The sun rose like a bloodied blade above the dunes, casting long shadows over the endless sea of sand. Kael stood atop the ridge, his cloak snapping in the wind, as the spires of Azrana glinted far in the distance—a city of marble and gold, veiled by dust and secrets.
The army had come far. Ragged, worn, but unbroken. Behind Kael, thousands of warriors stood ready—soldiers who had followed him through hell and worse. And now, the end lay ahead.
"Azrana," Bael muttered, reining in beside him. "Home to vipers and gods."
Kael didn't answer immediately. His eyes were locked on the gates. He could feel something stirring within the walls—ancient, restless. The First Flame, or the shadow of it.
"We breach by dawn," he said. "Tonight, we make the city bleed."
---
That night, under the cover of darkness, Kael's scouts approached the southern walls. Unlike Damarak, Azrana was not taken by siege but by strategy. Liora had uncovered a forgotten aqueduct beneath the outer wall, just wide enough for a man to crawl through.
The plan was simple.
Slip inside. Open the gates from within. Let the fury of the desert flood the city.
Kael led the first wave.
The tunnel stank of mold and rot, the air stale from centuries of disuse. Water dripped in slow, echoing beats, and every sound was a reminder of the risk.
They emerged inside a granary—abandoned save for a few startled rats.
From there, the infiltration was swift.
Silent blades, quick movements, guards crumpling before they could raise alarm. Kael's men split into pairs, each group targeting a section of the inner wall. Liora made for the gatehouse. Her dagger gleamed like moonlight.
Within an hour, the gates groaned open.
The desert army poured through like a flood.
Azrana woke in screams.
---
The battle was chaos.
The Emperor's soldiers were better armed, better trained. But they hadn't expected the gate to fall before dawn. Confusion was Kael's ally.
He fought at the front, blade singing, every swing another name carved into history. Around him, the tide of war surged—buildings burned, stone shattered, blood soaked the golden streets.
Then came the roar.
A beast of metal and fury—an automaton, relic of the Old Empire—stomped through the central square. Powered by ancient fire, its eyes glowed with unnatural flame.
Kael turned to face it.
"Liora! Bael! Fall back!"
He stood his ground.
The automaton raised a blazing arm—fire spewed from its core, turning sand to glass.
Kael dove, rolled, and struck.
His blade sparked against its plated knee. It staggered but did not fall.
More soldiers joined him—ropes, oil, fire.
The creature burned, screamed in metallic fury, and finally collapsed.
---
By morning, the city was theirs.
Azrana had fallen.
But the Emperor was gone—vanished into the depths beneath the palace.
And Kael knew where he had gone.
The relic awaited.
Buried.
Breathing.
Waiting for one final war.