The air in the command position crackled with tension as Amelia stood before the assembled officers. Her purple eyes glowed as she tracked every movement across the constantly updated maps. Moments earlier, a pulse of golden light washed over the camp, causing gasps of awe and murmurs to ripple through the ranks as they recognized the Grand Marshal’s power. Now, Hassel’s wards flickered like a guttering flame, emboldening the revolutionaries.

  Amelia allowed herself a single, fleeting smile. She did not doubt that Leonard would succeed, but it was good that he was following the schedule.

  It’d be awkward if the surprise got here too early.

  “Send word to the Mage Corps,” she ordered, causing a hush to fall. “Prepare the layered shields. They’ll respond with artillery first while they try to stabilize the wards.”

  No one asked why they were not attacking while the protections were so weak, which went to show that granting a basic magical education even to those who’d never delve into the mysteries was smart. Failing wards unleashed their remaining power in a destructive wave, and Hassel’s still had enough to turn the surrounding region to ash. They needed to weaken them first.

  The officers scrambled to relay her orders, runners sprinted from the tent while diviners relayed her commands to the far edges of the camp.

  Amelia spread her senses over the battlefield to ensure nothing was amiss. The Revolutionary Army bristled with anticipation. Soldiers adjusted their gear, preparing for the final battle of Hetnia’s campaign. Gunners checked their machines with great devotion. The orcs waited until they could wet their blade with ill-concealed anticipation. Within minutes, the Mage Corps formed ranks at the front. Their focus was palpable as they began weaving their protections, crafting barriers of translucent light with great speed.

  Then it began.

  The first volley came without warning, and the deafening roar of cannons split the morning air. The ground shook as dozens—then hundreds—of shells screamed toward them, momentarily blotting out the sun.

  “Shields up!” Amelia barked, amplifying her voice.

  The Mage Corps responded in unison. Spells flared to life, and layered domes of protective light enveloped the army. The first impacts hit like thunderclaps, fiery explosions blossoming against the shields. Thousands of spells and cannon fire slammed into the barriers in a relentless cascade, causing the ground beneath the soldiers’ feet to quake.

  Leonard once said that being under shields during a bombardment was like beholding the aurora. Looking up now, Amelia saw the same sight: waves of light, refracting and shimmering as they absorbed the devastating assault. The shields held.

  Amelia didn’t move, even as another salvo struck, and the impacts echoed like hammer blows. She kept her focus on the enemy’s movements, racing through the necessary calculations for her part. The wards were weakening further, their glow dimming with every volley. The defenders knew it, too; the intensity of their fire suggested desperation.

  They still will last for a week under what our gunners can unleash, but Pollus knows our means are not so limited. If we could attack freely, they’d be depleted within a day.

  A junior officer approached, saluting smartly. “Mage Corps reports all shields stable, ma’am. No breaches.”

  “Good,” Amelia said, her tone brisk. “Now it’s our turn.”

  She turned to the artillery commander, a grizzled man named Vardek. His face was already split in a fierce grin, anticipation lighting his eyes.

  “Commander, let’s remind Hassel of who we are. Begin the counter-barrage.”

  “With pleasure, General.” Vardek barked orders to his crews, who eagerly followed.

  The Revolutionary Army’s artillery roared to life. Cannons, mage-ballistae, and arcane siege engines fired in unison, their payloads streaking toward the city’s walls like comets. Spells followed closely behind in intricate, collaborative weaves designed to punch through wards and devastate fortifications. The air itself seemed to ignite as the barrage lit up the battlefield.

  Amelia watched as the first impacts struck Hassel’s flickering wards. The city’s defenses groaned under the assault, and the once-pristine barriers were riddled with cracks that shimmered ominously. They were quickly patched, but their mere appearance meant things were dire indeed for the defenders.

  From her vantage point, she could see them scrambling atop the walls. They returned fire as best they could, but their efforts were disjointed and chaotic. The Revolutionaries’ coordinated strikes were taking their toll.

  “Report from the Mage Corps,” another runner called out breathlessly. “The shields are holding steady. Minor strain, nothing critical.”

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  “Excellent.” Amelia turned her attention back to the walls. “Maintain pressure. I want those wards on emergency power before midday.”

  The army’s artillery intensified, with each salvo hitting harder and faster than the last. The ground shook with its sheer force, and even from this distance, Amelia could see chunks of stone falling from Hassel’s outer fortifications from where Leonard’s spell had weakened them.

  She allowed herself a rare moment of satisfaction. The defenders were faltering, their advantage slipping away with every passing second. His gamble had provided them the opening they needed.

  Still, there was no room for complacency.

  “Signal the reserve mages to be ready for suppression spells,” she ordered, her gaze fixed on the city. “If the airfields mobilize their forces, I want them forced to expend their mana crystals before they can reach us.”

  Amelia felt a faint vibration beneath her feet as the runner sprinted away. She frowned and glanced toward the walls.

  As he expected, Pollus must have sent someone to restore the leyline. That means I need to earn some more time.

  Her gaze lingered on the walls for a moment longer before she turned to the officers beside her.

  “Keep the pressure constant,” she said. “Even if our reserves cross the halfway point, I want them forced to keep up with our rate.”

  The officers nodded determinedly and scattered to carry out her orders. She could have used shadows for this, but she was reserving her power for later.

