Chapter 27: The First Assault
541 Words
Night fell like a dark curtain over the valley, illuminated only by the blazing torches along the palace battlements and the glowing red fires of Malakor’s camp.
The siege began with a deafening roar.
Malakor’s dark sorcerers, standing on raised wooden platforms behind their front lines, began chanting in a guttural, forbidden language. Streaks of dark red energy shot up into the sky, raining down upon the palace walls like explosive meteors.
BOOM! BOOM!
The heavy stone ramparts shook violently as the dark magic slammed into the defenses, sending showers of dust and stone debris cascading down onto the courtyard below.
"Return fire!" Silas shouted from the northern tower.
The heavy ballistas along the battlements fired, launching massive silver bolts into the advancing dark ranks. Dozens of dark warriors were impaled, their agonizing screams filling the night air, but Malakor’s force pressed forward without fear or hesitation, driven by the dark magic surging through their blood.
"They are bringing up battering rams toward the main gate!" a guard shouted.
"Shadow Lycans, form up!" Killian’s voice boomed across the courtyard.
The heavy oak gates of the palace opened just enough for Killian, myself, and two hundred elite Shadow Lycans to step out onto the wooden drawbridge.
We stood in a tight, impenetrable formation, blocking the narrow bridge leading across the deep moat surrounding the palace.
A horde of mutated, bloodthirsty wolves rushed onto the bridge, their jaws dripping with foam, their eyes glowing sickly red.
I stepped to the front of the line, drawing my two silver blades.
My Sun Wolf blood surged to life, igniting a brilliant, golden fire along the edges of my blades. The golden light illuminated the dark night, blinding the advancing beasts and burning through the dark magic infusing their bodies.
I spun through the front rank of mutated wolves, my blades moving in a lethal arc. Every strike severed heads and limbs, the holy Sun Wolf fire destroying the dark sorcery instantly.
Beside me, Killian was a whirlwind of absolute devastation. His massive broadsword cleaved through armored warriors and giant beasts alike, his ancient Lycan aura crushing the spirits of any enemy that came near him.
Together, we held the drawbridge for three grueling hours, stacking the bodies of Malakor’s army high upon the wooden planks.
No matter how many they sent, they could not break through our line.
From the high balcony of his command tent, Malakor watched the slaughter with rising fury. He realized that as long as the High King and Queen stood at the gate, his army would never cross the moat.
Malakor raised his hand, signaling his sorcerers to cease the frontal assault.
The dark warriors pulled back into the shadows of the forest, leaving the bridge quiet except for the heavy breathing of our tired warriors.
"Why are they retreating?" Silas called down from the wall.
Killian’s eyes narrowed as he wiped dark blood from his blade. "They are not retreating. Malakor is preparing something worse."
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