The Red Commander stood at the edge of the pass. His burning sword casting flickering shadows across the rocks.
He didn't move. Just stood there like a statue wrapped in fire, his blade glowing with heat that shimmered in the air.
The morning light bent and twisted around him. The red armor covering his body looked darker than the others. Edged in gold and pulsing with faint runes.
Behind him. The Red Legion began to pull back, slowly forming a wide half-circle.
Their weapons stayed raised. Their breathing was heavy. But none of them made a move without his signal.
Kyle stood near the front of the Black Legion's defenses. His boots planted in blood-soaked earth.
Zalrielle hung low in his grip. Its icy blade crackling with quiet energy. Every inch of his body ached.
His muscles screamed, his wounds throbbed. But his eyes stayed locked on the burning man at the far end of the pass.
The Red Commander hadn't made a sound. Not a word. Not a shout.
He didn't need to.
