Leukos advanced on the gate, the North Wind’s power thrumming in his veins—an unstoppable force. So long as he kept it under control, Nik’s Mark wouldn’t react. And Theo’s plan would work.
Dozens more soldiers flooded the courtyard, pressing shoulder to shoulder with the archers, their eyes wide with mounting dread.
“Capture the prince!” the cohort leader roared from the platform. “Kill the others!”
The Rasennans charged, a wall of bodies rushing forward, and Leukos smirked. They outnumbered him, but numbers meant little against the ice storm in his veins. They were men with swords and shields; he was winter’s wrath made flesh. It was unfair, really, but fairness wasn’t something Leukos concerned himself with.
Frost exploded outwards from his boots, racing across the ground like a living serpent. It slithered through the gates, climbed the wooden stakes of the barricade, and froze the gate wide open. Around him, icicles swelled, spinning faster until they became a glittering cyclone—a deadly, sparkling vortex shielding his body.
The soldiers faltered, eyes darting between the creeping frost and lethal ring of shards.
Too late.
Leukos raised his hand, and the icicles shot forward with lethal precision, piercing every inch of exposed flesh. Faces, arms, legs—no part was spared. Soldiers collapsed where they stood, some dead instantly, others writhing on the ground, their screams tearing through the air.
The entrance courtyard dissolved into chaos, the once-confident Rasennans reduced to bodies scattered in the wake of Leukos’ cold fury. He didn’t bother counting the dead—only hoped his devastation had thinned their numbers enough.
Drawing his sword, he rushed to the palisade, boots crunching on frozen ground as he moved to execute the next phase of Theo’s plan.
The urgent blare of horns split the air just as Pelagios thundered: “Charge!”
The Achaeans surged forward like a breaking wave, war cries splitting the sky as they slammed into fresh Rasennans ranks pouring towards the gate.
Leukos pressed his hand to the rough timber, letting magic surge through him like a flood breaking loose. Frost streaked along the stakes, ice spreading rapidly, encasing the wall in a thick, gleaming shell. Now the entire camp would be on high alert. The rest of the cohort would rush to the gate, giving Danaos and the others the opening they needed to free the prisoners. With luck, some soldiers might break rank and flee into the forest, convinced the battle was already lost.
And in truth, it was.
Pelagios, at the forefront, raised his arm high. A shimmering round shield appeared in his grasp, its silver surface blazing with the Sea God’s power. Every glint of light refracted into blinding beams, forcing the Rasennans to protect their eyes, their defenceunravelling. Pelagios was a beacon of strength, Achaean soldiers rallying behind him as he cleaved a path with brutal precision, his shield deflecting blow after blow.
Nik, in contrast, was a deadly blur—darting through chaos like a shadow. He slipped past the Rasennans’ shield wall, his impossible speed leaving opponents reeling. One by one, they fell, the line buckling under his relentless assault. Every fallen soldier opened another gap for the Achaeans to exploit.
Leukos crossed to the far side of the gate, breath settling into a steady rhythm. His control still held—for now—and he meant to keep it. He set both palms to the timber, frost crackling from his fingertips, racing over the stakes. He reined the torrent in, forcing it to spread until the barricade swelled into a thick, gleaming wall of ice. The Rasennans were trapped, their only choices to fight through the gate or flee into the forest.
A glance over his shoulder showed fresh enemy ranks pressing behind the shield wall, an unending tide straining against the Achaean line. Pelagios, Theo, and the others held firm, but fifty men could only withstand so much.
“Leukos!” Nik’s shout cut through the clash of steel. Leukos spotted him a short distance away, armour spattered with blood, locked in combat with half a dozen Rasennans. Encircled, their blades darting from every angle, Nik was being driven back. “A little help, please!”
Leukos released the palisade and sprinted to him. The first soldier in his path barely registered the threat before Leukos’ sword cleaved through his thigh. Another lunged; one vicious thrust drove steel through the man’s neck, hot blood spraying as he crumpled—buying Nik a heartbeat’s reprieve.
Without breaking stride, ice shimmered into being, jagged shards forming in the air. A Rasennan grabbed his arm, but the moment contact was made, the limb froze solid, frost crawling up to the elbow. With a sickeningcrack, it shattered. Thesoldier’s scream split the air as fragments of his hand fell to the ground.
Leukos didn’t spare the soldier another glance, his focus already on the Rasennan shield wall.
“Get behind me!” he barked at Nik. The frost swirling around him spread outwards, a deadly chill gripping the battlefield.
The Rasennans hesitated, fear flickering, their formation breaking. Seizing the opening, Leukos raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the icicles spun skywards, arcing high before plummeting down with lethal precision.
The soldiers never stood a chance. Jagged ice tore through armour and flesh alike, leaving mangled bodies strewn across the frozen ground.
Blood roared in Leukos’ ears, his vision tunnelling. Raw magic flooded his veins, every heartbeat a struggle for control. Pain throbbed in his skull, power pressing against his will, threatening to burst free and consume him.
More ice. More destruction.
He drove himself harder, determined to obliterate everything in his path. The Rasennans had shown his family no mercy—nor the villages they razed—and he would return that cruelty in kind.
There would be no failure. They had come for Alena, and he would freeze the entire valley if that was what it took to protect her.
His vision swam, black spots creeping at the edges. Something warm trickled from his nose—and then everything went dark.
