The days after the battle blurred into one long stretch of meetings, strategic discussions, and preparations. The capital was secure, but Althar knew that this was only temporary. The darkness that had been unleashed wasn't something that would simply vanish. No, it was a lingering threat, like a storm on the horizon, waiting to strike when least expected.
As the leader of the kingdom, Althar had no choice but to remain vigilant. His advisors were busy reinforcing the capital's defenses, while the mages sought to understand the magic that had been used against them. But Althar had other concerns on his mind—something that had been gnawing at him since the battle.
The woman.
He couldn't get her out of his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—her dark eyes, her cryptic words, her calm demeanor in the face of impossible odds. She had been right about so many things, but he still didn't understand what she truly wanted from him. She had spoken of a power, a force older than time itself, something that could reshape reality. But why had she chosen him? What was his connection to this ancient magic?
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Enter."
The door opened, revealing Rorek, his trusted general. The man's face was grim, his posture rigid.
"Your Majesty," Rorek said, bowing slightly. "We've received troubling reports from the western borders. There's movement—large groups of creatures, similar to the ones we encountered before. They're heading toward the kingdom."
Althar's eyes narrowed. Not again.
"Are they following the same pattern?" Althar asked, his voice steady but filled with underlying urgency.
"Yes, Your Majesty. The creatures are behaving in the same manner. It appears they're being guided by someone—or something. The magic we've detected is unlike anything we've ever encountered. It's... foreign, almost as if it's trying to bridge different realms."
Althar felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The mage from the battle hadn't been alone in his search for power. Whoever was behind these attacks was just as dangerous, and their intentions were unclear.
"How long until they arrive?" Althar asked, his gaze distant as he thought about their next move.
"Three days, if they maintain their current pace. The mages at the border are holding them off for now, but their numbers are growing."
Althar's mind raced. Three days wasn't much time to prepare, especially if the creatures were being guided by a powerful force. But what was the source of that force? And what did it want with the kingdom?
"I will lead the defense," Althar declared, his voice firm. "Gather the forces. Prepare the mages. We leave at dawn."
Rorek hesitated for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Your Majesty, I must advise against it. We can't risk—"
"I will lead the defense," Althar repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The people need to see their king on the front lines. We cannot afford to appear weak."
Rorek nodded stiffly. "As you command, Your Majesty."
The morning of departure arrived quickly. Althar stood on the steps of the palace, looking out over the soldiers who had gathered to march. His forces were strong, but the fear in their eyes was palpable. They knew what they were up against—and they were terrified.
Althar had always led from the front. In his past life, he had been a warrior king, respected and feared by his enemies. But in this life, things were different. The emotions he had long buried were surfacing, and they were clouding his judgment. He wasn't just fighting for his kingdom anymore; he was fighting for something deeper, something more personal.
He turned to Rorek, who was standing beside him, his armor gleaming in the sunlight. "What do you think is behind this?" Althar asked quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon.
Rorek's expression darkened. "I fear we are dealing with something far greater than we realize, Your Majesty. The creatures we've faced are unlike any we've seen before. And the magic they wield... it's as if it's not of this world."
Althar nodded, his mind turning. If the magic wasn't of this world, then where was it from? And why was it focused on his kingdom?
He couldn't shake the feeling that everything—the battles, the creatures, the strange magic—was leading to something bigger. A confrontation with an ancient force that sought to reshape the world. But what part did he play in this? And why had he been chosen?
As the troops marched toward the western borders, Althar's mind remained focused, his resolve solidifying. He would protect his kingdom. He would protect his people. But in the back of his mind, the question lingered: What kind of king would he become in this battle?
The journey took most of the day. The landscape around them grew more desolate as they moved westward, the lush greenery of the capital giving way to dry, barren plains. Althar could feel the tension in the air, the weight of impending conflict pressing down on them. The mages had reported an increase in magical disturbances, and the further they traveled, the more Althar could sense it.
By the time they reached the border, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the field. The mages had set up a temporary camp, and the air was thick with the hum of magic as they prepared for the impending attack.
Althar stood at the edge of the camp, staring into the distance. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the faint sound of movement—something large, something approaching.
"Your Majesty," Rorek said, his voice low as he approached. "The scouts have confirmed it. The creatures are coming."
Althar nodded. "Prepare the defenses. I'll lead the charge."
As he turned to walk toward the front lines, he felt it again—the tugging sensation deep inside him. It was faint, but unmistakable. That same pull he had felt during the battle with the mage, that connection to something far greater than himself.
This power… this magic… it's inside me.
Althar didn't know what it was, or where it came from, but he was beginning to understand that it was a part of him. Whether he liked it or not, he was tied to this world's fate. And if he was to protect it, he would have to face whatever was coming with everything he had.
"Are you ready?" a voice asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
Althar turned to see the woman standing before him. She had appeared again, as she always did in moments of great uncertainty.
"I'm ready," he said, his voice filled with a quiet determination. "For my kingdom, for my people, and for whatever comes next."
The woman's eyes studied him, as if searching for something deep within. Then, with a faint smile, she nodded. "Then you are ready, Althar. The path ahead will not be easy, but you will not walk it alone."
With that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Althar with his thoughts and a growing sense of purpose. The battle was about to begin. And this time, he was ready to face it—head-on, no matter what the future held.