Third person POV:
The eclipse itself brightened, a contrast ring throbbering like a pulse. With each pulse drained more energy from the defenders. The air thickened with ash and weariness.
It all unfolded before Cedric's eyes on the topmost wall—their line breaking, their valor unraveling—and yet he shouted, throat raw, "Hold the line!"
But even his voice waver against the din of the enemy.
Lincoln stumbled, sweat and blood on his face, Ignivar's flame dying. Varyn faced him, hardly panting, eyes burning with vicious triumph.
"Look around you," he whispered. "Your friends drop one by one. The prophecy deceived you, Lincoln. You were never the savior. You were the spark to burn it all."
Lincoln's knees gave way. The rhythm of the Forge broke in his chest—tick, tick… stutter. He gazed
