The rain hadn't stopped in days.
Heavy clouds smothered the skies over western Laginaple, cloaking the war-torn land in a dim, ceaseless gloom. Thunder rolled in the distance, not from nature, but from clashing steel and shattering spells. A Falzath warlord had entrenched himself near the ruins of what once was a proud village—a final thorn in the rebellion's side. And beneath those swirling clouds, two silhouettes strode through the mud and fire.
Laverna and Lyssa.
"He's close," Lyssa said, her voice calm despite the shrieks of monsters echoing ahead.
Laverna didn't speak. Her jamadhars gleamed in the rain, the serrated edges stained with the black ichor of corrupted foot soldiers. Her eyes burned with stormlight, amber flashing like twin torches in the dark. Her tiger eye necklace pulsed faintly at her throat, a heartbeat in harmony with the storm. Every drop of rain that touched her skin felt like a whisper from the past, every thunderclap like the drumbeat of her resolve.
They moved as one.
The final gate was breached not by battering ram, but by magic. Lyssa raised her staff high, incanting a barrier-shattering rune that erupted in a burst of silver lightning. The wooden gates shattered into splinters, and the two women charged in without hesitation, two forces of nature breaking through the corruption.
The Falzath warlord stood tall within the temple ruins—a hulking beast clad in molten plate, his eyes two pits of crimson. He wielded a cleaver as long as a man, dripping with black fire. Around him, the remaining corrupted formed a shield wall, hissing and snarling, as if trying to delay the inevitable.
Laverna didn't wait.
She moved faster than thought, her jamadhars flashing like fangs of vengeance. One swipe carved open a soldier's throat, another drove deep into a beastman's gut. She danced through them, a cyclone of steel and rage. Her tiger eye glowed, casting golden flares with each strike, as if her mother's spirit guided her hand through every parry and plunge.
Behind her, Lyssa called down storms. Lightning lanced from her fingertips, arcing between enemies. She summoned protective barriers around Laverna, redirecting arrows and spears. She chanted with growing intensity, weaving wind and storm to cloak their assault. Together, they were art and destruction, two halves of a single storm, inseparable and unrelenting.
The warlord bellowed.
He stomped forward, each step cracking the stone beneath him. He swung his cleaver in a wide arc, catching Lyssa's barrier just in time. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, but the mage held firm, her feet digging into the wet earth, defiant.
Laverna leapt.
She struck from above, both jamadhars plunging toward the warlord's throat. He caught her midair with a backhand, slamming her into the ground. Dust erupted. Bones cracked. Her body rebounded off a shattered column, and for a moment, all was still.
But she rose.
Her necklace pulsed brighter.
The rain around her stopped.
It hovered midair, suspended like a breath held too long. Time seemed to slow. The air became electric, the battlefield silenced by her defiance. Her scars burned, her muscles trembled, but her soul stood resolute.
The warlord advanced, blade raised.
Laverna roared.
Her crest blazed through the rain—a luminous sigil on her lower abdomen, bright enough to shame the storm. Her jamadhars vibrated, a keening whine erupting from their enchanted cores. The storm itself responded, wind funneling into her form.
She charged.
Every movement now was a blur. Her blades struck faster than lightning, carving through enchanted steel. The warlord roared again, swinging his cleaver in a desperate arc, but Laverna ducked under it and drove her jamadhar into his gut. The weapon churned.
The scream he gave was inhuman.
Then Lyssa raised both hands to the sky.
"Now, Laverna!"
The mage released a storm spell that she'd been weaving throughout the battle. A bolt of divine lightning fell like the wrath of heaven, slamming into the warlord's exposed back. The air cracked and sizzled with divine fury.
Laverna twisted her blades and tore free.
The warlord exploded into black mist.
Rain resumed.
The battle was over.
Laverna dropped to one knee, blood dripping from her jaw. Her breath came in shallow bursts. Lyssa was at her side a moment later, whispering healing chants, her hands glowing softly, mending torn flesh and shattered bone.
But Laverna's eyes weren't on the battlefield.
They were distant.
She felt something.
A tremor through the bond. A strain. Her connection to Shin flared with pain, echoing with sorrow and fire. She saw a flash—an altar, an ancient mask, his bloodied hand. The image seared into her mind.
She pressed a hand over her abdomen where the crest burned hotter than ever.
"Shin..."
Lyssa looked at her. "What is it?"
Laverna stood slowly. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she didn't stop.
"He's in pain. I felt it. Something happened at the shrine."
Lyssa furrowed her brow. "Do we go back?"
Laverna shook her head. "No. We finish this first. We free the West. Then I go to him."
She looked down at her necklace. It flickered, glowing softly. Its pulse mirrored her heartbeat.
"I promised him. I would fight until the very end. Not because he saved me. But because I chose to believe in him."
Lyssa nodded. "Then we light the beacon. Let the others know the west is ours."
They began ascending the temple ruins. At the highest spire, the old beacon tower still stood. Lyssa enchanted the brazier with a spell of everlasting flame, and Laverna lit it with her storm-imbued jamadhar.
A pillar of blue fire rose into the storm, visible for miles.
The West was free.
As they descended, a voice echoed through the ruins.
Mocking. Cold. Familiar.
A Renegade stepped from the shadows, cloak torn, eyes gleaming with malice. His presence cut through the mist like a blade.
"Ah, the dog and the mage. So fierce. So faithful."
Laverna raised her blades without hesitation.
"Speak your last words."
But the Renegade only grinned.
"You fight for a man who once followed tradition and darkness. Did he tell you that? Did your precious Shin share what happened when the Soma Clan fell?"
Laverna didn't flinch.
"He told me everything."
The Renegade laughed. "No. Not everything. Ask him what he did in the Crystal Culling. Ask him how many of his friends and family he left behind. How many screams he silenced with silence of his own."
Laverna lunged, but the Renegade vanished into smoke.
Only his voice remained.
"Even the brightest storm can't cleanse the deepest sins."
The ruins fell silent again.
Lyssa's brows furrowed. "What was he talking about?"
Laverna clenched her fists.
"Doesn't matter. I know who Shin is now. That's enough."
The wind shifted.
The beacon's flame crackled in the storm, casting its light toward the east. Toward Shin. Toward the next battle. Toward the truth that would not stay buried much longer.
And behind them, the liberated western land breathed again, witnessing a new dawn rising from the ashes of a thousand storms.