Chapter 4 - The Battle of Riverbend
Riverbend was a quiet, prosperous village nestled in the valley between the jagged peaks of the Northern Ridge and the lush southern forests. Its population was primarily made up of tradespeople, farmers, and wolfless families who had sought refuge from the cruel blood laws of the Northern Packs.
Now, Riverbend was surrounded by fire.
Three thousand heavily armored wolves of the Northern Alliance stood on the hills overlooking the wooden palisade of the village. Banners bearing the claw-marks of Ironfang and the bloody rose of the Crimson Reach snapped in the freezing northern wind.
At the front of the army rode Lord Malakor, mounted on a massive black warhorse, flanked by Duke Kenneth and Lady Serena.
Below them, the villagers trembled behind their wooden gates. A small garrison of fifty royal guards stood atop the ramparts, their bows drawn, but their faces showed the dark truth: they were wildly outnumbered.
"Break the gates!" Malakor bellowed, his voice echoing across the valley. "Burn the houses! Leave no one alive! Let Alistair see the price of harboring a human whore on the throne!"
The northern wolves howled—a terrifying, blood-curdling chorus that shook the very trees. They began their charge, pounding down the snow-covered hill like an avalanche of iron and fur.
Suddenly, a blinding flash of golden light erupted in the narrow pass between the hill and the village gates.
The air thrummed with a sound like a giant harp string being plucked deep beneath the earth.
The charging front line of Malakor’s army screeched to a halt as the ground beneath their feet began to heave.
Standing alone in the center of the narrow pass was Evangeline Vance.
She wore no armor. She carried no sword. She stood in the deep snow clad in her emerald robes, her dark hair flying wildly in the freezing wind, her hands extended loosely at her sides.
Behind her, emerging from the tree line, came King Alistair and the Royal Guard, but Alistair held his hand up, signaling his men to hold their position. He trusted her completely.
"It is the girl!" Duke Kenneth yelled, pulling his horse back in panic. "She is alone!"
"Kill her!" Malakor roared, drawing a massive two-handed broadsword. "Shoot her down!"
A hundred archers on the hill released their bowstrings. A dark rain of black-feathered arrows vaulted into the sky, arcing downward directly toward Evangeline’s head.
Evangeline did not flinch. She simply raised her right hand and slammed her palm gently onto the frozen earth.
"Listen," she whispered to the ground.
BOOM.
A wall of giant, ancient oak roots erupted from the frozen soil, shooting forty feet into the air like a palisade of solid living timber. The arrows struck the dense wood, snapping harmlessly like twigs.
Before the northern army could recover from their shock, Evangeline swept her hand across the horizon.
The thick oak roots did not collapse; they split apart, forming a massive, blooming archway. Evangeline stepped through the archway, her eyes burning like miniature suns, her voice carrying across the entire battlefield with divine authority.
"Lords of the North!" she cried out, her voice echoing off the mountains. "You came here to fight a human! Look upon me and see if I am what you expected!"
Malakor snarled, leaping off his horse and transforming mid-air into a monstrous, jet-black wolf fifteen feet long, his red eyes burning with insane rage. He charged forward, his massive claws tearing up the earth, followed by hundreds of his strongest Alpha warriors.
Evangeline did not draw a weapon. She closed her hands into fists and lifted them toward the sky.
The earth responded.
The snow beneath the feet of the charging wolf army instantly melted into warm, liquid mud. But it was not normal mud—it rose like living tendrils, wrapping around the legs, arms, and torsos of the shifting wolves, hardening into solid, unbreakable stone within a fraction of a second.
Three hundred massive war-wolves were frozen in mid-charge, trapped in statues of solid granite, their jaws snapping helplessly at the air, completely immobilized.
Malakor, driving forward with pure brute strength, broke through the stone trap, his jaws snapping inches from Evangeline’s neck.
Evangeline did not dodge. She reached out with lightning speed, her pale, small hand catching the monstrous black wolf by the scruff of his throat.
The moment her glowing skin touched his fur, Malakor froze.
A shockwave of pure energy surged through his body. His inner beast—the wild, murderous wolf that had driven him to slaughter thousands—was instantly silenced, forced into absolute submission by the ancient authority flowing through her veins.
Evangeline leaned in close to the massive beast’s ear.
"Your wolf was a gift from my people," she whispered softly. "Do not force me to take it back."
She released her grip and shoved him backward.
Malakor collapsed onto the mud, instantly shifting back into his human form. He gasped for air, clutching his chest, his face pale with utter terror as he realized his inner wolf was cowering in the absolute darkness of his mind, refusing to answer his call.
Behind him, Lady Serena and Duke Kenneth dropped their weapons, throwing themselves onto the muddy ground in absolute surrender.
The Northern Alliance had been broken without a single drop of blood being spilled by the royal army.
Evangeline turned toward the trembling northern warriors still trapped in stone. She raised her hand, and the granite softened back into loose earth, freeing them.
"Go back to your lands," Evangeline commanded, her voice ringing clear across the valley. "Tell your people that the era of blood and tyranny is over. Tell them that the Earth-Singer sits upon the throne—and she protects ALL who dwell beneath her sky."
The northern warriors scrambled backward, dragging their disgraced Alpha, Lord Malakor, with them as they fled in complete humiliation toward the mountains.
King Alistair walked up behind Evangeline, his golden eyes filled with an overwhelming, proud devotion. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest.
"You left none for me to fight, my Queen," he murmured playfully against her ear.
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Evangeline leaned her head back against his shoulder, letting out a long, exhausted breath as the golden glow in her eyes slowly faded back to dark, gentle brown.
"There was no need for a fight, Alistair," she smiled softly. "They just needed to remember who built the world they were trying to burn."
