Chapter 32 – Brother of Ash, Sister of Flame
The walls of Gildcrest blazed with firelight and blood.
Above the chaos, Jean and Sylas clashed on the highest rampart—steel against steel, aura against corrupted flame. The storm above mirrored their fury, lightning dancing across the sky as if the heavens themselves bore witness to their feud.
Sylas struck first, driving his dark greatsword in a brutal arc. Jean parried, her body singing with aura from her divine armor, wings spread wide behind her like a solar phoenix.
"Still hiding behind the gods, little sister?" Sylas sneered. "Still pretending this war is about honor?"
Jean slid under his blade and countered with a radiant slash that cracked the stone beneath them. "It's not about honor," she said, voice like ringing bells. "It's about what's left when everything else burns."
They moved like blurs—each strike enough to level a squad, each clash of their aura sending shockwaves across the battlefield.
Below them, Whitney battled a chained wyrm, ripping through its iron bindings.
Cassien held the southern gate with a fractured shield and bleeding arm, refusing to fall.
Kael led a charge from the rear, rallying flagging morale.
But Jean and Sylas—they were the storm.
"You were always our father's favorite," Sylas spat, blood in his teeth. "Always protected. Worshipped. You don't deserve the Luther name!"
Jean's blade burst into divine fire. "Then I'll carry it for those who can't!"
Their final clash sent both flying back—Jean skidding across cracked stone, Sylas crashing through the tower wall behind him.
And then—
A horn.
A deep, thunderous horn from the east.
Silvia had arrived.
Her crimson aura lit up the horizon, cutting through the smoke like dawn itself.
Behind her, five hundred elite swordsmen of the Crimson Guard charged into the fray, overwhelming Sylas's flanks and severing the Shadow Guild mercenaries from his command lines.
Sylas rose to his feet, glaring at Jean.
"This isn't over."
Jean's wings ignited.
"No," she said, "it's just beginning."
She charged again—one final blow that sent Sylas crashing from the wall into the battlefield below. He vanished in the smoke, his forces retreating in disarray.
The battle was won.
Barely.
Jean stood over the blood-soaked stones, Radiant Fang buried in the earth, her wings flickering weakly. Her body trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of what was coming.
Gildcrest held.
But war was only just awakening.
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