and Sora... since Solhen left, he had been staring out the gate, motionless, feeling a strange premonition.

  The sky was still clear and it was quiet outside Elarion, but soon the anticipated storm appeared, and every piece set by Solhen... would move according to his plan. The wind that blew past Elarion now carried not peace or warmth, but the sharp scent of a battle looming on the horizon. The army was ready, the archer units were in formation on the southeast wall, and the cavalry unit was positioned near the Valecrest pass. The assigned hunters were hidden in the forest in an ambush formation. Meanwhile, the decoy force of 100 men stood silently out of range, waiting for the archers' signal. A tense silence enveloped the entire kingdom.

  Then, the thundering of hooves was heard, and from behind the northern ridge, a lone rider from the scouting party broke through the outer gate. The guards let him pass without delay, and the main castle gate creaked shut behind him. He was immediately led to the command tent where King Aetheryn stood surrounded by his generals, Sora, Kaelith, Vael, and Namien. The scout knelt and began his report. "Your Majesty, they... they are close. The enemy army will be within sight of the northern mountains in less than an hour." The scout gasped, his chest heaving. "And the second report?" Namien asked. The scout froze. "Speak!" King Aetheryn said more firmly. The scout swallowed before continuing, "Their commander... he is a human, Your Majesty." A stunned silence filled the command tent. "...A human? A man leading that savage horde?" Kaelith said, her brow furrowed in disbelief. The scout nodded, trembling slightly. "He marches at the front... in black armor... but everything behind him—" he paused, his eyes wide with a terror he had never known. "Demons, goblins, giants, and creatures from outside this world. Even... nameless beasts and... undead, numbering more than a hundred, or perhaps tens of thousands in total from what I could count." The room fell utterly silent. The king's hands gripped the edge of the map. "And you are sure he is a... human?" The scout didn't answer. He just... raised a single finger, indicating just one man among the thousands in his army. "How... how can one man command such things?" the king whispered, a question no one could answer. This was no longer just a war; it was a massacre waiting to happen.

  Then, the long, loud blast of a trumpet echoed through the air from the southeast wall. From the watchtower, three signal flares shot up, the reality they all feared. The enemy had reached the ridge, an armada of tens of thousands now visible from the gates of Elarion. In the fields, the decoy unit waited, their banners fluttering as the wind, initially soft, began to blow stronger, almost as Solhen had promised. The trap was set, the ground soaked with oil and tar. And above it all... the walls began to tremble, not with fear, but with the weight of all their preparations leading to this moment.

  The echo of the trumpet still resounded as Sora and Vael moved into the inner courtyard, their cloaks flying behind them as they leaped onto their horses. Not a word was spoken between them, only a nod of shared purpose. They galloped off, their hooves thundering on the stone and then the dirt path leading to the eastern forest, where their ambush unit hid in silence. At the same time, Kaelith sprinted along the path to the southeast wall, her bow now in her hand. She leaped onto the battlements where her archer unit waited, her eyes fixed on the approaching enemy horde. Without hesitation, Kaelith barked, "Form ranks, ready your arrows, and fire only on my command or the signal!"

  In the central command tent, Namien stood beside King Aetheryn. Then, a strong gust of wind slipped through the tent's canvas seams. Papers on the table flew about, and the torches outside bent to the side. Namien's eyes widened. He stepped out of the tent and looked up at the grey sky. The wind was blowing hard from west to east, exactly as needed for the battle. Namien was mesmerized, whispering, "It's not possible..." then he smiled, knowing that Solhen had done his part.

  Far away, upon the forgotten altar of Valecrest, Solhen Merach stood surrounded by ancient, weathered stones, his cloak flying in the wind he had summoned. His staff, untouched for decades, glowed faintly at its tip as he knelt before the altar. One hand was pressed to the earth, the other raised to the sky, holding his staff as if in prayer. He whispered ancient words of magic: "Let the silence be broken. Let the breath become a storm. Let the fire burn in its midst. And let the wind I call blow strong." The sky seemed to shift, and the wind became a roaring beast, obeying his command.

  On the battlefield, the enemy army, seeing the decoy unit, charged forward, thirsty for blood. Thousands of resurrected warriors, beasts never before seen, and other creatures like goblins, orcs, and ogres surged forward, their deathly shrieks their war drum. And at the head of these thousands of strange creatures... one man, with 99 others behind him on horseback, gave a gesture and spurred his horse toward the trap point. The decoy riders watched the enemy approach, and then some of them began to fall from their horses, ambushed by beasts faster than their mounts and brutally finished off. The leader of the decoy unit shouted to the others, "RIDE AS FAST AS YOU CAN! LEAD THEM TO THE TRAP POINT!" The remnants of the decoy unit, now only 20 riders, continued to race toward the eastern mountains, reaching the forest area. Vael, seeing them, gave the signal for the fire to be prepared.

