The gates of Redgate Fortress creaked open with the sound of rust and memory.
As the survivors approached, archers atop the ramparts aimed down, bows half-drawn, face shadowed by grime and fatigue.
Elya stepped forward, hands raised. "Crimson Concord! Ember Hollow detachment! We bring wounded, food stores, and fighters."
A gruff voice shouted from above, "You bring death more like. Get inside before the Tribunal spots you!"
The gates parted fully. The caravan flowed through.
Kairo entered Redgate for the first time and tasted the rot of despair in the air.
The outer courtyard was a graveyard disguised as a defense post. Tents flapped like half-raised flags, smeared with dried blood. Medical stations had been carved out of broken siege wagons. The dead were stacked in corners, too numerous to bury, their faces covered with scrap cloth and prayer sheets. Only the youngest had names written on them.
The walls, once towering and proud, were scorched with impact lines. One entire turret leaned inward, cracked from the inside out.
Redgate was falling.
And yet it still stood.
A woman approached, silver armor hanging off her tall, wiry frame like a memory of former strength. She wore no helmet, her hair was shorn short, her eyes were sleepless, and her left arm was bound in a sling.
"Elya," she said. "You brought ghosts with you."
"Captain Ryven," Elya replied with a tired nod. "You're not looking dead yet. That's something."
The woman grunted. "We've been holding the line with thirty volunteers, half a barrel of black powder, and prayer scrolls that haven't sparked in two days."
She eyed the newcomers.
"This them?"
"Most of the Hollow cell. We lost the rest in the Blight passes."
Ryven's gaze landed on Kairo.
"And who's this one? Doesn't look green, doesn't look tired, and he's carrying a blade I don't recognize."
"Kairo," Elya said. "He saved half our caravan."
Ryven stepped closer. "You fought before?"
"Yes."
"Whose banner?"
Kairo hesitated. "No one's."
Ryven studied him for another second, then gave a half-smile. "Good. That means you haven't learned to lose yet."
She turned. "Get your people food and rest. We need warm bodies on the wall by nightfall."
They were escorted to the inner keep by the guards, where the Concord held command meetings in what had once been a banquet hall. Now, the tapestries were torn down, the stone walls cracked, and the long table covered in makeshift maps and wax seals.
Kairo stood at the far side of the room, his halberd resting beside him.
Ryven pointed at the map.
"The Tribunal moves by rhythm. Their war cadence is predictable if you listen."
She tapped a burn-marked hill to the west.
"They set up divine artillery here yesterday. Fired once. Then they waited. They'll hit us again tonight."
"Any Purifiers confirmed?" Elya asked.
"One. Purifier Ser Malvyn Draegor. Carries the Tribunal's Judgment Flame. He's buried two battalions in three campaigns."
Kairo felt something coil in his chest.
That name echoed like thunder.
The name hit him like a lance through the chest.
Ser Malvyn Draegor.
He didn't know why it stirred something inside him, rage, shame, maybe even fear. But his fingers curled unconsciously around the haft of his halberd.
That name meant something.
Ryven tapped the map again, continuing her briefing.
"They've got a forward line of paladins backed by artillery and war clerics. This Purifier Draegor doesn't speak. Don't gloat. Just burns. He's converted entire rebel cities into Writ-locked zones in less than a day."
"What's a Writ-locked zone?" Kairo asked.
Elya glanced at him grimly. "It's worse than death. The Eternal Writ brands the land itself. Time slows. No magic works. The people inside don't die, they just… stop."
Ryven added, "They become scripture. Living verses of obedience."
Kairo's skin crawled.
"This is what we're facing?"
Ryven nodded. "Unless we find a way to take out their artillery and kill Draegor before dawn, Redgate will fall."
An hour later, they stood on the western wall.
The sun had fully set. Darkness blanketed the horizon, broken only by tiny orange pulses like fireflies blinking in formation.
