Chapter 12 - The Southern Threat Approaches
Peace in the north, however, was destined to be tested.
Before dawn broke the following morning, the alarm bells of Blackstone Fortress began to toll—a deep, rhythmic iron clanging that shattered the quiet morning air.
Ilira bolted upright in her chambers, the crescent birthmark on her collarbone flaring with a sudden, sharp spike of silver light. She threw on her mantle and rushed out onto the balcony, where Aldrick was already standing in full combat armor, his spyglass raised toward the southern horizon.
"What is it?" Ilira asked, stepping up beside him.
"Look," Aldrick handed her the spyglass.
Through the lens, the distant mountain pass leading from the southern border looked alive. A vast army of shadow-warriors clad in obsidian armor was marching rapidly through the snow, accompanied by massive, twisted war-hounds whose eyes burned with unnatural red fire. At their front rode Malakai, holding high a glowing obsidian shard that sent dark shockwaves rippling through the air, melting the snow and cracking the stone bridges.
"They aren't just raiding," Ilira realized, her eyes narrowing as a cold surge of protective fury washed over her. "They’re trying to shatter the mountain seals and flood the northern valleys with southern corruption."
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"Maelor was just a pawn," Aldrick said grimly, strapping his greatsword across his back. "Malakai is the master. He wants the primordial vault reopened on his own terms."
"Then we won't wait for them to reach the gates," Ilira said, her voice ringing with absolute royal command. "We meet them at the pass."