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  The decoy riders spurred their horses as if a storm was at their backs, because it was. The wind roared behind them, pushing them toward the trap. When the decoy unit reached the promised spot, their leader shouted, "THEY'RE HERE!" and after that, the decoy leader immediately dispersed his troops into the trees just before the trap was sprung. An open field in the middle of a forest, a stretch like a barren meadow with dry bushes, so wet and sticky with the oil and tar that had been prepared as the trap. A smoke signal billowed into the sky from the bright green forest canopy. Kaelith saw it from the southeast wall and instantly shouted, her voice like a war drum. "ARCHERS, FIRE!!" A thousand bowstrings snapped at once towards the forest canopy. The fire arrows shot through the sky like a storm of vengeful spirits, streaking crimson across the twilight, blown by the fierce wind to reach their target. The arrows descended like hunting eagles and struck the trap ground below. The enemy lines, having reached the chase area, began to search for the scattered decoy unit. It was too late when they realized what they thought were falling stars were not stars at all, but arrows of fire meant for their death.

  The fire arrows rained down, hitting the oil-rich ground with precision. The fire erupted like a living beast. A wave of red and orange devoured the forest floor, racing with the wind Solhen had called, spreading through the surrounding leaves and dry twigs, and their screams filled the trees. At least five thousand enemy troops were trapped in the fire in just a matter of minutes. From the ridge above, Vael and Sora watched through the smoke, their ambush force momentarily silent in awe and horror. Vael murmured softly, "That's Solhen's tactic..." But the fire was only the beginning. Behind the enemy lines, the commander on his black horse raised his hand and ordered his remaining 10,000 troops to attack, enraged by the sight of the smoke and the sound of his burning army. With a single brief gesture, he signaled the second wave to advance. The rest of the army began to move, some growling hesitantly as they saw their comrades burn. But their commander's will was absolute.

  Towards the next trap. In the war tent, Namien stood near the strategy map. When his guards called out that the second wave was approaching, he did not hesitate to give the order, "Signal the archer unit to fire on the oil-and-tar-soaked ground, now!" Another series of signals shot towards the southeast defensive wall, and Kaelith, receiving the order, gripped her bow and commanded her unit. "ARCHERS! FIRE AT THE GROUND!" Dozens of arrows, once again lit with fire, shot towards a circular trench that surrounded the front of the castle. These trenches, hidden and soaked with tar, erupted like a torrent of fire from a burning abyss, a soaring wall of heat and roaring flame that no man could pass without turning to ash. The second wave of the enemy army stopped, screaming in confusion and rage. But the giants had arrived, their footsteps like thunder. Their flesh was pale and full of rotting wounds. Some were bound with dark steel, dragging massive clubs, while others carried shields made from trees. They did not hesitate as they charged through the fire, their bodies burning but their advance unceasing. Kaelith's eyes narrowed and she shouted a new command. "BALLISTA! READY!" "FIRE!!" The ballista fired, and one of its bolts slammed into the chest of a giant, sending it crashing to the ground. Another bolt tore through a giant's shoulder, but the second giant roared louder than its pain. "RELOAD! QUICKLY!" Kaelith shouted, seeing 5 giants remaining and heading towards her defensive wall.

  On the eastern flank, Vael raised his sword high and shouted his command. "CAVALRY! ADVANCE!!" The thundering of hooves shook the ground as dozens of knights charged forward with war cries echoing among the trees. They charged into the blazing fire like spirits of vengeance, storming through the path that had been opened between the flames. Their swords lit with fire, they began to slash at the remnants of the first wave, leaving none alive. And behind them, the infantry unit waited with their shields locked, silent and calm. Waiting for Vael's command, and among the smoke, Sora began to move like an unleashed shadow. The fire around the battlefield slowly died down to embers and ash. Vael, on his horse, slowed to a stop in a field that was now nothing but the charred corpses of goblins, ogres, and other creatures. Smoke curled into the sky in a solemn, thick, and silent spiral. Vael narrowed his eyes and murmured softly, "Nothing left," then he shouted to his entire unit, "MOVE TO THE NEXT POINT!"

  Back at the castle, Kaelith was pushed into a frenzy. The giants were getting closer to her defensive wall. The ballista had fired its bolts at three giants, whose bodies now lay near the wall of fire, but the fourth was still lumbering toward the wall, flames licking its skin. To make matters worse, the wall of fire was beginning to fade. "WHERE ARE THE OTHERS, HUH!?" Kaelith roared, firing arrow after arrow at the giant's open eye, causing it to howl in pain and stagger back, but it still did not fall and soon continued its advance. The oil and tar were gone, but Kaelith's hands never stopped moving. And just as her breath began to catch, the scream of the cavalry and infantry ambushing from the side split the air. Kaelith saw Vael's cavalry storm the enemy armada, descending the ridge with their swords raised and their shields shining. Beside Vael, Sora spurred his horse, his blade held ready as he led the second line of attack. The ambush force crashed into the enemy lines like a wave of steel, shocking them instantly. The enemy's second wave shattered from the unexpected impact from their flank, and their numbers, which had started at 10,000, were reduced to 8,137.

