“Fear is the forge that tempers the steel of courage. Bravery, the water that quenches the flame of terror.”

  – Avila

  They ran.

  With the night sky over Demis turned incandescent from the fires of war, Lithas and Kellen darted through the labyrinthine alleys below, dodging startled citizens. The revelries of the evening had crumbled under the sudden assault, the formerly festive city now rapidly descending into panic.

  Flames leaped from buildings, casting an eerie glow on the faces of fleeing residents. Once-vibrant market stalls lay abandoned, colorful goods scattered and trampled underfoot in the panic.

  Lithas’ heart hammered against her chest as the echo of the surprise attack lingered in her ears. Behind her, Kellen scanned each alleyway, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword.

  “We must get to the others at the inn and warn them,” Lithas called over her shoulder, concern cutting through her voice. The thought of Avila, Kael, and the others—unaware and unprepared—gnawed at her.

  They were staying at the Peacock’s Quill, a lavish inn tucked away from the main streets. Despite the late hour, it would still host its regular patrons, a motley assortment of travelers, merchants, and the occasional scholar. They would be laughing, drinking, sharing stories. Oblivious.

  As they rounded another corner, the warm glow of the inn finally came into view, a sharp contrast to the darkness that swallowed the city around it. But there was no time to rest, no time to bask in the familiar comfort of their temporary shelter. They raced, their footfalls a steady drumbeat against the cobblestone streets, carrying the first whispers of the brewing storm on the city’s horizon.

  Unbidden memories flashed through Lithas’ mind as she raced. Prince Cerax gathering himself, voice cutting through the cacophony like a sword through silk.

  “Seal the city gates!” He had commanded sharply. “Every man to his station. Archers on the ramparts! I want full reports.”

  Him turning to her. “Elevated.”

  She could still picture his face, as if he was standing in front of her now. A hard face, all angles. Its fierce determination a stark contrast to the chaos around them, “I’ll need your… talents. Can I count on you?”

  What had she answered again? Ah, yes. “Your city is now my city, Your Highness,” she had told him, without hesitation. “But I have my own responsibilities. I have to first make sure that my companions are safe.”

  And so they had parted, each protecting what they held most dear.

  Memory can be a brutal artist, sometimes, drowning moments of calm in a looming chaos. The echo of laughter, the taste of wine, the spark of conversation—all now intertwined with the impending catastrophe. The banquet hall of Demis, with its vaulted ceilings and elaborate tapestries, had been a bastion of celebration, famous throughout the entire bay. Now it would forever be tainted in Lithas’ memory, its grandeur overshadowed by the heralds of war.

  Lithas and Kellen burst into the inn, announcing their arrival more effectively than if they had shouted for attention. No big crowd, no laughing. Instead, a small group sat at a table in the corner, the rest of the inn seemingly deserted. Avila, Kael, and the others looked up from their mugs with drawn faces, their conversation stilled by the sudden arrival.

  “We’re under attack,” Lithas announced, determination burning in her eyes as she paced before the table, each step punctuating her words. The room had become deathly silent as she let her words sink in. “Loratha has struck, unprovoked and without warning. They’re outside the gates.”

  As she spoke, faces drained of color, mugs of ale were set down with hands that trembled slightly. Avila, his desert-worn face unreadable, finally broke the silence. “So we’d gathered. We heard rumors. We’d hoped they were just that,” he gestured around the empty room. “So, what do we do now?”

  “If you’d already heard, then why in the sands are you still here?” Lithas asked, forcing her voice to remain level. “There are enemies outside.”

  “We’re not soldiers, not really,” Kael interjected, uncertainly, “and this isn’t our war.”

  “Perhaps not,” Lithas responded, feeling her gaze harden. “But we’re here, and war has come to us. We can hide and hope we’re overlooked, hope that we can plead neutrality when the city burns. When they come to pillage and rape. Or we can stand with Demis.”

  “She’s right.” Kellen, as always her rock amidst chaos. “We can’t stand by and let these people suffer, not while we have the power to do something. That’s not who we are.” He pointedly looked at Kael, who seemed to shrink under Kellen’s gaze.

