Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

Alexandru

T he fortress gates groan open, a herald to the icy winds that nip at my skin as my officers, Ivan, Henry, Nicolai, and Marianne, ride out together. I tighten my grip on the reins, urging my powerful steed forward into the barren winter landscape. Snow blankets the earth, a pristine veil disturbed only by the rhythm of our horses' hooves crunching the frozen ground beneath.

I left Eleanna behind. She needs more combat training and I'm not about to put someone out into a fight who isn't going to pass my base line standards.

Oh, she's good, better than good. And she could, if it came down to it, hold her own. But if it came down to it is something I'm keen to avoid. She's a queen not an actual warrior and if we're both out fighting, I don't want to worry about her.

I sigh. What the fuck am I thinking? I'd still protect her. But Eleanna who is better prepared, has real skills means it's not a suicide mission on my part.

She didn't argue as I suspected and only told me to be careful. Of course, there was no kiss or tears. Not that I expected those, but the ice was a nice touch.

Where people should be, emptiness and desolation rules. The fighting hasn't reached here but people have gone underground or thrown in with the fortress. Still, where even in winter the lands would be worked and alive were now abandoned.

"Fuck Catarina and her deceitfulness," Ivan snarls from beside me, his breath a cloud of vapor in the frigid air.

"The promised fighters?" I ask.

Henry curses under his breath. "Some can't get out, I'll wager."

"Others are going to be needed." Nicolai's jaw sets hard.

Marianne's eyes burn with the fire of bloodshed to come. "But those who can will join. I know it."

Those who can. Those who still live, she means.

"Catarina's blood will garnish the snow before the moon wanes," I vow, the words laced with ice and fury.

Yet even as I speak of war, Eleanna's scornful dismissal echoes in my mind, her cruel laughter a specter haunting me after we fucked last night. Did my claim I once had over her heart, her very being, drive her further into the shadows? Had. Have. It's something I need to admit. I might still love her. Or the her she once was and could be again, before her father's poison sank deep.

And before that exchange the sex was…. Perfect. My heart aches at the memory, but somehow, I push it from my mind and concentrate on our immediate mission.

A rustle from the forest edge snatches my attention. A lone figure emerges, his gait measured, deliberate. Dante. His chestnut curls are wild against his pale face, brown eyes intense with purpose. Clad in simple garb that does nothing to betray his allegiance to the castle, he halts us with an upraised hand.

"General Amanar. I'll cut to the chase." Dante addresses me, his posture rigid. "Catarina's reign is poison. I've seen its effects, felt its cruel grip... and through it all, I've unearthed where she hides her vulnerability."

"Speak, then," I command. "Reveal this chink in her armor."

"It's her heart... not in the poetic sense, but quite literally. Hidden within the depths of her fortress, Catarina safeguards a talisman—a heart, bound by dark magic. It's the source of her power, her life force tethered to this realm by the sorcery it's imbued with that makes her invulnerable," Dante says, trepidation, fear, and a glimmer of defiance sparks in his gaze, tempered by a shadow of unease at the mention of such dark magic.

The gravity of Dante's revelation weighs heavily on me, casting a pall over the sunlit snow. A talisman, a heart bound by black magic, hidden away as the cornerstone of Catarina's might. The audacity of such sorcery sends a chill through my bones, not for its invocation but what it means for our struggle.

This heart, an artifact of such power, explains the resilience and tyranny of Catarina's reign. To think her life force, her dominion over us, is shackled to something so tangible yet so profoundly protected—it's both a vulnerability and a formidable obstacle. The path to it will undoubtedly be risky, guarded by physical defenses along with enchantments shadowy and ancient.

I rub my chin as a plan begins to form, its shape vague, driven by the newly acquired knowledge of Catarina's Achilles' heel. To seize this heart would be to control her, to bring the tyrant to her knees. Yet, such as the journey is filled with uncertainties, an exhibit of the cunning and malice that's allowed her to reign without being harmed.

Our victory, our very fate, hinges on a remnant of dark magic hidden within Eleanna's former home. It stirs dread in me. The path to freedom from Catarina's evil grasp will be costly and perilous.

Ivan looks at me. "General?"

"Could give us the opening we need," I say, still considering the possibilities. "If what Dante says is true."

"It is," Dante says.

"Traitor!" Marianne spits. "Why should we trust the words of a rat fleeing his sinking ship?"

"Because I have nothing left to lose," Dante says, his tone edged with desperation. "I only seek to support General Amanar. I swear my alliance to you and only you, my lord."

Ivan, Henry, and Nicolai shift uneasily, their distrust evident.

Thing is, I never fully trust anyone unless it's earned and information is what we're out here for mainly. And fact finding, even rumors or traps, I need them all to pick and pull at threads.