"They're calibrating the divine guns," Ryven murmured. Testing trajectory. When the line holds steady."
A distant thunderclap cut her off. The mountain above Redgate lit up in golden flame.
A crater appeared where the north tower had been.
Stone, fire, and soldiers were vaporized in an instant.
The shockwave knocked Kairo off balance. Dust rained down from the sky like falling stars.
"Spires of the Writ," Elya swore.
The air rang with a strange, metallic hum, a divine resonance.
Kairo steadied himself and stared out at the smoke pillar.
"How many of those can they fire?"
Ryven's jaw was tight. "Four more. Maybe five. Then they'll march."
He turned to Elya. "Then we move first."
Back in the armory, little more than a storage cellar beneath the keep, Elya gathered the raid team: six fighters, one marksman, and Kairo.
The plan was simple, stay under the cover of night, cross the lower gully, flank the Tribunal camp, and destroy or disrupt the divine artillery before the next volley.
They'd have less than two hours.
Kairo checked his gear in silence.
The halberd vibrated faintly as if sensing what lay ahead. He pulled back the chain blades, locking them to the haft's magnetic ring. The weapon's glow dimmed to a low pulse bloodlight in steel.
He looked up.
Elya was already watching him from across the room.
"You ready?"
Kairo gave a small nod. "Always."
"You scared?"
He considered that honestly.
"Yes," he said. "But it's not fear of dying."
She tilted her head. "Then what?"
"That I've done all this before… and I still failed."
She didn't know what to say to that.
So she said nothing.
They crossed the ravine under the cover of night.
The only light came from the stars and from the enemy's distant torchlines that flickered like a ring of fire choking Redgate from the west. The ground sloped down into a dead zone known as the "Hollow Trough," a stretch of land once used for farming, now cursed by decades of artillery impact and Blightborn contamination.
The air smelled of rust and scorched roots.
Elya signaled the squad to fan out, each member cloaked in wet ash and dust to minimize shine. Even the blades were muffled in leather.
Kairo moved silently beside her, halberd slung low, one chainblade ready to snap loose. The pulse of divine magic grew stronger the farther they moved. It throbbed in the earth now, a kind of distant chant that vibrated through his bones.
They reached the first outcrop.
Elya crouched and pulled out a cracked monocular. "One main gun. Two flame batteries. Four paladins. One cleric. And"
She froze.
Kairo leaned in.
The figure by the divine gun stood still, tall, cloaked in silver-etched armor. His helm was shaped like a blade hilt, a vertical spike rising from his crown.
Flames curled around his feet but didn't burn the ground.
Purifier Ser Malvyn Draegor.
Kairo's chest tightened.
He couldn't see the man's face.
But he knew that stance, that aura.
Memories fluttered unformed, just shadows screaming crowds. A cathedral turned to ash, a sword made of sunfire.
And Draegor was standing in it unburned.
Elya whispered, "We'll circle wide. Take the gunners out first. We don't touch the Purifier."
Kairo didn't answer.
He was already moving.
The plan unraveled in seconds.
As the team reached the rear slope of the enemy encampment, one of the rebels misjudged a step, and his boot cracked a loose stone.
The sound echoed like thunder in the cursed silence.
Shouts erupted.
A divine flame ignited.
Steel boots hit the ground.
Kairo surged forward, chainblade out, intercepting the nearest paladin before they could raise the alarm fully. His blade coiled like a serpent, snapping around the enemy's sword arm and yanking hard. The paladin stumbled, and Kairo drove the second blade into the gap beneath the chin of their helmet.
Elya cursed. "Too late!"
A flare exploded overhead, illuminating the ridge.
The Purifier turned.
Even from fifty meters away, Kairo felt the heat of his gaze.
Their eyes locked, and Draegor tilted his head slightly, as if... recognizing him.
Then came the voice.
Not loud, not cruel, just final.
"You were judged. You should not walk."
The world around Kairo dimmed.
Then everything exploded.