Chapter 25: Allies at the Gate

The mountains of Caelrhime loomed just beyond the horizon. War had already begun to carve fresh scars into the land.

Raye, Caelan, Kael, and the combined soldiers of Aeldenmarch and Ember stood atop a frostbitten ridge, their breath misting in the morning air. The distant sound of war was no longer distant.

They could hear the horns.

Not alarms.

War cries.

The sound of siege — wood shattering, magic booming, steel ringing.

Caelrhime was under attack.

“It’s begun,” Caelan said, his voice rising over the wind. “We ride south .”

He pointed sharply toward the southern gate. From here, the eastern wall was already engulfed in black smoke and flashes of red. Siege weapons had reached the gates. Fire clawed at the stone, and figures moved like ants across the frozen battlefield.

Caelan turned back to his riders.

“We hold the southern flank. We raise our banner there. That passage becomes our lifeline — our way in, and our way out.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He kicked his steed into motion, cape whipping behind him. The rest followed — hooves thundering through the snow.

And then…

They saw it.

The walls of Caelrhime — vast, formidable, now cracked and burning.

The enemy had already broken through in places. Their black-armoured ranks poured like oil through shattered gates, while siege rams hammered still at the fractured stone.

A smaller detachment had splintered off — slipping toward the southern flank.

But before they reached the passage…

They felt it.

A rhythm in the wind.

The pulse of hoofbeats… and something more. Like thunder trapped in a storm. The very air trembled.

Raye narrowed his eyes.

“Now,” Caelan said, raising his blade.

“Leave none.”

They surged forward — a bladed wind descending from the highlands.

Raye was the first to strike.

He launched from the saddle like a flame let loose, his sword carving through the first enemy before the man could raise a shield. Another fell. Then another. His fire danced — not literal, but in the weight of each strike.

Kael was beside him a heartbeat later — his sword rising and falling like a hammer of judgment.

The southern force reeled under the sudden assault. Some tried to retreat — they didn’t get far.

Raye dismounted as the last line approached, landing with a roll that melted into a fluid strike. His blade gleamed red, dripping with steel and resolve. The others followed — foot soldiers from Ember and Aeldenmarch crashing into the fray, cutting down the remaining flankers before they could regroup.

But more were coming.

A second wave — larger, better armed — moved in the distance. They hadn't spotted Raye’s force yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Raye turned toward Caelan.

“Your Majesty,” he said, voice steady through the breathless air, “Let us — the pride of the Fire Kingdom — hold this flank. We’ll handle the siege push. You and your men must go now. Get to the city.”

Caelan hesitated.

It was risky.

It was reckless.

But it was also their best chance.

He looked into Raye’s eyes — and saw the fire still burning there. Not just for vengeance. But for duty.

“…Very well,” Caelan said, nodding once.

He turned to his men.

“Soldiers of Aeldenmarch! With me! We ride for Caelrhime’s walls!”

As they prepared to charge forward, Caelan paused.

He looked back to Raye and Kael — standing in the snow, blades ready, backs to the wind.

“Return to us alive,” Caelan said.

A brief silence.

Then Raye replied with calm certainty, “We will, Your Majesty.”

And Caelan rode.

Toward the shattered walls. Toward the fire. Toward a kingdom that still held — barely — against the shadow clawing at its gates.

Raye turned back to the field.

The second wave was almost upon them.

“Men,” Raye called out, his voice cutting through the cold, “raise your blades once more — for those who fell before us. For every soul taken by this war.”

His sword sang as he unsheathed it, the steel gleaming beneath the clouded sun.

“Show no mercy.”

Around him, the warriors of the Fire Kingdom and Ember Guard rallied, fire burning in their hearts despite the frost beneath their feet.

Below the ridge, the enemy had spotted them — too late.

They charged.

Steel met flesh in a sudden roar. The clash was quick, brutal, and precise. Raye and his warriors carved through the flanking force with clinical precision. Not a single enemy escaped. Not a single warning cry rose.

