Chapter 50

Calen

The acrid scent of sulfur hangs heavy in the air, biting at the back of my throat with each breath. The harsh, choking smell permeates my surroundings and mixes with the metallic tang of blood while the suffocating heat of Daenia’s afternoon sun clings to my body.

The battle rages on, but all I can focus on is that bitter smell and dread’s mantle enshrouding the battlefield. Urgency floods my veins as my sole focus becomes survival.

We’re making our way towards the heart of the city, but each step is harder than the last. We arrived spent, only to find obstacle after obstacle as destroyed bridges prevented us from crossing canals. Daenia makes for the most impractical battlefield, with its narrow passageways, arches around every corner, and civilians running through the streets to escape the massacre.

I hammer my sword down on a soldier’s neck while fending off another attack with my shorter blade. The street can’t fit more than five soldiers at a time, so I make my way to the front of the line to make a dent in their defense.

Screams and cries fill my ears, but I’ve known too many battlefields to let them get to me anymore.

Block. Slice. Counter. Lunge. Another body falls at my feet.

Any chance I get, I scan the mass of soldiers around us, searching for the rest of our army and Azran.

A growl tears from my throat when a soldier’s blade cuts my forearm. Spinning, I plunge my short blade through his chin. A pair of soldiers wearing emerald take position in front of me, their uniforms already tinted crimson.

Lunging at me together, they force me back a step to parry. I lose balance as I hit another soldier in my back, and clench my teeth in anticipation.

A blade digs through my thigh as I recover from the tumble, raising my weapon too late.

A soldier jumps in front of me, engaging the pair, and I don’t need to look twice to know their lives just got cut short.

Bright light shines on my left, and I’m thrown to the ground again by a deafening explosion.

My ears are ringing and dark smoke twirls all around me, filling my lungs and throat.

Movement appears in the corner of my eyes and the ringing quietens, giving way to piercing screams and blades clashing.

I roll over with a groan, having landed on my injured leg, and scrape the ground near me for my weapon.

My greatest failure resurrected; Airdan has again deployed his explosive powder. That sadist destined for the fiery pits of hell corrupts the rules of war.

I climb to my knees to search through the dust. I have mere seconds before the smoke clears and soldiers rain down on us once more. My fingers find purchase on something hard, and I grip on instinct.

I let go a moment later with a scream, my palm scorched by heated metal. A gust of wind hits my face, carrying the scent of death and clearing the smoke.

Emerald armor emerges from the darkness as soldiers step towards me, and I catch a glimpse of my sword a few feet away.

Sounds return in full force, shouts and orders barked as more soldiers regain their feet.

Without thinking, I lunge towards my sword, relying on my injured leg to hold as I reach for my weapon. A blade misses my neck by an inch as I leap to my feet, sword in hand, ready to impale the next bastard crazy enough to take me on. The hilt digs into my injured palm, but letting go again is not an option.

A form dives into the group of enemies and Airdan’s soldiers start falling to the ground, one after another. Fiery red locks tumble in unrestrained strands as a fighter swings their blade.

Moments later, Vesta stands alone among the bodies, blood coating her hair and face. A fatal beauty.

“Cal.”

She’s by my side in an instant and we finish off the squadron that cornered us in this street. When the last body touches the soiled paving stones, we lock eyes.

If emerald is to be the last thing I see when I die, then let it be her eyes, looking back into my soul, with her guard down and her love within reach.

I cross the distance between us, reaching for her as she reaches back. Pulling her to me, I rest my forehead against hers, letting the tips of our noses touch.

“I kept my promise,” I whisper.

Her hand goes to the side of my face, her gentle touch emboldening me.

“I know you’re scared, but I hope you’ll come to see one day that my love is no cage.”

With knitted brows, her teeth seize her lips between them before releasing the reddened flesh. My heart is beating out of my chest as her glistening eyes dart to the ground before locking with mine.

The sounds of the battlefield disappear, engulfed in her silence as I wait.

“I love you.”

The words leave her trembling lips as no more than a whisper, but my chest expands tenfold, unable to contain the rush of bliss coursing through my veins.

Her features remain frozen in a mask of angst as tears prickle in her beryl eyes and an irrepressible grin claims my mouth.

My lungs strain against my ribcage, near to bursting as I feel whole for the first time in my life. Her protective walls have crumbled, revealing what I always knew.

The first salty droplet rolls on her ash-coated cheek and her lips curve into a tentative smile before joy unfurls it wider, lighting up her face. Our shared future stretches out before us, limitless, illuminated solely by the radiant flare of her growing smile.

“I—“

“Forward, you bastards!”

Wyn’s order fills the air as he runs past us like a madman, his scarred face a mask of rage.

Vesta pulls back as soldiers rise to their feet and follow him. We exchange a glance full of promises before focusing on our squadrons.

“Forward,” I echo Wyn’s call, my heart still pounding with the force of her words piercing my soul.

Savage screams resonate all around us as our soldiers push on, chasing after emerald enemies.

We’re about to turn a corner when I signal the units behind me to slow. Another battle is raging ahead.

I turn back to face our soldiers, looking each one in the eyes.

