The western cliffs of Laginaple had turned into a battlefield of raw elements and scorched land. Lightning tore through the skies like a god's furious handwriting, illuminating the terrain littered with broken Falzath constructs, shattered pikes, and the smoldering remains of black banners. The earth trembled beneath the storm, cracked and pulsing with residual magic from the Falzath ward that had held the region hostage for years. Its presence was a blight, a dark lattice of corruption infused into the soil, sky, and hearts of the people who once called this land home.
And now, it was time to break it.
Laverna stood at the edge of the ridge, her jamadhars gleaming with lightning as arcs of blue and violet danced along their blood-slick curves. Rain ran down her face, mixing with the dirt and ash, revealing the burning fire in her amber eyes. Her tiger eye necklace pulsed brightly, almost humming, its resonance synced with her heartbeat and the crashing thunder above.
Beside her loomed Olga, beastwoman and juggernaut, arms thick as boulders and bloodied from hours of carnage. Magic crackled around her knuckles, wrapping her fists in radiant gauntlets of ether and primal force.
"Ready, fox?" Olga asked, shaking her arms and cracking her neck. Her braided hair was soaked, but her grin carved through the storm like a blade.
Laverna rolled her shoulders, gripping her weapons tight. "Let's see how Falzath wards handle a little storm of our own."
They advanced without hesitation.
The ward tower pulsed at the heart of the cliff's basin, a twisted monolith of bone and stone, webbed with corrupted sigils and writhing tendrils of Falzath growth. Beneath it, enslaved spirits screamed in silence, trapped by a lattice of runes fed by suffering and time. The closer they moved, the louder the silence grew, until it pressed against their ears like a vice. Time itself seemed to hesitate here, waiting for a verdict.
As they neared the base, the air thickened. Every breath tasted like rust and sorrow. But Laverna's stride never faltered. Her jamadhars lit up in response, remembering the scent of blood, the rhythm of battle, the duty to protect.
Olga punched forward, the air cracking as her magic-charged fist shattered the first defensive glyph. Sparks exploded outward, tearing through the air in waves. Each ripple was a cry of resistance from the ward, fighting to remain intact.
The ward roared in response, lashing out with tendrils of shadow that slithered toward them. Laverna leapt into motion, her body a blur of grace and fury. She dodged the strikes, rolling between them, carving through shadow with precise slashes. Her jamadhars thrummed with the storm, every strike leaving trails of light that seared against the ward's surface.
A fissure cracked along the ward's base, spiderwebbing outward like a dying heartbeat.
"Keep going!" Olga shouted, slamming her fist into the core matrix. Another glyph shattered with a brilliant explosion of white light, the force knocking loose the topmost layer of wardstone.
The ward screamed again, louder now, more desperate. Its pulse quickened. Its shadows grew frenzied.
And then it struck back.
A pulse of dark magic erupted outward, knocking Olga back with brute force. She skidded across the mud, carving a trench with her back. The earth buckled under the backlash. But before the ward could lash out again, Laverna stepped into the storm.
She raised her necklace.
The tiger eye jewel flared, casting a golden shimmer that cut through the chaos. Her Crest of Elders pulsed in tandem, glowing brightly on her skin. Both relic and body responded to her vow.
"No more cages," she whispered. "No more kings. No more pain."
With a feral scream, she surged forward.
Laverna struck the ward with everything she had. Her jamadhars blazed, lightning and fire intertwined as her strikes carved into the heart of the monolith. Each blow echoed with a memory: her first night free. Shin's hand reaching out. The faces of her fallen. The faces of those she'd protect. The torture she endured. The children she'd seen broken. The freedom she refused to surrender.
And then she remembered Mariam.
The woman who tried to twist her. Break her. Brand her with a crest of despair.
She would not let Shin become the same.
She would not lose him to the Crest of Elders.
"You will not have him!"
Her final strike landed, the jamadhars plunging into the center of the ward. The stone cracked. Magic exploded outward in a blinding wave.
The ward fractured.
Then it collapsed, howling as it died.
The chains of spirit-song that held the region broke with a sound like a million sighs set free. The air cleared. The rain lightened. The corrupted soil began to breathe again. Grass shimmered as if waking from a nightmare. The trees on the ridge stood taller.
Olga sat up with a groan, eyes wide. "You crazy fox... you did it."
Laverna dropped to her knees, breathing hard. Her necklace dimmed, but her Crest continued to glow. Her body ached, but she smiled.
Because she knew what she'd fight for.
She stood, slow and steady. Mira approached from behind, rifle slung across her shoulder. Her silver hair clung to her skin, rain tracing down her cheek.
"The Renegades saw that," she said. "They're pulling back. Whatever hold the ward had, it's broken."
Laverna nodded. She turned to the fleeing shapes of Falzath and traitor forces disappearing into the mist.
They would run today.
But not forever.
The western front was theirs.
She turned her gaze northward, toward the rising mountain roads that led to the capital.
Shin stood there. Somewhere.
Fighting a battle she feared would steal him.
She clenched her fists. Her necklace throbbed again, responding to her silent vow. Her jamadhars sparked even at rest, as if urging her forward.
She would reach him.
She would save him from the Crest.
Even if it meant burning through heaven and hell. Even if it meant confronting her own fears, her own trauma, every wound she'd buried and every nightmare she'd survived. She was more than a slave. More than a servant.
She was Laverna.
And this was her vow.
She looked to Mira and Olga, her voice steady. "Let's move. There's still a king left to unmake."
And together, they disappeared into the rising dawn, steps echoing with fury and faith.
The storm was not over.
It had only just begun.