The war room felt as though it had frozen in time, the weight of Lord Stormrider's words crushing every breath from the air. Rowena's heart sank, her chest tightening with despair. The thought of thousands of draconians flooding her kingdom's lands was a nightmare made real. Her fists clenched against the edges of the stone table, her knuckles white as she stared at the grim faces of her advisors.
"Your Majesty?" Stormrider's voice trembled with urgency as he once again called to her, his eyes and those of everyone in the room searching hers for direction.
For a moment, Rowena felt the cracks of hopelessness creeping into her resolve. The suddenness of the attack, the sheer number of enemies, and the realization that the kingdom might fall—it all pressed down on her like an unrelenting storm.
All the plans she had to fight the draconians turned out to be useless in the face of this surprise attack.
But then her gaze hardened. If she faltered, so would her people. She would not let despair claim her. Not now.
She straightened her posture, her voice cutting through the heavy air like a blade, "We fight," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "We fight with everything we have, and we hold the line until we can find a way to close those portals." Realization struck her as she added with a dark expression, "The Death Embrace arrays...Drakar must have used them to generate enough power to teleport to our kingdom." She could guess the number of people he must sacrificed to generate such power.
Stormrider's eyes widened, "But to receive the teleportation energy from such a far distance can't be possible unless-"
"Unless someone among us betrayed us and established multiple connections within our lands without us knowing," Rowena finished with a deep frown. She had a feeling it had to be someone high up in ranks and trusted by most...trusted by her. Who could have broken her trust? She felt her heart clench, wondering why those close to her was breaking her trust one by one.
"The Mother Tower must have been compromised. It is the only way way to reroute and join together multiple arrays to establish so many portals in our kingdom," Seron chimed in with a grave look.
"Advisor Seron is right. But we can't do everything at once. What are your orders, Your Majesty?" Stormrider asked, his expression grim but resolute.
Rowena's eyes darted to Vernon, "Lord Vernon, rally the remaining troops stationed near the palace and dispatch them to cover the nearest portals. These draconians crave the blood of the weak and enjoy slaughtering them. So prioritize evacuation of civilians in the areas most crowded. We need to separate our people from them to utilize our dragons to the fullest. We have to avoid collateral damage as much as possible."
Vernon bowed low, "At once, Your Majesty."
She turned to Seron next, "Advisor Seron, while you command one of our dragons, I need every capable Spelldancers focused on shutting down those portals. After that, I need you to investigate what happened with our Mother Tower and deal with whatever is wrong. We need to cut off their reinforcements. And then send word to our allies—we need them now."
Seron bowed sharply, "I'll see it done, Your Majesty."
Her gaze shifted to Stormrider, "Lord Stormrider, take command of the outer defenses. Push the draconians back as far as possible and protect the evacuation routes using our Dreadwings. No matter what happens, buy our people time. The lords gathered here will follow your lead."
Stormrider thumped his chest with his fist, "I will not fail you, Your Majesty."
*Boom!*
The draconian's body erupted into a burst of scorching ashes, a scream dying in his throat as his form was consumed by an inferno of crimson flames. The force of the explosion rattled the ground, and as the ashes scattered into the air, the Bloodburn Queen descended from above, her figure bathed in the hellish glow of the fires she had summoned.
Her black whip curled at her side like a living serpent, crackling with an ominous energy. Her crimson eyes burned with an unrelenting fury, and her dark, regal armor gleamed under the light of the flames. Her deep black vambraces resembled the mouths of dragons, and her dark breastplate had the flames of a dragon carved over it, flowing like a river of flames.
Perched atop her head was a crown as dark as the abyss, its thorn-like projections reaching skyward with a menacing grace. Horns curled outward from the sides, sharp and imposing, framing her pale, commanding face. What made the crown truly terrifying was the glowing red-hot light emanating from beneath the mystical metal, casting fiery veins of light that pulsed like a heartbeat. She landed gracefully, her heeled boots clicking softly against the blood-stained ground.
The hundreds of draconians behind the fallen one froze for a split second, their bloodlust faltering as they registered her suffocating presence. Rowena raised her whip high, her eyes looking upon them as if they were already dead.
With a flick of her wrist, the whip lashed out, trailing a torrent of crimson fire that spun into a whirlpool of flames. *WHOOOSH!*
The vortex roared to life, growing larger and pulling the draconians into its merciless embrace. They screamed, their voices filled with agony as their bodies were incinerated, reduced to nothing but ashes. The air vibrated with the sheer force of her power, the heat so intense that the ground beneath her feet began to crack and smolder.
When the last agonized cry faded into silence, the whirlpool dissipated, leaving nothing but scorched earth and a haze of ash. Rowena stood unmoving, her whip coiled in her hand, her back to the crowd she had just saved.
The mother clung to her child, tears streaming down her face—not from fear, but from relief and hope. Around her, the gathered citizens stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of awe and gratitude. They looked upon their queen not just as their ruler but as their savior, a beacon of hope amidst the sea of despair.
They felt their hearts brimming with warmth to see that she personally came down to protect them.
But before anyone could move or speak, a new presence made itself known. From the ashes and debris in the distance, figures began to emerge. First came the Dragonblood Knights, their dark armor reflecting the eerie glow of the battlefield. Their expressions were stoic, their movements precise as they fanned out. Behind them marched thousands of draconian soldiers, their synchronized steps a chilling reminder of their discipline and power. They were an elite legion of the Draconian Blight army, far superior to the rest.
And then, at the center of it all, Drakar stepped forward. His pale skin glistened under the crimson sky, his jet-black wings folding behind him with an air of menace.
His dark red eyes gleamed with malice as his lips curled into a dark smile, "There you are, heh." he murmured, his voice low but dripping with satisfaction. The aura emanating from the Draconian King was terrifying, his presence alone enough to send a wave of dread through the crowd. The people's faces twisted in terror, their earlier relief evaporating as they stared at the Draconian King standing far away. Even at such a distance, his overwhelming power was palpable, pressing down on them like an invisible weight.
However, Rowena narrowed her eyes, countering his aura with hers as the expressions of her people eased up, feeling relieved from whatever dread they were feeling before.
Without turning fully, she glanced over her shoulder at the frightened and anxious crowd. "Go," she commanded, her voice cutting through their fear like a blade, "I will handle them."
The people hesitated, guilt and worry flashing across their faces. To leave their queen alone to face such a force—it felt like abandonment.
But deep down, they knew. They were not warriors. They couldn't help her. The only thing they could do was try to live, survive, and honor the actions she was willing to make for them.
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