Only silence remained — broken only by the snow crunching beneath their boots.

Raye stepped over a fallen body, scanning the battlefield ahead.

“They brought mages this time,” he said darkly. “Soldiers from foreign banners too. This is no longer just the Empire. This is a war born of fear... and greed.”

Kael stood beside him, eyes narrowing. “Then we don’t just face numbers. We face unity — the wrong kind.”

Raye nodded once.

“Then we’ll be the knife in their side. No grand charge. We move like shadows. Hit fast. Kill faster. No witnesses.”

The unit remounted, their steeds restless beneath them, and surged forward through the broken paths of snow.

Beyond the smoke, a detached pack of enemy soldiers stood in formation — not part of the main force, but stationed to the side. A reserve, perhaps. Or an ambush waiting to spring.

“We clear that pack,” Raye ordered. “Quick. Quiet.”

They struck like lightning — a sudden storm that tore through the enemy’s flank before they could cry out. Within minutes, it was over. Not one survived to raise an alarm.

Meanwhile…

Within Caelrhime’s battered walls, Caelan and the knights of Aeldenmarch had breached the southern quarter. The stone streets, once slick with frost, were now darkened by blood and smoke. Buildings crumbled, and the cries of battle echoed from every corner.

At the south-eastern district, a brutal skirmish still raged — Caelrhime’s defenders holding the line, barely.

“Push forward!” Caelan commanded. “Shield the wounded. Secure this street!”

The soldiers of Aeldenmarch swept in — blades drawn, banners flying. The enemy didn’t expect reinforcements from within the walls, and the momentum turned instantly.

Steel clashed.

Enemy lines broke.

And as the last of the invaders in that district fell, silence returned — heavy, panting, blood-soaked.

From the shadows, several Caelrhime fighters emerged — cloaked in ash and snow, blades still slick with blood.

One of them, a young man with a gash across his brow, pointed his weapon at Caelan.

“Who are you?” he demanded, voice rough and laced with mistrust. “Another trick? Are you enemy or ally?”

Caelan didn’t raise his weapon. He stepped forward calmly, unfazed.

“We are your allies,” he said. “We come from Aeldenmarch. We are here to help.”

The Caelrhime fighters hesitated.

Then one among them — a sharp-eyed soldier with a weathered fur collar — stepped forward.

“Are you here… on Lady Aurette’s request?” the man asked.

Caelan nodded. “Yes. My name is Caelan V. Eirwyn.”

He reached inside his cloak and handed over a weather-worn letter, the wax seal of Caelrhime still clinging faintly to its edge.

The soldier’s eyes widened slightly.

“I am Ilan,” he said. “Come. I will take you to her.”

Back on the battlefield, Raye stood over the last body of the broken formation, his blade still dripping.

He turned toward Kael.

“Take command of the remaining men,” he said. “Reinforce the flanks. Our enemy might notice our plan soon — So, hold that line.”

Kael frowned. “And what of you?”

“I’m going deeper,” Raye said. “The siege engines — if I can destroy them, we shift the entire battle. They can’t breach what they can’t reach.”

“That’s suicide, my lord,” Kael replied. “You’ll be alone.”

“I’ll be quick,” Raye said, a thin smile tugging at his lips. “I won’t waste time on pointless duels. I strike, then vanish.”

Kael exhaled. “Then take support. You’re not going alone.”

He turned to two nearby soldiers — hardened, battle-scarred, and loyal.

“Ardin. Vess. Go with him.”

The two men didn’t hesitate. They stepped forward without a word.

Raye looked between them.

“Will you follow me into the mouth of the enemy?” he asked, voice calm.

Ardin answered with a nod. “Wherever you lead.”

Vess added, “We’ll cut their heart out and be back before sunset.”

Raye mounted his horse, the others doing the same.

Kael turned back toward the ridge, already rallying the remaining forces.

“Good luck, my friend,” he muttered.

And with that — Raye, Ardin, and Vess rode, vanishing into the smoke and snow… toward the engines of war.