Chapter 31 – The Last Gate
Gildcrest Fortress loomed over the northern mountains like a slumbering titan—its towers carved into granite cliffs, its walls veined with glowing aura wards left behind by the first Swordbearers. It was the last true stronghold before the borderlands. If it fell, the Luther Clan's heartlands would be vulnerable to Sylas... and worse.
Jean landed on the upper battlements just before dawn, her divine wings folding behind her in a shimmer of golden fire. Soldiers gasped. Veterans dropped to one knee. The Emissary of Light had arrived.
Commander Yren, grizzled and bloodied, rushed forward. "Lady Luther—we didn't think you'd make it."
"I'm not here to think," Jean said. "I'm here to hold."
Yren nodded. "Scouts say Sylas marches with five thousand—siege beasts, aura-breakers, even mercenaries from the Shadow Guild."
"Then we hold until he breaks," Jean said. "Or we break him."
Within hours, Jean had taken command.
Silvia and reinforcements were en route, but until then, she had only nine hundred tired soldiers, one damaged aura cannon, and a single hour to prepare.
Jean turned to Whitney as they stood over the battlefield maps.
"If Sylas captures Gildcrest, he surrounds Luthmere and chokes us out. We lose the war before the real one begins."
Whitney growled. "Then we make this fortress our line in the sand."
Jean drew Radiant Fang, its blade glowing with new energy from her bonded armor. "Let's remind them why dragons once feared this family."
By midday, Sylas Luther arrived.
He stood atop a ridge, dark armor reflecting the grey sun, his blade pulsing with corrupted aura. At his side rode two Magistery war mages—proof of his growing alliance.
He sent a single message forward on a black-feathered arrow:
> "Surrender the gate, little sister. Or drown in your light."
Jean didn't bother replying with words.
Instead, she launched skyward.
The battle erupted.
Jean descended like a falling star, tearing through siege lines with blade and wing. Whitney, howling in divine form, shattered siege beasts with his jaws. Arrows couldn't touch her. Magic faltered before her aura.
But Sylas was no fool.
He unleashed the Ash Reavers, mercenaries of the Shadow Guild wielding aura-nullifying weapons, and loosed corrupted wyrms bound in chains.
The walls shook.
Soldiers fell.
Jean's armor cracked under the strain.
But still she rose.
Still she fought.
Until finally, she came face to face with Sylas himself on the southern wall, amidst ruin and fire.
"Surrender," he growled. "You are outmatched."
Jean's eyes blazed. "I am chosen."
Their blades clashed with the force of thunder.
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