  Avila let their arguments go uncommented and kept his eyes on Lithas, calculating. “Well spoken, Kellen,” she added, using his momentum. “We’re not an army, but we can make a difference. We intervene.” Her words were swift, leaving no room for doubt or debate.

  Lithas turned to address her small ensemble. “Avila, you hold the inn with a third of our group,” she commanded, daring anyone to challenge her argument. “The inn is our fallback point. Keep it safe.”

  Avila nodded, a subtle agreement passing between them. No words were needed. Weirdly, Lithas was not quite sure whether she left the old man behind to protect him from the fighting or because she trusted him.

  “Kael, I want you with me,” Lithas continued, her golden eyes like flint sparking a fire. The young guard gulped. “Kellen, pick the rest—we’re heading for the walls.”

  In a swift set of practiced motions, Lithas donned her armor and made sure that everything was ready. Her resolve was steel. Yet beneath it lay a well of uncertainty she kept at bay. She clung to the necessity of defense like a lifeline amidst the chaos.

  Then the groups parted. Avila and his group moved to secure the inn, while Lithas and the rest of her guards left the warmth of the inn behind to step out into the chaotic streets of Demis.

  Where the walls of the inn had mercifully protected them, now Lithas took in the disaster that was war in its fullest. The air was filled with cries of alarm, crackling fires, distant echoes of conflict. Buildings that had been hives of activity before now lay abandoned, their occupants either fleeing or fighting at the walls. Lithas’ heart pounded as they hurried toward the city walls, each step bringing them closer to bloodshed.

  She had trained for this. She would not fail.

  Fortified with archer towers and steel-banded gates, the walls loomed ahead, bristling with blue specks of defenders. Lithas heard that special blend of battle cacophony long before they reached the front lines: the cries of the wounded, the clash of steel against steel, the guttural shouts of combatants locked in a deadly dance. Towering above it all, the walls themselves, half cloaked in shadow, half bathed in the flickering glow of torchlight.

  “Hey, where do you think you’re going? You’re not with the army.” A Demisian officer—a captain, if Lithas read his insignia correctly—came jogging over as he spotted them.

  “Special orders from the prince,” Lithas replied coolly, “we’re to reinforce this section of the wall.”

  The soldier eyed them dubiously, “Ain’t nobody told me anything. Civilians are to be…” Lithas interrupted the captain by raising her hand and letting the air in front of them shimmer with heat, washing over them like a wave. The captain blanched. “Right. Up ahead you go. Didn’t mean any disrespect. My lady.”

  Lithas dismissed him with a curt nod and they started up the steps.

  As they approached the top of the walls, the scene grew more distinct. Soldiers huddled behind the protective embrace of the battlements, releasing volley after volley of arrows into the besieging force. Kellen immediately pulled her to the side, as an answering volley from below clattered among the stones. He was not the only one looking out for his charge. Scattered throughout the groups of blue soldiers stood Elevated, lending their talents to the defenders, each well-protected by a squad of elite guards in dust-steel armor.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  In front of them, Lithas saw the chilling glint of frost creep across the crenellations, as an Elevated encased them in tall frozen barriers, against the incoming onslaught of arrows and trebuchet stones. Narrow slits in the slabs of ice allowed the defenders to shoot at the invaders unimpededly.

  As she rose, Lithas first impression was that the city walls of Demis were a tempest of activity, the milling soldiers united in one purpose: protect their city. At all costs.

  Here and there, skirmishes were already fought on the walls, as Lorathan soldiers climbed up ladders. Inching toward a spot between the battlements, Lithas finally got a good glimpse of the Lorathan force beyond the walls. And immediately wished she had not.

  By the sands, she thought. There are so many. How did they get so many soldiers here without anyone noticing? Lithas looked to Kellen and Kael, their faces tableaus of grim determination in the flickering firelight. She was not quite so sure about her own determination at that point. She had not signed up for this. But the world did not much care for her wishes, apparently.

  With a deep breath to calm her racing heart, she tried to collect herself, thoughts tracing back to her training. To that sands-damned training. But it helped. She felt her focus return as a sense of detachment settled down on her.

