The Lingering Smoke

  “The only thing harder than losing a battle is knowing the moment you might have won it.”

  The air over the battlefield was a choking mix of dust and magic. After Prince Silvano departed to chase the Rhapsodian siege force, Captains Arion and Neero stood defiant, surrounded by the remnants of their Sunsteel command.

  Empusa, having tracked Silvano's frantic path, sneered. "The golden Prince runs for his mother's skirt. How pathetic."

  Arion, sweat and grime caking his face, ignored her, turning instead to the Sunsteel elites. "Darian, Helia! Gather twelve of the fittest fighters, mages, and healers. Follow the Prince, now!"

  Helia Crast, the heavy infantry elite, hesitated. "Captain, the line is strained here. We are needed to prevent a full rout."

  Neero’s dark eyes were resolute, focused on the castle's distant silhouette. "We will die with honor here, if necessary. But Silvano needs support if he is to hold or defend the castle. He has his hands full with the sheer number of soldiers Darkhorn and Zilla might have left behind." Neero gripped his crystal staff. "Go. He has the future of Melodia riding on his decisions; he cannot stand alone."

  Darian Vale, the shield bearer, clenched his jaw. He and Helia exchanged a look of pure dread at leaving their Captains, but duty outweighed loyalty to the immediate battle. They bowed low and sprinted to gather their small, essential squad.

  Empusa mocked them, her laugh sharp as shattered glass. "Do you think sending a few crumbs can withstand Darkhorn's power? You abandon your battle just to die in two places instead of one!"

  Yara Snowhart's voice was frigid. "You are outnumbered, Captains. You fight only to delay what we achieved hours ago. You cannot defend the capital nor the castle, even if your reserves make it there."

  Arion hefted his hammer, fire magic sparking off the metal. "Then we die here! We will not regret our decision, and we will not cede this field!"

  Neero nodded, his face calm. "A kingdom is made of its people, not its stone."

  With a final, desperate roar, Melodian and Rhapsodian forces clashed again, engulfing the two captains in a tidal wave of war.

  Silvano pushed his war-steed through the desert, the distant plume of smoke from the capital a constant, sick reminder of his delay.

  Just as the castle walls became visible, a group of dark, heavy figures rose from the sand dunes, blocking his path. Zilla had left a rear guard.

  "Well, well. Look what the tide dragged in," snarled the Rhapsodian leader, raising a jagged sword. "The golden pup is late for the party. Zilla said to hold you up, pretty boy."

  Silvano drew his rapier, the golden light of his Sunsteel Paladin magic flaring around him. He was one against twenty, and he fought with the frantic desperation of a man who had already lost everything.

  Suddenly, the soldier who had clashed with him staggered back, a thick-shafted arrow jutting from his eye socket.

  Silvano spun, rapier raised, and saw Darian, Helia, and their small contingency of Sunsteel, Moonveil, and Starcrest troops cresting the dune. Lynne Arloth, the long-range archer, lowered her bow.

  "My Prince!" Darian rumbled, planting his shield to cover Silvano. "We are here. Now we fight our way through!"

  Helia and the gathered troops—a mix of healers, two mages, and heavy fighters—formed a tight, disciplined wedge.

  Lynne shouted to healers, "Cast your fast healing magic to Prince Silvano!"

  Silvano, fueled by a surge of relief and urgency, led the push. They fought their way through Zilla’s remaining ambushes until they stood on the final crest, witnessing the terrifying sight of the Rhapsodian banner flying above the outer walls.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Back at the main battlefield, Arion and Neero were facing an impossible situation. The tide of Rhapsodian soldiers was overwhelming; the Melodian line was folding inward.

  "Moonveil is at two-thirds strength!" Neero gasped, throwing up a desperate shield of crystal shards against Yara's storm of ice. "We cannot hold the line, Arion!"

  Arion slammed his hammer down, taking out four soldiers. "We hold until the last man, Neero!"

  Serise of Moonveil tried to cast a multi-healing magic, but she failed; she was out of mana to cast anymore.

  Just as a Rhapsodian charge was poised to break the center, a flash of brilliant, warm light erupted on the western flank—an area where Melodia had no reserves.

  Priest Kalen Crisque, a girl with rose-pink hair, clad in ornate black vestments embroidered with gold-threaded sigils of forbidden rites, cast a powerful, multi-target healing spell.

