And we did.
Sword in one hand, lightning in the other, I felt it all — the rush, the fear, the strange calm. My magic hummed in sync with the storm overhead now. Every strike I made lit up the battlefield like midday sun.
But there were too many.
By the time we cleared the first wave, two knights had already fallen — their bodies dragged back by comrades while healers worked frantically in the background.
I gritted my teeth, breath fogging in the cold.
“Again,” I said, voice raw.
Alaric stepped beside me, his hand on my shoulder just briefly — grounding. “We’re not done yet.”
A second wave came, bigger and uglier. Orc-like things with jagged bone armor and butterfly-winged creatures that dripped poison from their mouths.
The fight blurred after that.
Magic. Blood. Lightning. Shado