If what Dante says is true, his information could change the course of this cursed war. Too many villages and towns have fallen. Too many have died.

The risk claws at my insides, but the reward—victory and Eleanna's return to her throne—demands I stake everything on this gambit.

"Join us at the stronghold when you're ready," I say in a tone that brooks no argument. "Until then, return to her and be our eyes within the serpent's nest."

Dante nods with a grim set to his mouth. "I shall, General Amanar. But tread carefully. The snake is coiled tight around her dark heart."

My thoughts are a tumultuous whirlpool, Eleanna's face flashing within the churning waters. Her cruel dismissal still stings, but my claim over her is not merely born of passion—it's a declaration of war against those who threaten what is mine.

"Back to the fortress!" I order. "We regroup, we gather those who can still come, we plan, and then we strike with the ferocity of winter's harshest gale."

A sudden rush of shadowy figures materialize from the white forest veil. Catarina's vampire troops, vicious and unrelenting.

"Damn it, Dante!" Ivan glares at the man as our horses rear in panic.

"I swear by the moon, I did not lead them here!" Dante says, his form blurring into the forest with preternatural speed, vanishing from sight.

"Off the horses!" I dismount with practiced ease.

My animal whinnies, its breath frosting the air as steel meets my grip. My sword is an extension of my will, a conduit for the rage boiling in my blood.

Ivan, Henry, Nicolai, and Marianne follow suit, their weapons gleaming in the bright sunlight as we stand shoulder to shoulder.

"Come then, you bastards!" Henry yells, rushing forward to battle with the first wave of assailants.

"Die!" Marianne's blade sings a malevolent tune as it arcs through the frigid air.

"Face us, if you dare, you assholes!" Nicolai says, his sword a blur of death.

Blood sprays across the snow, spattering grotesque patterns in red. The toll of metal echoes through the air, accompanied by the guttural noises of vampires engaged in battle.

Catarina's forces lunge at us with supernatural speed and strength, their fangs bared and eyes glinting with hunger. We meet their onslaught with unwavering resolve, our movements fluid and precise as we fight back against the relentless rush of foes.

Ivan's sword cleaves through vampire flesh with a sickening squelch. His movements are swift, his strikes calculated and merciless. I behead a vampire who's coming up behind him and his slight nod's his only acknowledgement.

I swathe a path as Henry swings his axe in wide arcs, each blow delivered with bone-crushing force. He moves like a whirlwind of destruction, his battle cries mingling with the clank of steel.

I look to see who needs me. Nicolai battles the undead with controlled aggression, his blade moving viper-fast as he takes down his enemies. His movements are careful yet deadly, each strike finding its mark.

Marianne moves like a shadow on the battlefield, her rapier darting in and out of eyes, chests, ears. Her strikes are vicious and precise, each thrust aiming at vital spots on her opponents' bodies.

I dive into the center, taking down as many as I can with lethal blows.

The snow around us turns vermilion with spilled blood, the metallic scent heavy in the air. The sounds of battle fill my ears—steel meeting steel, cries of pain and fury filling the air in a din of violence.

We fight side by side, falling into our new battle pattern, and a sense of camaraderie builds between us despite the pandemonium. Our movements synchronize as if guided by an unseen force, each of us playing our part in this brutal combat.

Catarina's vampires press on relentlessly, their numbers seemingly endless.

"Your blood will freeze before it spills," I taunt an advancing vampire enemy with a low growl.

"General Amanar, watch out!" Ivan's warning comes just in time as a rogue vampire lunges at me from my left.

I spin, bringing my sword down in a sweeping motion that spears through flesh and bone. The creature's head falls, body crumpling into the blood-discolored snow.

"Fall, you fiends!" The battle fury courses through me like an unstoppable force.

We are death incarnate, the harbingers of Catarina's downfall. And though the day may be long and full of unforeseeable dangers, we will emerge victorious or not at all.

I intend to be victorious.

I parry a strike, countering with a vicious thrust that spills my opponent's intestines onto the bloodied ground.

"For the realms and our very existence!" Henry's voice is filled with rage and determination as he slices another enemy in two.

The battle ebbs and flows like a river of blood and teeth, our enemy's line faltering at our onslaught. Shades of red and black adorn the world around us—blood drips from our swords' edges, staining our fingers and armor as we wade through the carnage. The air is thick with the acrid scent of death and blood acrid scent of burnt flesh, and a horrific symphony of snarls, cries, and the faint crunching of bones underfoot swirl in the air around me.

My blade flashes through the air, striking down foe after foe with calculated accuracy. I can almost feel the life force leaving their bodies as I plunge into their vulnerable hearts. Their blood splatters, coating the ground around us in a macabre tableau of destruction.

