Page 25 of Sundered By Fate

"We'll hold them at the walls as long as we can," Aric said. "Mages on the ramparts, ready to counter their spells. Archers targeting any fliers. And if they breach the gates . . ."

He trailed off, unwilling to voice that possibility.

A tremor ran through the earth as the first wave of demons slammed into the wards. The air crackled with lightning and fire as the mages unleashed their spells, bolts of energy arcing toward the shadowy forms beyond the walls.

Aric added his own magic to theirs, conjuring golden flames like molten gold in his palms. The heat of it seared his skin, but he held it steady, letting the magic build until it roared like a furnace.

"Let's make them regret ever setting foot on human soil," he said, his voice a low growl.

The demon army crashed against Thornhaven's outer defenses with the force of a hurricane. Aric stood firm,channeling his magic into the wards as he tried to maintain his grip on reality. The golden flames in his palms blazed white-hot, searing the air as he poured his power into the barriers.

Yet while he fought, he felt something shifting in the back of his mind. A dark presence, coiling and twisting like a shadow in the depths of his consciousness. His bond with Malekith, surging with unbidden strength.

Aric grit his teeth, trying to push the sensation away. He couldn't afford distractions now; not with the fate of Thornhaven hanging in the balance.

With a shout, he willed the shadows to solidify, forming walls of darkness to reinforce the town's defenses. The barriers loomed above the ramparts, their surfaces writhing and shifting as they absorbed the brunt of the demonic assault.

For a moment, it was enough. But then the ground shook, and a massive figure stepped out from the forest.

Aric froze, his heart lurching in his chest. The demon was enormous, its twisted form a nightmarish fusion of man and beast. Its skin glistened like polished obsidian, and its eyes burned with an unholy light.

A demon lord—but not one Aric recognized. Not from the courts or the battlefields he'd haunted for so long.

And yet its presence filled him with an inexplicable sense of dread.

"Who—?" Aric started to ask, but his voice faltered. Whatever this new demon's identity, it didn't matter; all that mattered was stopping it before it tore through Thornhaven's defenses like paper.

With renewed determination, Aric faced down this new threat head-on—ready to do whatever it took to protect what he held dear.

As the demon horde surged, Aric danced along the ramparts, hurling waves of golden fire that sought out demons withunerring accuracy. But the magical currents thrummed and jittered around him, an angry storm barely held in check. Each spell cast seemed to tear the air further, reality fraying at the edges.

Nearby, other mages struggled with their incantations. Some lost control entirely, their spells backfiring in bursts of color and sound. A pillar of flame erupted from one poor soul's staff, immolating him instantly. Another was engulfed in a thick fog, emerging seconds later as a twisted abomination.

"Get a hold of yourselves!" a battlemage barked, trying to rally them. "The anomaly's just making things more interesting!"

Aric knew better than most how dangerous their magic was becoming. His own connection to it was like a live wire, threatening to burn him out if he wasn't careful.

He had to stay in control. If he lost himself in the fires, there was no telling what might emerge.

As the battle raged on, Aric's eyes were drawn to a figure fighting amidst the chaos. Clad in the Pureblade Order's obsidian armor, Cyrus Revenant moved like a force of nature, his greatsword cleaving through demon flesh with merciless efficiency. Even without seeing his face, Aric recognized him instantly—the rigid posture, the relentless precision.

"Thought they'd have to drag him here kicking and screaming," Davin muttered beside him.

Aric bit back a retort as he watched Cyrus dispatch a particularly large demon with a brutal series of strikes. There was no denying the man's skill; for all their differences, Cyrus fought with a singular purpose that Aric couldn't help but respect.

For an instant, their eyes met across the battlefield. Cyrus's cold gray stare locked onto Aric's before he gave a grudging nod and turned back to his grim work.

The gesture struck Aric like a physical blow. To have the Lord Inquisitor acknowledge him, even in this dire circumstance . . .

There was no time for pride or resentment now. Only survival.

With a snarl, Aric turned back to the fray.

Something new, potent ran through currents, sending a chill up Aric's spine. He glanced around at his fellow mages, who were all too absorbed in the battle to notice.

But there it was—a steady pulse beneath the chaos. A rhythm to the storm of magic surrounding them.

Aric wove between his comrades, following the pattern as it led him toward the town square. The further he went, the stronger the currents grew, tugging at his magic like a riptide.

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