The night air shattered with the sound of the war horn.
Selene's breath caught as the ruins trembled beneath the weight of an approaching force. Shadows moved beyond the crumbling walls—figures cloaked in darkness, their weapons glinting in the moonlight.
The Order had arrived.
A flicker of movement caught her eye—Orion, already unsheathing his sword. Beside him, Cassius cracked his knuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the tension.
"Well," Cassius muttered. "That didn't take long."
Selene turned to Marisol. "How many fighters do we have?"
Marisol's expression remained calm, but her voice was grave. "Not enough."
Selene clenched her fists. No army. No fortress. Only ruins and the will to survive.
The first arrow whistled through the air.
She didn't have time to think.
The first wave came swift and merciless. The Order's soldiers moved in formation, their armor catching the firelight as they surged forward. Trained. Disciplined. Merciless.
Selene barely had time to draw her blade before an enemy lunged at her. She twisted, deflecting the blow, her muscles reacting before her mind could catch up. Instinct.
She fought like she had done this before.
Like she had lived this war in another lifetime.
Orion moved like a shadow beside her, every strike calculated, every movement precise. Cassius fought with reckless grace, a dagger in each hand, dodging and weaving between his foes.
But the Order's numbers were overwhelming.
Selene turned, eyes scanning the battlefield, heart pounding. They couldn't win in open combat.
They had to outthink their enemy.
She caught sight of the crumbling archway near the eastern wall—the perfect bottleneck.
"Fall back!" she shouted. "To the ruins!"
Some hesitated. Others followed without question. Orion caught on immediately, calling out orders.
They moved, luring the enemy into the narrow passage. Forcing them into close quarters.
And then—
Cassius grinned. "Now?"
Selene nodded. "Now."
He lit the fuse.
A deafening boom split the air as an explosion tore through the archway. Stone crumbled, dust filled the night, and the Order's forces were cut off—trapped or buried beneath the rubble.
A moment of stunned silence.
Then—cheers from the survivors.
They had won the first strike.
But Selene knew this was only the beginning.
As dawn broke over the ruined kingdom, Selene stood on the broken steps of what had once been a palace. Blood stained the ground. Smoke curled from the remains of the battle.
They had survived.
But for how long?
Marisol approached, her gaze heavy with unspoken words. "They will return," she said. "Stronger."
Selene nodded, gripping the hilt of her sword. "Then we'll be ready."
Marisol studied her for a long moment. Then, finally—a nod.
For the first time, it wasn't just the weight of a crown that Selene felt.
It was the weight of a war.
And she was ready to fight it.