  An hour later, the air was tense as Amelia paced the command tent. The distant thunder of the artillery barrage still rumbled, but its rhythm had changed—slower, measured. The walls of Hassel would hold a little longer. She expected the initial phase to last for a while, but the city was holding out more than she’d like. They seemed to have a surprising reserve of mages. Still, when an urgent ripple brushed against her senses, Amelia smiled.

  “Speak,” she commanded even before the shadowy figure had fully materialized in the corner of the room.

  The humanoid form of darkness bowed low. Its voice was a whisper, smooth and cold as silk. “The airships, my lady. Three of them have been mobilized. They will take to the skies within minutes, accompanied by Griffin Knights. They bring artillery sufficient to reduce this camp to ash.”

  Amelia relaxed and let out a slow breath, turning to Neer, her second-in-command.

  “Prepare the Mage Corps for focused counter-battery, but don’t let them overextend. Time is all we need.”

  Despite being a veteran and having walked into dozens of battles that killed many lesser warriors, Neer hesitated. “You don’t intend to face them alone, do you?”

  Amelia’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Of course I do. Who else can buy us the time we need?”

  Neer started to protest, but she raised a hand to silence her. “Your job is to keep the ground forces steady. Mine is to ensure those airships don’t level us before Leonard returns.”

  Without waiting for a reply, she strode from the tent, her shadow trailing behind her like a loyal hound.

  Soldiers paused in their preparations to watch her pass. She felt their gazes, the awe mere mortals held when faced with a being that could battle with what looked like gods to them, but she didn’t slow her stride.

  Only when she got to the edge of the camp, did she stop. She rose to her full height with a deep breath and summoned her connection to the Elemental King. The response was immediate, as she knew to expect—a wave of cold power surged through her veins, coiling around her like an old friend. Shadows rose at her feet, swirling and thickening into a cloak that enveloped her completely.

  It settled into armor-like tendrils that hugged her frame and a long, flowing mantle that rippled like liquid night. A mask of darkness obscured her features, leaving only her eyes visible, glowing faintly with an eerie purple light.

  She stepped into the air, rising without effort as a power beyond the ken of men buoyed her.

  The first airship breached the horizon like a rising sun—if the sun were a hulking mass of enchanted metal and wood. The King Vasily-Class vessels were marvels of engineering and magical prowess, their sheer size dwarfing even the largest siege engines. Wards shimmered around them in an impenetrable shell of arcane power. Two more followed, looming over the battlefield.

  Behind them came the Griffin Knights, their silver-armored riders glinting like falling stars.

  Amelia stopped, suspended midair, her cloak billowing around her as though it had a life of its own. She could feel the weight of their attention shifting to her, a single figure standing alone against Hetnia’s might.

  The lead airship fired first, its cannon blazing with fire-torching artillery. The shot streaked toward her as a molten mass of power that promised annihilation.

  Amelia raised her hand. The shadows surged forward, forming a barrier that consumed the attack entirely, leaving nothing but a faint ripple.

  Then she moved.

  She darted forward, a streak of shadow against the bright sky, closing the distance faster than the airships’ gunners could adjust. With a gesture, she sent a lance of darkness streaking toward the lead vessel. The ward flared, absorbing the impact with a brilliant flash of light.

  As expected. Amelia didn’t need to destroy them, only to keep them occupied.

  The Griffins swooped toward her, their riders launching spells and arrows in perfect coordination. Amelia twisted in the air, weaving through the barrage with ethereal agility. With a flick of her wrist, tendrils of shadow lashed out, striking several Knights from their mounts.

  And yet, more took their places.

  The second airship fired, its cannons releasing a salvo that turned the sky into a storm of fire and shrapnel. Amelia threw up her arms, and the shadows around her expanded into a massive dome shielding her from the worst of it.

  Her vision blurred momentarily, feeling her skull rattle as she absorbed it all, lest it vaporize a good chunk of the army’s defenses. Sweat beaded on her forehead beneath the mask, but she held firm.

  The third airship had drawn closer now, its guns swiveling to track her. She could see the crew moving inside, grimly preparing another volley.

  She dove toward it, moving faster than they could react. Her cloak extended, forming long, blade-like appendages. This time, she struck the ward directly, her shadow-blades raking against the magical barrier. Sparks flew, and the ward groaned but held.

  The Griffin Knights regrouped, circling her like a school of predators. She had no time to deal with them—her focus had to remain on the airships.

  Amelia reached deep within herself, calling upon the full extent of her pact with the Elemental King. Her voice rang out, cold and commanding, as she spoke the ancient words of power. “Progeny of the First Son, answer my call!"

  The sky darkened. Shadows stretched unnaturally, rising from the ground to form a swirling vortex around her. The Griffins veered away, their riders shouting in alarm.

  When the vortex burst, waves of darkness rippled outward, slamming into the airships and obscuring their sight for the briefest moments before the wards repelled her attack. It wasn’t enough to destroy them, but it was enough to force them to retreat, and their crews scrambled to recover.

  When they did, they found that a hundred flying shades now besieged their escort of Griffin Knights, leaving the airships to face her alone.

  Amelia hovered in the silence that followed, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. She could feel the strain of such a summons in her limbs, but she didn’t falter.

  This was a game of endurance. She didn’t need to win. She only needed to hold.

  Far below, she could see the Revolutionary Army organizing, preparing for the rain of fire that was to come.

  Amelia didn’t allow herself any more rest. She had a hunt to complete.