RIO’S POV
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“HOLD THE LINE!” Rio’s voice strained against the roar of battle. His throat was raw, but he shouted again, forcing strength into his words. “THE NIGHT IS ABOUT TO END! HOLD
THE LINE!”
The second night of the beast tide was worse than the first. Dawn was breaking, yet the creatures had only grown wilder. Their eyes burned with frenzy, their ws and teeth cutting through steel as if the armor meant nothing. Soldiers shed with them at the barricades, the air thick with the smell of blood, smoke, and rot.
“Joneses!” Rio barked, spotting the veteran stagger as he swung his axe. “Assist Mendez! Now!”
Mendez was helping a soldier who was on his knees, his arm shed open, blood pouring down his side. Two men rushed to drag the wounded back, but another beast barreled toward them. Joneses leapt forward, axe mming into the creature’s skull before it could finish them. The impact split the ground with a wet crack.
More wounded were carried into the back lines every minute, healers scrambling with bandages and poultices, their faces pale from exhaustion. Men bled into the snow, some groaning, others silent, their weapons ttering uselessly to the ground.
Then came the worst of it, the flying beasts. Their wings cut across the sky, blocking out what little light was left. They dove straight into the ranks, ws hooking soldiers off the walls and dragging them screaming into the air. One crashed into the barricade, tearing apart the palisade as men scrambled to push it back.
“Archers! Bring it down!” Rio shouted, pointing his de upward. Arrows hissed through the air, piercing wings, but the creatures didn’t fall fast enough. Another swooped, grabbing a young soldier and flinging him across the yard like a broken doll.
Chaos ruled the field. Even the most disciplined lines bent under the assault. The beasts seemed endless, their numbers pressing from every direction.
Just as despair threatened to sink in, a sound split the air. A sharp, piercing screech, louder than the rest. The beasts faltered, their wings beating erratically.
Rio froze, his brow furrowing. The sun was rising, by instinct, the beasts should retreat. But instead of pulling back, they grew frantic, mming harder into their defenses. Could they even survive another wave?
Another screech tore through the sky. “Look!” someone shouted, pointing beyond the barricades.
10:41 Wed, Sep <b>17 </b>
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Rio turned. His eyes widened. From the treeline behind the horde, a surge of force erupted, like water bursting from a broken fountain, except it wasn’t water. It was a wave of blood and steel, beasts torn apart and hurled into the air as something cut straight through them.
Grace who had been standing at Rio’s side with her de slick with gore, gasped and then shouted with all the breath she had left. “The Lord is back! Lord Cassian is back!”
“The Lord is back!” Rio shouted, his voice breaking but strong enough for the men closest to him to hear. Now it made sense. Why the beasts seemed more desperate, why their attacks had grown
wild and reckless. They weren’t pressing harder because they thought victory was close. They were running from what was behind them. From him.
Lord Cassian.
From this distance, Rio couldn’t see clearly. All he could make out was the spray of blood and the way beasts were flung aside like broken kindling. He squinted, searching, but he couldn’t spot the Lady. Only the endless blur of violence that followed Cassian wherever he went.
Then Rio noticed something else. Shapes moving near Cassian. Not soldiers from the outpost, not familiar men. Company. The Lord had brought others? Rio narrowed his eyes, confusion cutting through the chaos, but there was no time to think.
“Rio!” Grace’s cry tore his focus back. A flying beast had hooked her from the side, ws sinking into her shoulder as it dragged her up into the sky.
“GRACE!”
Rio sprinted, boots pounding the blood–soaked ground. He drove his sword into the dirt, used it as leverage, andunched himself upward. His de ripped free as he rose, the sudden burst of strength fueled by fury. The beast screeched, twisting mid–air, but Rio mmed his sword into its wing joint. Bone cracked, flesh split, and the monster faltered.
Grace kicked hard, her own de stabbing upward into the beast’s neck. ck blood sprayed across both of them as the creature convulsed. Rio twisted his weapon free, and together they wrenched themselves loose. The beast crashed into the ground a momentter, thrashing once before going still.
Rio and Grace hit the snow, rolling hard but alive. He pulled her up immediately. “Are you alright?”
Grace, pale and bleeding from her shoulder, nodded with gritted teeth. “I’m fine. Keep moving.”
They rose together, des ready, and rejoined the line. The soldiers around them let out a roar, morale rising at the sight of them standing again.
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The tide of beasts still pressed in, but something was different now. The air itself felt charged. The men fought harder, the archers shot faster, and every swing carried new strength.
Because the Lord was back.
The night was almost over, dawn was breaking, and Lord Cassian had returned. They are going to survive! They will live!
Grace shed another beast across the throat, then leaned toward Rio, her eyes narrowing as she nced past the barricade. “Rio… the Lord seemed to have somepany.”
It didn’t take long before the sun broke over the horizon, light spreading across the battlefield. As Rio had expected, some of the beasts began to pull back, their frenzy weakening under the daylight.
But not all of them retreated fast enough. Lord Cassian and thepany with him cut them down without hesitation, clearing the stragglers as if they were nothing more than obstacles in their path.
Rio and Grace moved fast, cutting down thest of the beasts that clung to the barricades. With the tide breaking apart and the sun finally burning through the clouds, the soldiers let out ragged cheers.
“Come on,” Rio said, already making his way down from the wall. Grace followed, clutching her wounded shoulder but refusing to slow. Together they pushed through the exhausted men toward the main gates.
The gatekeepers looked to Rio for confirmation. He gave a firm nod. “Open it!”
The gears groaned as the tall gates shifted, the heavy wood and iron straining as the locks disengaged. Chains rattled, and slowly, the gates swung open.
The morning light spilled through the gap, carrying with it the sight of blood, corpses, and the figure that had carved his way across the battlefield, Lord Cassian, crimson–eyed, soaked his presence alone enough to silence the yard. Next to him was Lady Atasha.
in gore,
Seeing the two alive and safe, Rio let out a sigh of relief.
But before Rio or Grace could speak, someone else rushed forward. A younger man, lean and tall, his clothes torn from travel, broke past the stragglers and held something out in both
hands.
“Wait-” Rio started, his sword half–raised.
The young man stopped short, keeping his arms extended. In his palms rested a carved token, its surface etched with a pattern that glimmered faintly in the sunlight. It looked like jade,
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though rougher, older.
“Ie from the Shadowfen Tribe,” the man said quickly, his voice carrying urgency. “By order of my elders, I must see the Lord of the North.”