"Their right flank has collapsed," he reports, voice lifeless. "Commander Evrard is dead. I took his head myself."
"And the remaining Light Court leaders?" I ask, scanning the battlefield for signs of organized resistance.
"Still regrouping. Their commanders are in disarray without my father's leadership." Zoran's knuckles whiten around his sword hilt. "They didn't expect to fight without him."
I nod, savage satisfaction coursing through me. "With Taren dead and their right flank collapsed, victory is ours."
"Nothing is inevitable," a familiar female voice cuts through the din of battle.
I turn to find Elçin approaching, dragging a wounded Light Court commander by his hair. Her silver armor is splattered with so much blood it appears painted, and a fresh cut bisects her left eyebrow, sending a rivulet of crimson down her cheek. She looks utterly feral—and completely in her element.
"This one claims the Light Court has a contingency plan," she says, throwing the man to his knees before us. "Tell them what you told me."
The commander—young, probably in his first major battle—looks up with defiant eyes despite the fear radiating from him in waves. "Kill me if you want, shadow scum. It won't change what's coming."
My shadows coil around him, tightening like serpents preparing to strike. "What's coming?" I ask softly, my voice a dangerous purr.
He spits blood at my feet. "Our victory."
I laugh, the sound carrying across the battlefield like a death knell. "Look around you," I gesture to the carnage, to his fallen comrades, to the advancing shadow forces crushing what remains of the Light Court army. "This is what defeat looks like. Perhaps you need spectacles."
"This is what distraction looks like," he counters, a smile twisting his bloodied lips.
Before I can respond, a blinding flash of golden light erupts from the center of the Light Court's remaining forces. The shockwave knocks soldiers from both sides off their feet, and a searing heat washes over the battlefield like dragon's breath.
"What the fuck was that?" Zoran demands, shielding his eyes.
"Light magic," I growl, my shadows instinctively coiling tighter around me. "Powerful light magic."
"Not just any light magic," Elçin says grimly. "That's concentrated solar binding—old magic, the kind that can permanently damage shadow wielders."
As if to confirm her words, agonized screams rise from our front lines where shadow soldiers nearest to the blast are literally disintegrating, their darkness burned away by golden flame.
"They're targeting our shadow legions," Emir realizes. "This is why they've been falling back—they were positioning us for this attack."
I turn to the commander, who is now laughing despite his wounds. With one fluid motion, I drive my shadow-blade through his throat, silencing him permanently. "Delightful. I do so enjoy dramatic reveals that come with attempted genocide."
"Get me to whoever's casting that spell," I order, wiping blood from my face. "Now."
"You can't approach that light head-on," Elçin warns. "It'll burn through your shadows like they're nothing."
"Then we don't go head-on," I reply, already striding toward the chaos. "Emir, gather what remains of our eastern cavalry. Zoran, take your archers to the ridge and provide cover. Banu?—"
"Already here," she says, materializing at my side, her hands still faintly glowing from healing work. "Neslihan's stable. What do you need?"
Her expression is cold and focused—all business, none of her usual irreverence.
"I need you to find a way through their defensive line," I tell her. "Something small, something they won't notice."
A blade-edged grin curves her lips. "I already have." She points to a narrow ravine cutting through the eastern slope. "Their left flank is stretched thin there. Three commanders maintain a shield wall, but they're exhausted. I can feel it."
"Perfect." I turn to Emir. "Take twenty of our best and follow Banu. When she creates an opening, strike hard and fast. Your target is whoever's casting that light spell."
"And if it's another Light Court lord?" Emir asks.
"Then today's your lucky day," I reply with a cold smile. "You get to add 'lord-slayer' to your increasingly impressive list of titles. Emir the Grim, Emir the Merciless, Emir Who Never Laughs at My Jokes."
"I laugh at your jokes when they're funny, my lord."
