The Battle of Barrow Pass

Dawn broke blood-red over the Pass of Ancient Barrows.

Eight thousand human soldiers formed ranks at the pass entrance, their armor gleaming dully in the crimson light. Behind them, siege engines groaned into position. Above, ravens circled, sensing the feast to come.

At the pass's heart, a thin line of defenders waited.

Three thousand beast-folk warriors. The Magic Soldier Corps. And at their head—

Altrelis stood upon a weathered boulder, the Void Scepter blazing in his grip.

"They're coming," Luna reported, materializing beside him. "The full army. Axel leads personally."

"Then he dies personally." Altrelis's voice was cold. "Positions?"

"Isana holds the eastern heights. The Wolf Tribe archers are in place. Our infantry forms three lines as planned."

"The Hellfire spell?"

"Ready. She says she can hold it for one massive strike or several smaller ones."

"Tell her to wait for my signal. One strike, maximum devastation."

"Understood."

Altrelis turned to face his army.

"WARRIORS!"

Three thousand voices fell silent.

"Today, they come to destroy everything we've built. Our homes. Our families. Our future." His voice carried across the ranks like thunder. "They call us beasts. Monsters. Things to be hunted and enslaved."

He raised the Void Scepter high.

"TODAY WE SHOW THEM WHAT MONSTERS TRULY ARE!"

"SCHWARZBURG!"

The roar shook the mountains.

"ADVANCE!"

Axel's command sent the human army surging forward.

The first wave crashed against the beast-folk shield wall like waves against stone.

"HOLD!" Commander Ragnar bellowed. "HOLD THE LINE!"

Lion-folk warriors braced their tower shields, absorbing the impact. Wolf-men with glaives slashed through gaps, reaping terrible harvests.

"MAGES—FRONT!"

The Magic Soldier Corps stepped forward.

Two hundred staffs rose in unison.

"ELEMENTAL BARRAGE!"

Fire, lightning, ice, and stone erupted from the formation.

The human advance disintegrated.

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Axel screamed from his command position. "THEY HAVE TRAINED MAGES?! WHERE DID THEY GET TRAINED MAGES?!"

"My lord, we must reconsider—"

"BRING UP THE SIEGE ENGINES! DESTROY THEIR LINE!"

The battle raged for hours.

Wave after wave of human soldiers crashed against the beast-folk defenses. Wave after wave fell back, leaving bodies in their wake.

But sheer numbers began to tell.

"The second line is buckling!" Ragnar reported, blood streaming from a gash on his forehead. "We can't hold much longer!"

Altrelis calculated rapidly.

The enemy had lost perhaps three thousand—but they still outnumbered his forces nearly two to one. And his warriors were tiring.

Time to end this.

"Signal Isana. Now."

Luna's hand flashed—three quick bursts of magical light.

On the eastern heights, Isana saw the signal.

She smiled.

"Finally."

The sky turned orange.

Every combatant, friend and foe alike, paused to stare upward.

Isana stood upon the highest cliff, her white hair whipping in winds of her own creation. Both arms were raised high, and between them blazed a sphere of fire larger than any spell seen in living memory.

"This is for my family," she whispered.

"HELLFIRE."

The sphere descended.

It struck the center of the human army like the fist of an angry god.

Fire consumed everything.

Soldiers became screaming torches. Horses exploded from the heat. Even stone cracked and melted.

When the flames cleared, a crater fifty feet across marked where a thousand men had stood.

Silence.

Then—

"DEMONS! THEY'RE ALL DEMONS!"

The human army broke.

Not retreat—rout.

Soldiers threw down their weapons and fled. Officers couldn't restore order. Even hardened veterans ran.

Lord Hirt was among the first to turn his horse.

Lord Palras followed moments later, his political calculations abandoned to sheer survival.

Only Axel remained, frozen in his saddle, staring at the devastation.

"No," he whispered. "This can't... this can't..."

"LORD AXEL! WE MUST RETREAT!"

His guards seized his reins, dragging him away.

And the Battle of Barrow Pass was over.

Altrelis surveyed the field.

Bodies littered the pass—most of them human. The survivors were scattered across the hills, fleeing in every direction.

"Casualties?" he asked.

"Approximately four hundred dead, six hundred wounded." Ragnar's voice was weary but triumphant. "The enemy lost... it's hard to say. At least four thousand. Perhaps more."

"The lords?"

"All escaped. But their army is shattered. It will take them months to rebuild."

Altrelis nodded slowly.

He should feel victorious.

Instead, he felt only exhaustion.

'This is the reality of war,'* the Wisdom observed quietly. *'Not glory—grief. Not triumph—survival.'

'So many dead.'

'Yes. And more will die before this is truly finished. But today, your people survived. That is not nothing.'

Isana descended from the heights, her face pale and drawn.

"It's done," she said simply.

"The spell—are you all right?"

"Exhausted. But..." She looked at the crater, at the battlefield beyond. "It felt good. To use my power for something that mattered."

Luna appeared beside them.

"The enemy is in full retreat. Shall we pursue?"

Altrelis considered.

"No. Let them go. Let them carry stories of what happened here."

"Stories?"

"Fear is a weapon too." His purple eyes swept the field of death. "When they speak of this day, they will warn others: this is what happens when you attack Schwarzburg."

He turned toward home.

"We have wounded to tend, dead to honor, and a future to build. The war can wait."

End of Chapter Eleven

—Final Chapter: The Dawn of a New Order