  Taking in her surroundings, Lithas began one last survey of the battlefield, analyzing the forces on both sides as she had been taught. Every flicker of hope that Demis’ Elevated offered was matched by the relentless savagery exhibited by the attackers. Below the walls, ringed by dust-steel elites herself, a Lorathan Elevated wielded small, concentrated whirlwinds, diverting arrows away from their targets. Another distant figure in red and black raised jagged stone barriers to protect the advancing Lorathan infantry. Gods were warring in Demis tonight.

  Lithas could feel the heat of the battle beneath her fingertips, a buzzing energy just waiting to be harnessed. Taking one last deep breath, she stepped into the fray. Calm drenched her in an instant. She spotted another group of Lorathans that was attempting to scale the city walls, ladders braced against the stones, cruel gleams of their swords visible in the torchlight.

  “This is us!” she called to her companions.

  Without another word, without so much as a glance at her guards, she extended her hand, fingers splayed wide. There was a brief silence—a true stillness—before a thin veil of heat shimmered around her hand. She focused her will on the top of the ladder and her power reacted instantly, rushing forth. The wood blackened, smoldered, and finally ignited. Fire burst forth, racing down the rungs and enveloping the climbers.

  Their screams echoed across the battlefield as they fell. At least this path to the city’s heart was closed off in a wall of flame. Smells of burned flesh and hair wafted over Lithas.

  A sudden voice in her head. “Good. Well done.” She shuddered.

  Beside her, Kellen and Kael descended on the few, disoriented Lorathan soldiers that had managed to reach the walls and were now looking back in horror. The rest of Lithas’ guards rushed after them. They moved as one, swords flashing in the torchlight, leaving only the fallen in their wake.

  She did not pause to watch Kellen and the others. Instead, her gaze swept across the battle, hunting for the next threat. Hunting for the next reward? Annoyed, she tried to dismiss the unbidden thought.

  Lithas reached a contested section of the wall, the ground littered with blue lumps—spattered with crimson—and saw a tall figure step forward, garbed in silken red and black. His cloak rippled in the wind as he raised his hand and a crackle of electricity danced between his fingertips.

  Big mistake to announce your powers before the fight has started. Allowed your opponent to prepare. She could still feel her ribs hurting for when they had taught her that on the Belt.

  Then the man pointed at Lithas and his lips moved in silent incantation. A spark jumped from his finger, arcing across the distance between them. It erupted where Lithas’ feet had been mere moments ago. The sharp scent of ozone filled the air, mingling with the smoke and dust of the battle.

  With a sharp intake of breath, Lithas summoned heat, creating a swirling vortex of hot air around her to disperse the lingering electrical charge. She glared at the Elevated. A duel. Sure, she knew duels. Let’s dance.

  They began to circle, two predators sizing each other up. He lunged first, throwing bolts of electricity that tore through the air while he did so. Lithas danced around them, countering with a barrage of heat waves that distorted the air into a shimmering kaleidoscope and disrupted his aim.

  Edging to one side, she then retaliated, launching bundled heat from her palms toward the Lorathan Elevated, turning the space between them into a fiery inferno. He twisted aside just in time, rolling over the bloodied stone, his electricity cutting through the flames, creating sizzling arcs of energy that whizzed past Lithas.

  This was a dance as old as time, a test of power, will, and skill. It had been some time since her last fight like this (the Tetrarchy did not leave much room for battles between Elevated in their planning) but her painstakingly acquired instincts were right there when she needed them.

  Lithas manipulated the heat around her into a vortex, the spiraling conflagration distorting the bolts of electricity away from her. Shifting her position, she lunged forward with a burst of speed, slashing at her opponent with a blade of concentrated heat. She would have had the man. But—in the last possible moment—a sudden volley of arrows forced her to abandon her attack to take cover behind the battlements.

  A brief glance revealed to her that the Lorathan had dodged her swing in the end. Barely. She could see that his clothes were singed from the near contact. With a final, powerful surge, Lithas rose, her eyes locked onto her enemy. Pure focus.

