The warning came sooner than expected.
Before noon, Selene spotted dust rising in the distance from the highest watchtower. It wasn't wind.
It was an army.
Kael was in the training yard when the alarm bell rang. His heart slammed against his ribs as he looked up at the cliffs.
"How many?" Ryn asked.
Selene's voice was steady but tense.
"More than twenty. Armed. Organized."
Kael closed his eyes for one breath.
This was it.
"Positions," he ordered. "No panic. No retreat."
The fort moved like a living thing. Lyra and the others rushed to their places. Doors were barred. Archers took the walls. Ryn drew his blades.
Kael climbed the tower.
The king's soldiers marched from the mist, banners fluttering. They were not hunters this time.
They were executioners.
A voice rang out.
"Prince Kael! By royal order, surrender and all who follow you will be spared!"
Kael stepped forward, rain beginning to fall once more.
"I do not kneel to tyrants," Kael replied.
The soldiers charged.
Arrows flew. Selene's shots were deadly, dropping enemies before they reached the gates. Ryn leapt from the wall into their ranks, blades flashing.
Kael met the first soldier head-on, his strike clean and powerful.
This was no longer a skirmish.
This was war.
Steel clashed. Blood soaked the stones. Kael fought not for himself—but for every person behind him. For Loyalty.
A massive warrior broke through the gate, swinging a hammer.
Kael stepped forward.
Their weapons collided with a thunderous crash.
"Your father sends his regards," the warrior sneered.
Kael's eyes burned.
"Then tell him," Kael said, pushing forward, "his son is no longer running."
The storm had broken.
And Kael stood at its center.
(To be continued)