  But the enemy commander, watching from a high hill, was furious. He took out and crushed a small, bone-carved stone. The sound that echoed across the battlefield was not a crack, but a piercing, unnatural wail. A lament that stopped the fire in its breath as figures began to emerge from the clouds. From the horizon, five massive figures appeared with blackened, rotting wings. Undead Dragons with rotting scales, their mouths empty and their jawbones exposed, their breath poisoning the air with a green fog that flowed from their jaws like a whisper of death. One by one, the dragons let out a hoarse roar that made the sky tremble. The battlefield changed in an instant. From the war tent, Namien slammed both his hands on the table. "DAMN IT! WHAT KIND OF BASTARD ARE WE TRYING TO FIGHT HERE, HUH?" "Five of them! How could he summon five at once, HOW?" No one could answer the absurd question. Namien turned and tried to take out a scroll from his pocket, about to write a new, riskier plan. "I need time. Time to think so we can take down one of those five dragons with arrows or fire but... not with this. Not..." Namien found one possibility and began to utter it, "If one of those troops is tied to a summoning stone." "If we don't sever the connection with the summoner as soon as possible, they will turn this city, even this kingdom, into ash and their additional troops." The king could only nod grimly. "Then find the connection, now!"

  Outside the tent, as the undead dragons descended with a shrieking fury and Elarion trembled beneath their wings of death... the once-solid plan born of fire now faced its darkest challenge. Deep in the ruins of the ancient altar, Solhen had finished his ritual. The spell was etched into his soul, making his limbs tremble, but the spell had worked. The fire had answered, and the trap was successfully executed. But that chance now wavered as Solhen, on his way back, looked up at the sky and felt something was wrong. He saw the five undead dragons circling Elarion like a sign of imminent destruction. Their breath scorched the earth in arcs of sweeping green fire, and the smell of death reached the trees beside him. Solhen's eyes narrowed. "They are bound... through the magic of a soul stone," he murmured softly. He dismounted his horse. "There is only one chance left to overcome this," he said softly, then turned to his troops. "Hold this position and form a defensive perimeter. Make no sound and do not act rashly. If they sense my presence while I cast the spell to turn this situation around, this spell will fail completely." He retreated deeper into the forest to hide. In the heart of the woods, the Architect of Silence knelt and plunged his staff into the ground, his lips moving slowly as he chanted old words, words of death mixed into a single spell. The ground around him pulsed, and the trees began to shake as the sky became unsettled.

  Back on the battlefield, all order began to collapse. Vael's cavalry, once precise and strong, was now scattered and burning in the chaos. Dragon fire rained down on the riders, turning men into flaming shadows. Vael shouted hoarse commands, trying to rally his unit. "REFORM! SHIELD WALL, WEST SIDE—!" But his words were lost beneath the roar of dragon fire. Beside him, Sora fought like a ghost in the fire, his blade ignited, but his movements slowed under the sheer weight of the heat, numbers, and the power from above. Their troops were surrounded. Even on the castle walls, Kaelith had nearly emptied her quiver. Her eyes were fixed on the last giant before her, its skin scorched, its left arm nearly gone, but it still stood. And now... the giant was at her defensive wall, slamming its club against the stone, shattering her footing. It grabbed two archers and threw them into the air like twigs. "HOLD THE GIANT!" Kaelith roared. "KEEP FIRING! AIM FOR ITS THROAT!" But as Kaelith was about to nock her final arrow, she saw something worse. The dragons were coming towards the wall. One of them dove low, and Kaelith screamed in desperation, "GET DOWN!" A blast of fire engulfed the western wall, incinerating half a dozen archers before they could even scream. The heat nearly threw Kaelith to the ground. She got up and fired her last arrow directly into the giant's eye. The giant shrieked and staggered but did not fall. Kaelith took a step back, then ran towards the giant and leaped onto it, driving her dagger into its face before pulling herself away as it fell, barely landing on the half-destroyed wall herself. Above, the sky began to groan, and the enemy commander moved slowly to the edge of a northern cliff with his thousands of elite guards. The battlefield was laid out before him: fire, bone, and death. Elarion's defense was faltering, its strategy in tatters. They were out of time. But far in the forest, far from the screams, Solhen whispered to those who had suffered more harshly, and at that moment, the ground around him began to tremble, and something older than fire began to awaken, something that should never have been woken.