  He rose to meet her, preparing to drive her back as his body crackled with the fury of a storm. In the split second before he attacked, Lithas released the pent-up heat she had been holding, creating a blazing wall of fire that simply swallowed his incandescent bolts. She could see his eyes, wide open in surprise. But she did not give him a chance to recover. They had taught her better than that. In one swift, decisive motion, she flung a lance of concentrated heat, piercing his defenses.

  The man gasped, his body convulsing before he slumped to the ground, his chest a black pit of molten flesh. The surrounding fights seemed to pause momentarily, the soldiers taking in the sight—and smell—of the fallen Lorathan Elevated.

  Lithas stood, panting. She had just killed a god. In training, they had sparred. Constantly. They had fought to blood and bones. She remembered that. But never to the death. This felt different than dealing with a regular soldier. Empowering, somehow, yet also disturbing in ways she could not quite name. Her gaze lingered on the empty eyes that stared into the night sky.

  And then a figure stepped forward.

  A burly man, clad in boiled leather, crisscrossed with metal accents. As he approached, Demisian soldiers stumbled. Their crossbows misfired. Shouted orders were misunderstood, causing soldiers to run into each other. Pure mayhem. As she slipped on the blood-slick ground, Lithas cursed under her breath. She knew that man. Most Elevated did. Here was one reason why nobody had yet stomped war-mongering Loratha into the ground.

  Grave, the Chaos-Bringer. Or, as some called him, the Tetrarchy’s biggest mistake.

  The Lorathan Elevated focused his gaze on Lithas and a wicked grin split his face. Without a word, he launched himself at her. She gathered heat, preparing a counterattack. Yet, despite her best efforts, she found herself unable to predict or counter his attacks, his movements—again and again—seeming to defy logic and sense. Blows rained down on her. Each attack came from an unexpected direction, each of her dodges just led her into another attack. Grave seemed to enjoy himself. If the man had used a weapon, she likely would have been dead already.

  Lithas could not even form a clear thought. Slowly, achingly slowly, she began to realize that she was utterly outmatched here. Even her control over heat was frustratingly slippery, flickering like a flame in the wind. This was not good.

  Like a cruel punctuation to his relentless attacks, Grave’s laughter echoed around her. She could barely keep her footing now, much less launch a counterattack. Pain bloomed across her entire body as she took hit after hit, each attack hitting the precise location where it would cause the most agony. Her knees buckled, her vision swam. She knew it would not be long now before she fell. Grave’s grin widened as he saw her weaken.

  He readied himself to deliver the final blow. To end the game. Lithas looked up to his pulled back fist, could practically see how it would crush her skull.

  But before Grave could strike, the world exploded into action once more. The stone beneath her feet quaked and a monstrous sound rang out from beyond the city walls. Startled, they both turned just in time to see a blinding light emanate from the city gates.

  Gray-robed figures stood before the city’s entrance. Too many—had Loratha brought their entire corps with them? With a great heave of unseen forces, the gates were wrenched open. The city walls, that last bastion of Demis’ defense, began to crumble. As the dust cleared, the extent of the destruction became clear. An entire swath of the city walls lay in ruin, torn down with the gate as if by a god’s hand. Which had been the case, of course. A hysterical giggle escaped Lithas.

  Around her, panic rippled through the city’s defenders, but Lithas’ attention was swiftly dragged back to Grave, who was still mesmerized by the breaching of Demis’ walls. Seizing the momentary distraction, she managed to put some distance between her and Grave before the other Elevated returned his attention to her. Grabbing Kellen and Kael, she gasped out a single, ragged order, her voice a harsh echo in the madness, “Retreat!”

  Behind her, Demisian soldiers and Elevated alike struggled to regroup, their formations now in disarray under the surge of the Lorathan forces. Whether they realized it or not, the walls were lost. Better to regroup. Fight them street by street.

  Lithas navigated the tumultuous city streets, Kellen and Kael close at her heels. Their priority, and that of everyone surrounding them, had suddenly changed from resisting the invasion to survival. Fleeing the ruined walls, they wove their way deeper into the city. As they ran, Lithas could not shake the images of the debris they had passed around the broken walls. Pieces of rubble the size of buildings, appendages sticking out in macabre formations like a human forest, and a broken marble head, its gleaming blue sapphires still gazing out into the distance from above a chipped beak.