Cold wind cut across the Southland shore like a blade looking for skin.
The army stood ready. Rows of dark armor, breath fogging in the air, weapons gleaming dull under a sky the color of old iron. Their general stood apart from them, eyes locked on the horizon, on the lands waiting beyond it.
A soldier jogged up. Saluted hard.
"The army is ready, General. We await your command."
The general turned. Cold face. Voice flat but it carried, cutting through the wind to every soldier in formation.
"Good." A pause. "The Emperor has given his orders. We march forward, but remember—we are to minimize our losses. Inform the spear general to avoid unnecessary conflict. The Emperor's message is clear."
The soldier saluted again, vanished into the ranks.
Their goal wasn't slaughter. Precision. Control. Bloodshed would happen, sure, but it wasn't the point.
Boots hit frozen ground. Thousands of them, all at once, the sound rolling out across the shore like something alive. The Northland army moved as one. Disciplined. Terrifying in how quiet they were about it.
War was coming for the Southland.
They had no idea.
Kairoth stood at the cliff's edge, sword hilt cold under his palm.
He didn't need magic. Years of battles had given him something better, something that didn't run out halfway through a fight. His eyes tracked his men below, calculating, always calculating.
Behind him, Seiryn lounged on a low stone wall like the whole thing was a picnic. Wine glass in hand. Robes shifting in the wind.
"Are you enjoying the view?" she asked, voice light.
He didn't turn.
"I'm watching my men prepare for war. It's not exactly a time for enjoyment."
She laughed softly and took another sip.
"Oh, Kairoth, you're always so serious. A battle is just another moment in time, another ripple in the flow of things. Why not enjoy it?"
"Because lives are at stake, Seiryn." His gaze didn't move from the shore. "Your magic might protect you, but down there, it's blood and steel. I don't have the luxury of detachment."
She shrugged. Finished the wine.
"Perhaps that's why we're a good match. You deal with the harsh reality, and I make sure we don't get buried in it. When things get too... physical," her fingers crackled, faint sparks of something elemental,
"I step in."
Kairoth said nothing for a moment. Thought about the orders. The plan.
"I trust you'll do more than just watch with your wine when the time comes."
"Of course." Her eyes gleamed. "When the storm hits, Kairoth, I'll be right beside you... making sure we stay on top."
He grunted. That was the thing about Seiryn. Lazy until she wasn't, and when she wasn't, you wanted her on your side.
Then the whistle came.
A streak of light tore down from the sky, bright enough to wash out the dusk for a heartbeat. Kairoth's stomach dropped before his brain caught up.
On the ridge, a silhouette stood with one arm raised against the darkening sky. Ashelia. Spear General. The javelin in her hand wasn't metal; it was raw magic given shape, volatile and screaming with energy.
She threw it.
It came down like a falling star and hit the enemy line with a force that shook the ground under everyone's feet, Kairoth included.
His jaw tightened. "I told her to wait." Smoke rolled up from the impact site. "We needed precision, not destruction."
Seiryn leaned back, smiling at the flames. "Looks like Ashelia got a bit eager. Always does."
"I don't need enthusiasm. I need discipline. That blast could've taken out more of our own men than the enemy."
"Relax, Kairoth. The woman knows what she's doing. She's been throwing those magic javelins longer than you've held that sword."
He let out a breath through his teeth. Below, the army surged forward through the smoke, using the chaos Ashelia had carved into the enemy's defenses. Reckless. Effective.
Far off, Ashelia stood admiring her own handiwork for a second before turning. Hair whipping in the wind. Another javelin already forming in her grip, humming.
"I told them I'd clear the way," she murmured.
Kairoth felt it building. "Seiryn, you'd better get ready. This is about to get a lot messier."
She stood. Dusted off her robes. Smiled. "Good. It was getting a bit dull."
The war had started.