IMMORTALS

C H A P T E R 8

The dawn that rose over the flooded valleys was not golden; it was choked with the bitter gray smoke of war.

Inside the great cliffside cavern, the atmosphere was a cauldron of frantic preparation. Word of the wounded celestial sentinel had spread across the jagged ravines like wildfire. From hidden river inlets, hollowed-out hillsides, and mud-brick settlements, hundreds of post-deluge mortal survivors gathered at the Iron Ridge stronghold. They carried broken bronze farm tools, crude yew spears, and shields fashioned from petrified oak—a ragtag army of mud and bone defying the lords of the sky.

In the subterranean forge deep within the cave, the heat was suffocating.

Ethan stood bare-chested over a massive stone anvil, his skin slick with sweat and soot. The cuts along his brow and the dark bruises across his cracked ribs throbbed with persistent mortal ache, but his movements were relentless. In his right hand, he swung a heavy iron sledgehammer down onto a glowing ingot of raw bronze.

CLANG! CLANG!

Beside him stood Lili, her dark, sculpted silhouette radiant in the firelight. Her lightning burn had been bound in clean linen, and her amber eyes glowed with fierce, concentrated purpose. She placed both palms over the hot metal on the anvil. As Ethan hammered, Lili channeled the crimson pulse from her chest into the blade, infusing the mortal bronze with the raw, untamed fire of their awakened rebellion.

With every strike, the metal hissed, absorbing the crimson luminescence until the weapon shone with a blood-red sheen capable of cutting celestial silver.

"You need to rest, Ethan," Lili whispered softly, stepping closer to gently wipe a streak of soot from his cheekbone. Her touch was tender, a soothing balm amidst the ringing iron. "Your ribs are broken. If you exhaust your blood before the sun sets—"

Ethan dropped the hammer onto the dirt and caught her waist, pulling her flush against his chest with fierce, breathless hunger. His blue eyes locked onto hers, dark with unvarnished passion. "I don't need rest, Lili. I need you safe. When that beacon at the wall lights up, Jude is going to unleash celestial weapons this earth has never seen. I will not watch you burn."

"We fight together," Lili answered, her fingers tangling in his damp golden hair, tilting her chin up to meet his mouth. The kiss was brief, fierce, and tasting of copper and smoke—a vow sealed in heat and defiance.

Thalia stepped into the forge, carrying a weathered parchment map stitched together from dried hide.

"The scouting party returned," Thalia said, her gravelly voice cutting through the ringing metal. She spread the hide over a flat boulder. "Jude has fortified the Lower Bastion at the base of the Great Wall. She's constructing the Seraphim Beacon—a sun-core siphon meant to funnel celestial lightning and vaporize this entire basin within three leagues."

"How much time do we have?" Ethan asked, leaning over the map, his jaw set like iron.

"Until twilight," Thalia replied grimly. "When the sun aligns with the high towers, the siphon charges. If the beam strikes, nothing living will remain in this valley."

"We hit the siphon before twilight," Lili stated, pointing to a narrow, submerged gully tracing the base of the mountain rampart. "The floodwaters left deep silt channels here. The high sentinels won't expect a ground assault through the drowned marshes."

"It’s suicide," Thalia said with a grim smirk. "I like it."

As the mortal clan strapped on their crimson-forged weapons, Ethan picked up a long, blood-tempered broadsword from the trough, testing its balance. He turned to Lili, wrapping a protective leather bracer around her forearm, his hands lingering over her pulse.

"No matter what happens on that field," Ethan murmured, his forehead resting gently against hers, "you are my eternity."

"And you are mine," Lili whispered back.

Suddenly, the cavern shook with an earth-shattering tremor. Loose gravel rained down from the ceiling as a blinding pillar of golden light pierced the afternoon sky outside, illuminating the valley in unnatural, searing brilliance.

The Seraphim Beacon had ignited early.

High above the canyon, descending from the golden clouds on wings of crackling celestial plasma, three Seraphim Dreadnoughts crested the ridge, their spears leveled at the cavern entrance.