The fight rages on, and we move as one. The harsh song of battle resounds as edges clash, each fighter attuned to its grim rhythm. Though my soldiers are few, we are an insurmountable wall of steel and muscle that won't be deterred in our quest to eradicate every last one of Catarina's minions.

My gaze locks onto one of the enemies before me—a grotesque creature with emaciated features and glowing red eyes. Its ragged breaths echo through the howling winter winds as it lunges at me, teeth bared in a snarl.

Without hesitation, I lift my sword high above my head and bring it down in a ferocious arc, severing the vampire's head from its neck.

A thrill courses through me as I feel the life drain from the creature, its essence seeping into my own. This is what it means to be a vampire, to wield power over life and death.

Our small group pushes forward with unwavering resolve. We're not just fighting for our own survival—we're fighting for the very existence of our kind. And I won't rest until every last traitor lies at our feet. For the realms, for our very existence, we will not falter.

Nicolai and Marianne brawl like demons themselves, decapitating anything that stands in their path.

The vampire I'm sparring grabs at me with pale and clammy skin, and veins protrude from its temples and neck. Its eyes are dark and sunken, dripping with malice and hunger.

I pierce my blade through its eye socket, and the vampire writhes in agony, its other eye widening in shock and fear. The sword glows with a bright, otherworldly light as it absorbs the vampire's life force. The creature's mouth opens in a soundless scream, blood trickling from its lips.

As soon as I turn to help Henry, the glint of metal catches my eye as another vampire plunges his sword into Henry's chest. Henry's face contorts in pain, his hand desperately trying to stop the bleeding from his wound.

My heart races with fear and adrenaline as I cover the distance to save my companion. His once bright eyes are now dull and pained as he crumbles to the ground in the red blood pooling around him.

A cold fury settles over me, freezing me to my core.

"Henry!" I roar, my anguish echoing off the very trees themselves.

Another surge of vampires blocks my path, and I charge into the fray, my blade a blur of vengeance, hacking and slashing my way through Catarina's minions.

Ivan, ever faithful at my side, slices through our foes with grim efficiency, his eyes as cold as the winter wind.

"We... must avenge him, my liege!" Ivan says, his very words dripping with bloodlust.

I grunt. "We'll bathe their damnable stronghold in their own accursed blood."

Nicolai and Marianne, their faces a mask of fury, lay waste to anything in their path, their swords whirling in violent arcs.

The tide of the battle shifts. The remaining traitors turn, fleeing like the cowards they are.

A part of me wants to give chase, to hunt them down to their very last breath, but I know it would be foolish. No, we have inflicted enough damage today.

"Henry, my friend." I sheathe my blade, my hands shaking with the adrenaline still coursing through my undead veins.

"General Amanar, we must retreat," Ivan says softly, his hand on my shoulder.

I nod, my heart as cold as the snow that crunches beneath my boots.

"We...we have...won this...small battle," Nicolai pants, sheathing his sword.

We gather our breath, and the echoes of battle slowly fade into the frigid air around us. The fallen lie still, their once fierce presence now reduced to lifeless husks in the aftermath of the skirmish.

"We must regroup. This is but a small victory in the grand scheme of things." Marianne cuts through the somber silence, scanning the field for any signs of lingering danger.

Nicolai nods, his expression grim as he wipes the blood from his blade. "Aye, the war is far from over. Catarina's minions will regroup and strike again. We must be prepared."

Ivan scans the horizon, his keen eyes searching for any movement among the trees. "We should seek shelter for the night. Rest and tend to our wounds before they return with reinforcements."

I turn my back on the carnage we've wrought and walk toward where Henry's lying.

Snow whispers against my boots as I approach Henry, whose lifeblood tints a crude scarlet stain on his clothes. My heart might be dead to the beat of mortal life, but in this moment, something hollow echoes within its chambers. Ivan, Nicolai, and Marianne form a somber circle around him, their faces etched with a grief that runs deeper than any blade.

"General?" Henry's voice is a raspy whisper, barely carrying over the frigid breeze. His hand gropes for mine, his grip weakening with each fleeting second.

I look down at Henry, his breaths shallow and labored. "We will not leave you behind, my friend."

I kneel in the snow, the cold seeping through the layers of my armor, irrelevant against the chill of impending loss. Grasping his hand, I lock eyes with him, searching for words that won't come, for comfort I cannot give. His pale lips curve into a semblance of a smile, a final act of defiance against the shadow of death that looms.

"Fight on. Defeat Catarina and save the realm, my General..." His breath fogs in the air, then his lifeless eyes stare blindly at the snow-filled sky.