Signing with my hands, I gesture for some of my men to join our forces already in battle and command the rest to cross the street.

“We encircle them.”

Seeing their nods, I raise my right hand, ready to launch our attack.

“Pull back!” A soldier’s scream reaches my ears a moment before I give the signal. “Pull back!”

I peer around the corner and see our soldiers running towards me. A moment later, the street is engulfed in a ball of fire and the ground shakes beneath my feet as smoke and projectiles scatter.

A warm gust of wind follows, and the echo from the blast sets me in motion. Reaching for the first soldier I find, I help them to their feet before pushing forward.

I dispatch enemies and look for survivors, joining what’s left of the unit caught in the blast. Vesta follows close behind, to the end of the destroyed street.

We know what to look for; most have seen the dark powder before, but it won’t be enough to prevent more bloodshed.

We haven’t reached the central plaza yet, and we’ve lost so many already. An impending sense of doom grows in my heart, but I push it back when we join Wyn’s units at the next crossroad.

Airdan’s soldiers are ruthless in their disregard for civilians, slicing and killing anyone within their reach.

I engage another group of fighters, my arm tiring under the relentless assaults, my chest heaving from effort.

When the body of a woman falls at my feet, a pool of blood down her middle, my vocal cords strain, a guttural roar clawing free. These wretched souls hold nothing sacred in life.

Scattered body parts line the charred paving stones. With each step I take, each enemy I slay, I stumble upon another massacre.

With each rasping inhalation, smoke and dust climb deeper into my lungs, but we can’t relent now.

Another scream of rage tears through me when I lose sight of Vesta behind enemy lines.

“Vesta,” I shout, hoping my voice will carry over the sound of steel clashing.

I elbow a soldier’s face and spin as I slice through a mass of bodies.

“Vesta!” I call again, trying to discern her voice in the chaos, but come up empty until a bestial growl responds.

Several emerald fighters slow to look around, and a grin blooms on my blood-covered face. It’s about damn time.

I spot his two-bladed sword before his red eyes land on me, and Azran pounces on the soldiers, tearing through them like a wild animal.

Soldiers around me rush towards the enemy, victorious screams bursting from their lungs as they slice through emerald armor relentlessly.

The effect Az has on his fighters has always been beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Admiration, pride, and pure devotion shine in their eyes. Although he doesn’t see it, or never allows himself to, they will go to the ends of this earth for him and our cause. There lies the power in fighting for equality and justice.

A familiar voice rings out above the madness and Vesta emerges from the mass of fighters, shouting orders to soldiers around her. Pride and relief swell in my heart.

We manage to push the mass of soldiers back and take another street when we finally catch a break. Airdan’s soldiers are scattering through the city.

Relieved, I turn, looking for that crazy, red-eyed bastard.

“You’re late,” Az drawls behind me. His short hair is coated in blood, the crimson liquid dripping down his temple, and his wrathful gaze fixes on me.

“So are you.”

The corner of my mouth lifts, but his remains pinched in a tight line, his jaw clenched. The prince of bloodshed eyes me, assessing the damage to my body.

Boots hitting the ground echo around us and my heart sinks. Our reprieve will be short lived.

“You look terrible.”

A flicker shines in Az’s crimson eyes as a small smile tugs his lips.

“I know,” I answer with a wink, before looking around. “Ela?”

Az turns in the direction of enemy soldiers, the sound of their footsteps growing closer by the second, but doesn’t answer.

“In formation,” I command.

Our fighters take position but Azran remains still, his blade lowered.

At least two dozen soldiers in emerald armor storm onto the street, savage bellows erupting from their mouths.

“General.” Wyn comes to my side, eagerly waiting for the order.

“Hold.” I raise my first, my senses on high alert as I squint at the enemy.

Their screams are no battle cries. The soldiers are fleeing, their weapons hanging loosely in their hands. One of them looks over their shoulder and trips, going down with a cry.

The back of the column is engulfed in shadows, and some of the cries die down until the sound of metal hitting metal fills the air. Ela emerges from the darkness, leaving a trail of bodies behind her.

I glance at Azran, but he only has eyes for his mate, pride shining in his crimson irises. The corners of his mouth lift into a tender smile as Ela tears through another soldier.

I repress a chuckle. Made for each other doesn’t begin to describe them. They were cut from the same mold.

Darkness seeps out of Ela once more, sucking the life from the soldiers around her until a dark fire engulfs five of them. Their cries die in the flames as they’re called back to the void that awaits us all.

Ela unleashes another gust of fire on a group of soldiers, burning them to a crisp before our eyes, and a knot forms in my throat.

I lower my hand and Wyn charges ahead with his unit to join Ela. But in the time it takes them to close the distance, the last of Airdan’s soldiers lie dead.

Ela emerges from the mass of charred corpses, a deadly resolve in her dark eyes, like a vision of hell.

The acidic smell of sulfur burns my nostrils still, seeping into my clothing and stinging my eyes.

There is no escaping it, that pungent stench of burned powder that signifies death. It overwhelms the senses, adding to the chaos and carnage of the battlefield. And in that moment, I know I will never forget that scent. It will haunt me until my last breath. Like a ghost, it will linger long after the sounds of war have faded. If they ever do.