The War Begins
The world was changing.
The Crimson Reavers were breaking apart. Cities fell, fortresses burned, and the tales of the Ashen Dominion spread as fast as fire consumes everything in its path.
At its center was Regis, the Eternal Conqueror.
His dominion no longer a scrapping power barely holding on to existence. It was a foregone conclusion.
And now the Reavers would be forgotten.
Duskrend Keep – The War Council
The chamber of Duskrend Keep was charged with an air of tension.
Regis sat at the head of the massive obsidian war table, surrounded by his most trusted commanders. The soft candlelight flickered over the intricately etched war map, where carved miniature soldiers represented troop dispositions, supply lines, and strategic strongholds.
Elyndra, her hard violet eyes locked on the map, tapped a dagger against the table.
"Vael's got something in store for us. He's not the type to sit back and watch us tear his armies in two."
Kaelen leaned back from his seat, forearms on his thighs. His smile was wolfish, cold.
"It won't matter. We've already shattered half his kingdom. What in heaven's name can he do?"
Varian, always the master strategist, cleaned his spectacles. "A cornered beast is the most deadly type. We must prepare for desperate tactics."
Regis said nothing, tapping fingers on wood.
He could feel it. The Reavers were stumbling, but desperate men had no losses left to lose.
But it would not be necessary.
Because he had already decided the fate of this war.
He inhaled slowly.
"We will not let them regroup."
He placed his hand on the map.
"We leave tonight."
A surge of excitement swept through the room.
"Blackthorn Keep will fall before dawn."
The Night Raid – Blackthorn Keep
Blackthorn Keep was a fortress built to ward off armies.
Thick stone walls. Towers with arrows sprouting from every window. Siege defenses along the ramparts.
And yet, while the moon rode high in the sky. it was already lost.
The attack came from within.
Elyndra's assassins, their faces daubed as merchants and travelers, had entered the keep weeks earlier.
And on this night, they stalked the shadows.
Blades flashed in the dark. Guards dropped with little more than a sigh.
Oil was poured into storerooms, barracks, and armories.
Then, as the Reaver commanders gathered in the great hall for their evening conclave—
The fire began.
Blazes raged through Blackthorn Keep, consuming entire wings of the fortress.
Panic swept like plague.
Reaver troops stumbled out of their barracks, swords half-pulled, faces twisted with confusion.
And then—
The gates creaked open.
Beyond, waiting like a silent storm, was the Ashen Dominion.
Regis rode his black warhorse, crimson cloak streaming in the night breeze.
His troops stood behind him, a wave of steel and flame.
Kaelen, at his side, smiled. "They're already shattered."
Regis lifted one hand.
Then, in a tone as chilly as death—
"Forward."
The Battle for Blackthorn Keep
The Ashen soldiers pushed forward.
It wasn't a battle that followed.
It was a massacre.
The Reavers, confused by smoke and confusion, could hardly offer any resistance.
Kaelen spearheaded the front line, his sword slicing through armor as if it were butter.
Varian's archers unleashed hell, their arrows darkening the sky.
And Regis?
He was a force of nature.
He strode across the battlefield like a storm in flesh.
His sword sliced through flesh and steel alike.
A Reaver captain charged him, bellowing.
Regis sidestepped—his sword passed through the man's throat in one smooth motion.
Another struck from behind—a flick of his wrist plunged a dagger into his heart.
Within hours, the fortress was his.
By dawn, Blackthorn Keep was a memory.
Crushing the Reavers' Will
The remaining Reaver commanders were dragged before Regis, bound in chains.
Among them was Rhogar, Vael's second-in-command.
Bloodied but unbroken, Rhogar spat at Regis's feet. "You think this is victory? You've won nothing."
Regis tilted his head.
Then, he snapped his fingers.
A soldier stepped forward, holding a blood-stained crest.
Rhogar's eyes widened.
Regis spoke, voice calm as death itself.
"Your family has already sworn loyalty to me. You, however… are unnecessary."
Kaelen's blade flashed.
Rhogar's body fell to the ground.
The other prisoners dropped to their knees.
Regis smiled.
"You serve me now. Or you die."
The Reavers' Counterattack
Three days later, Lord Vael counterattacked.
An army of ten thousand advanced on Blackthorn Keep.
Regis stood on the battlements, his expressionless face set.
Kaelen grinned. "Ten thousand men, and not one will ever see home again."
Regis sighed.
Then, he gave the order.
The Bloodfields of Blackthorn
The battle raged on for hours.
Flaming arrows ripped the sky apart.
Siege engines boomed.
The Reavers launched a wild, frantic charge.
And the Ashen Dominion broke them.
Elyndra's assassins struck in darkness, silencing officers before they could issue commands.
Kaelen's cavalry smashed through enemy ranks like a tempest.
And then—
Regis went out into battle.
Dark armor. Red mantle. A sword that cut through body and spirit with equal facility.
His very presence shattered enemy morale.
His attacks were flawless, lovely, effortless.
A Reaver knight, mad, hit Regis on the head with his greatsword.
Regis wrapped the blade in his bare hand.
And crushed it.
The knight staggered back, eyes wide with terror.
Regis drove him through without saying a word.
By sundown, the Reavers no longer existed.
The Endgame Begins
Regis summoned his war council.
"Vael will fall back to his last stronghold. He will defend it, make his last stand."
Varian nodded. "He will try to ensnare us in a long siege."
Regis's smile was cold.
"Then we won't give him that."
He addressed Elyndra.
"Send our agents ahead. I want all weakness mapped."
To Kaelen—
"Muster the main force. At dawn, we move."
To the entire room—
"In one week, the Reavers no longer will be."
And on that, the final act of this war was played out.