The world narrows to the silence that follows, the absence of a heartbeat that once fought alongside mine. A deep growl rumbles in my throat, raw and primal—a vanquished cry for a fallen brother-in-arms. The taste of vengeance is bitter on my tongue.

"Rest now, my friend," Ivan murmurs beside me.

Then he rests his hand firmly on my shoulder, offering solace without words.

I stand, as Nicolai and Marianne tenderly lift his body. They lay him across his horse with a reverence reserved for those who have paid the ultimate price.

Marianne tends to her own wounds with quiet efficiency, her gaze steely as she meets each of our eyes in turn. "We are warriors born from darkness, molded by centuries of strife. We will not be defeated by a mere upstart like Catarina."

I don't say a word, because we all know her words are fact. And even if we hadn't lost Henry, we'd still be in agreement, but now? None of us will stop until she no longer breathes.

That already was my vow, for my fallen Queen, but this has just added unwanted incentive.

I'm aware death is part of battle, but I feel each one. And this one…hurts.

For all of us.

We mount our steeds, the procession back to the stronghold nothing more than a shadowed reflection of our departure. The winter landscape stretches before us, indifferent to the violence it bore witness to, to the blood that now feeds its frozen earth.

"Using Dante's information could end this war." Marianne breaks the heavy silence, her voice tinged with both hope and sorrow.

"Execution and surprise," Ivan replies. "That'll be our edge."

The mission—it embodies everything. It demands perfection; the stakes go far beyond the mere machinations of strategy. Lives, countless and invaluable, rest precariously in my hands—not mere pawns to be shuffled and sacrificed on a chessboard, but souls, each with their own stories and dreams, now entrusted to my command.

And Eleanna...she's the heart in the middle of this rebellion, the inspiration that guides me through the night. Or she will be, once I'm done with her. She has it in her to rule in the right way with the right outlook. Even if she remained in her father's poisonous dark age, she still is a ruler to be respected.

Unlike Catarina.

But to crack Eleanna open so she can't ever go back? That's my goal. Because this battle isn't solely a quest for dominion; it's about carving out a future from the desolation, a chance to forge a path that veers away from the relentless carnage that has marked our past. And Eleanna is the one to do it.

"We'll avenge those we've lost today," I say, my voice low but filled with conviction. "Catarina may think she'll win this battle, but she underestimates our tenacity."

Nicolai sits on his horse and sharpens his sword with practiced skill, rage etched on his features. "They'll regret ever crossing paths with us. We'll make them pay for every drop of blood spilled today."

My resolve crystallizes. It's a fight for a new future. One where our battles and bloodshed give way to peace. This mission's a dual crusade—a battle for the throne, yes, but also a fight for a life with Eleanna, a life that insinuates not just survival but something profoundly more meaningful. If she changes, if she can see she's more than what she was molded to be.

We ride toward the stronghold, and I can taste the tension in the air, our steeds picking their way carefully through the snow-covered landscape. The weight of loss hangs heavy upon me, yet it rouses a fire within my soul, a burning desire for retribution and justice.

"We must strike swiftly and decisively. Our enemy won't expect us to retaliate so soon after our loss," Ivan says.

Marianne nods, her eyes hard and steely. "We have the element of surprise on our side. We must use it to our advantage and catch Catarina off guard."

Nicolai tightens his grip on his horse's reins, his jaw clenched. "I won't rest until every last one of them pays for what they have done."

I look at my comrades, each one a pillar of strength in this time of darkness. "Remember Henry's sacrifice. Let his bravery inspire us to fight with all we have."

The icy wind howls around us as we approach the stronghold, its imposing walls looming ahead like a proud defender watching over my domain. We dismount our steeds, the crunch of snow beneath our boots echoing in the stillness of the winter night.

"We'll move under cover of darkness. We can strike hard and fast, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt," I say, patting my horse.

Marianne nods. "I'll take out their scouts tomorrow and clear the way for our advance."

Nicolai grips his sword, his gaze fierce and unwavering. "The front-line assault will be led by me," he announces. "They'll feel the weight of our fury when we attack."

Ivan adjusts his armor with a grim smile. "And I'll flank their defenses at your command, General, cutting off any chance of escape for Catarina and her forces when we attack."

Together, we stand poised on the brink of battle. The time for mourning has passed; now is the time for action, for redemption, for vengeance upon those who dared to defy us.

With a nod to one another, we steel ourselves for the unknown, ready to come together as warriors bound by blood and honor.

I set my jaw, the coldness of resolve icing over the sorrow trying to claw its way out. We stand in grim silence, hearts broken, purpose renewed: victory for the fallen, for the living, for the realms.

We are united in purpose and bonded by bloodshed, ready to face whatever horrors await us in the dark corners of Catarina's reckless ambitions.