  "Virellum Surge!" A wave of golden energy washed over the Melodian wounded, stitching flesh and invigorating tired legs.

  "Halt, minions of Rhapsodia!" boomed the voice of Monk Miren Crisque. Short rose-pink hair, saffron robes, her hands raised in a mudra that pulsed with blinding golden force. "Aurum Exsolara!" She unleashed a blast of pure light and force that scattered the Rhapsodian front line like rag dolls.

  Then, a mysterious Ranger, his face hidden by a wood-textured hood, released a massive arrow shower that decimated Yara's vulnerable mage cohort.

  And a hundred unexpected warriors wearing masks surged forward, driving the Rhapsodian flank back.

  Yara and Empusa were shocked.

  "Reinforcements? Where did they come from?" Empusa hissed, whip momentarily still. "That healing magic is too potent for this region!"

  Rina, in awe, whispered, "The spirits didn’t forsake us..."

  "Who are they?" Jax questioned in confusion.

  Neero stared, momentarily forgetting the battle. "Kalen and Miren Crisque! The Symphonia twins! They are acquaintances of Prince Silvano from his diplomatic missions. But why are they here?"

  The tide had changed. The battlefield was Melodia's again.

  Yara, ever pragmatic, raised her voice. "We have gained the information and held the main army long enough. The castle is taken. We retreat!"

  Empusa, frustrated, signaled her retreat. They left the battle to their elites—Caligro and Vana—and slipped away into the smoke.

  Silvano's squad fought their way through the outer castle gate, wading through the bodies of the fallen garrison and the Harmonia aid. As they approached the inner courtyard, a colossal, furious figure blocked their path.

  "The golden whelp is here!" Zilla roared, his massive axe glistening. He was bleeding slightly from a minor wound received earlier, fueling his rage. "You are too late, Captain! I'll take your head now for Premier Katharina!"

  Silvano met Zilla's charge. Axe vs. rapier. Silvano was faster, his rapier dancing around the heavy axe, using the lessons of his paladin training to evade and deflect.

  "You abandon your men!" Silvano cried, driving a quick thrust that sliced Zilla's thigh.

  "Your mother might be dead by now, fool!" Zilla howled, trying to bring the great axe down on Silvano's head.

  The duel was a storm of speed and brutality, finesse clashing with raw power. Silvano moved like a silver streak, each thrust a whisper of death that grazed closer and closer to Zilla’s throat. Sparks scattered every time his elegant blade deflected the savage weight of his swings. Bit by bit, he drove him back across the shattered ground, footwork flawless, expression cold with focus.

  "I will save my mother, but I will kill you first!" Silvano shouted.

  Zilla’s breaths grew ragged, his stance faltering as he fought to hold the line, the haft of his axe trembling under each precise strike. And though he snarled and pushed forward with all the fury he could muster, the truth was undeniable.

  Silvano was winning, and Zilla found himself forced into a desperate retreat, step by step, toward the battlefield’s edge.

  Inside the silent, ravaged main keep, General Darkhorn strode toward the Queen’s chambers, his greatsword scraping the marble floor.

  He reached the threshold of the Queen’s chamber.

  Within his shadow, a figure appeared, stepping out of the absolute dark as easily as exiting a room. It was Shade, wearing Heathcliff’s face and frame, looking immaculately untouched by the chaos.

  "So, you have finished the mission, Darkhorn," Shade said, his voice silky, almost bored.

  Darkhorn stood steady, fist to chest, his voice cold. "My Lord. Yara and Empusa handle the Pitch Capital, the outer castle is secured. The Queen is within. Zilla is neutralizing any counterattack."

  "Very well. You truly are capable." Shade offered that unnervingly slow, elegant smile. He looked toward the chamber door where Queen Ismaire awaited her fate. "But I let you handle the Queen. I will just... watch from the shadow."

  Shade dissolved back into the deepest shadows of the corridor, his presence a chilling promise. Darkhorn, despite his power, remained standing—a loyal weapon who would now enter the Queen’s chamber.

  Silvano's forces were winning or holding their ground...

  But is he still too late to save the Queen?

  Arion and Neero choosing to stand. Silvano fighting like a man racing against fate. The unexpected arrival of the Symphonia twins. And Zilla’s rage finally colliding with Silvano’s desperation.

  where every decision has a cost,

  and every delay echoes through the battlefield.

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