Malekith returned Aric’s stare with a nod, then spurred their monstrous steed forward to follow the demonic tide.
The narrow mountain pass wound through the heart of the jagged peaks, a yawning maw of stone and shadow that largely blocked their view of the town below them as they descended. The air was thin here, a fragile ribbon unraveled from the sky. But it was the unsettling hush of the other demons that put Aric on edge, as if even the demons now feared what might emerge from the dark.
Vizra rode at the head of the column, her honeyed scales shimmering in the faint trickle of moonlight. She was the picture of composure, but Aric caught the tension in her shoulders, the coiled readiness in her stance.
“You seem troubled, Lady Vizra,” Malekith said, keeping his voice low. “I thought you had full confidence in this plan.”
“I do,” Vizra said, her molten gold eyes never leaving the path ahead. “A slight setback, that’s all.”
Aric shivered, though he couldn’t say whether it was from the chill in the air or Vizra’s cryptic words. As if on cue, a cold gust of wind howled down the pass, carrying with it a faint, coppery scent.
“We have nowhere to fall back to now,” Malekith noted. “With the portal closed.”
“Then we have no choice but to advance.”
A low murmur ran through the ranks of the demon army, a frayed thread threatening to unravel. The other commanders cast nervous glances at Vizra, but she gave no sign that anything was amiss.
Aric scanned the rocky slopes, his heart hammering in his ears. He was all too aware of how exposed they were, with the sheer walls of stone rising on either side, and the thin trail that snaked through the darkness.
“Be ready,” Malekith said, his voice a soft hiss over his shoulder to Aric’s ears alone. “Something isn’t right.”
Aric nodded, his mouth suddenly dry. If even Malekith sensed the danger, then it was far more than just his imagination. He only wished he knew what form it would take.
Then, from high above, came the piercing cry of a war horn, shattering the silence of the pass.
Aric’s heart leapt into his throat. The next instant, the mountainsides were alive with movement, and the air was rent with the sound of human battle horns, echoing and intertwining in a savage melody.
“Form ranks!” Vizra bellowed, her magic spilling forth in a corona of flames.
But it was too late. The humans were already upon them, a tide of steel and fury pouring down the mountainsides.
The initial barrage of trebuchet fire carved a path of devastation through the demons’ ranks, the boulders flattening entire units, but the enemy was quick to regroup, and their archers and spellcasters rained death down on the demons from above. Vizra’s orders were lost in the chaos, the humans’ ambush too well-coordinated, too well-prepared.
“Aerial units, engage their archers!” she shouted, flames wreathing her form as she unleashed a torrent of fire. Winged monsters lurched skyward at her command. “Infantry, hold the line! No, wait—”
But it was no use. The demon units were fragmented, confused, the other columns too busy jockeying for position to coordinate a proper defense.
Malekith ground his teeth together as he scanned the battlefield, grasping at any hint of order, of a way to regroup, if Aric had to guess. But all he saw was the same sight Aric did: the broken bodies of his soldiers, the humans pressing in from all sides, and Vizra’s lieutenants bickering amongst themselves.
“Fall back to the wider section!” he roared, spurring his mount forward. “Spellcasters, form a barrier! Heavy infantry, protect their flanks!”
Whether the other demons heard him or simply caught a glimpse of the raw power crackling around him, they obeyed, falling into step behind the prince.
Aric turned his attention to the sky, where human wyverns and griffins wheeled in tight formation, searching for any sign of weakness. They were only fully visible as silhouettes where they blotted out the stars, but the winged demons had engaged them to the fullest, and it was hard for Aric to say who was shredding through whose ranks more. With a flick of his wrist, Malekith sent a plume of thick black smoke billowing into the air, shielding the demons below and sending the aerial units into momentary confusion.
Aric’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Malekith’s shadow magic dance across the battlefield. The demon forces were vastly outnumbered, but Malekith’s illusions were making them appear larger, more spread out than they truly were. It was a risky gambit, but their only hope of staving off an all-out massacre.
“Vivasaar, take your elementals and flank left. Shal’kar, I want your harpies in the rear to intercept any human reinforcements. Valthran, hold the line with me. We’ll keep the humans’ attention focused on our center.”
The other demon commanders looked momentarily taken aback at Malekith’s sudden assumption of command, but the urgency in his voice brooked no argument. With a series of gutteral barks and hisses, both Malekith’s and Vizra’s commanders sprang into action, rallying their troops to carry out Malekith’s orders.
Aric’s chest swelled with a surge of pride. Malekith was a force of nature, all raw power and feral grace as he guided the demon forces with ruthless efficiency. It was a side of him that Aric had only caught glimpses of before, but now, in the heat of battle, he was like a different demon, or perhaps more truly himself. Guarding his forces over pushing them to claim more lives—it was . . . a relief.
A loud horn blast signaled the demon forces to regroup, the thick black smoke of Malekith’s illusions parting to reveal the demon army arrayed before the humans, a dark tide ready to crash against their fragile shores.
Vizra gathered her elite warriors, her golden eyes blazing with a desperate, feral light. “Follow me!” she hissed, her voice carrying over the din of battle like a serpent’s strike.
They moved with inhuman grace, scaling the treacherous mountainside as if gravity held no sway over them. Aric’s heart pounded in his chest, a sickening dread building as he realized their intent. He wanted to look away, to close his eyes against what was about to unfold, but he owed it to the humans below to bear witness.
Vizra’s group crested the ridge, pausing for a heartbeat before they descended upon the human flank. They fell like living shadows, silent and deadly. The first screams rent the air, high and terrible, cutting through the clash of steel and the roar of magic.
Aric’s vision blurred, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he watched the demons tear through the human ranks. They moved with savage efficiency, each strike precise and lethal. Blood sprayed in crimson arcs, staining the rocky ground and filling the air with its coppery tang.
He had known, intellectually, the brutality of demon warfare. But to see it, to hear it, to smell death and feart—it was beyond anything he had imagined. His people, his kin, were being slaughtered like cattle.
Bile rose in Aric’s throat, bitter and burning. He swallowed hard, forcing it back down. This was the reality of the war he had sought to understand, to end. This was the price of his choices, of his desperate gambit for peace.
A soldier fell, his scream cut short as Vizra’s claws tore through his throat. Aric flinched, feeling the phantom pain as if it were his own flesh being rent. He wanted to turn away, to shut out the horror before him, but he couldn’t. He owed them that much, at least—to see, to remember, to carry the weight of their sacrifice.
The human line buckled under the onslaught, their formation crumbling as panic spread through their ranks. Vizra stood at the heart of the carnage, her honeyed scales slick with blood, a terrible beauty in her savagery.
Aric’s fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms. The pain was a welcome distraction, grounding him in the moment. He had to endure this. He had to find a way to make it mean something, to ensure that all this death wasn’t in vain.
As the screams of the dying filled the air, Aric silently vowed that he would end this war, no matter the cost to himself. He would bridge the chasm between human and demon, to forge a peace that would render such slaughter obsolete. It was the only way he could live with himself, with the weight of the lives lost this day.
Aric’s eyes darted across the battlefield, searching for any sign of hope amidst the carnage. His gaze locked onto a group of human soldiers, their backs pressed against a sheer cliff face. Panic etched their features as demon forces closed in, cutting off any chance of escape.
His heart hammered against his ribs. Without thinking, Aric raised his hands, motioning frantically in the opposite direction. “Flank attack!” he shouted over the clamor of battle. “Human reinforcements to the east! Protect the flank!”
