The gates shuddered.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
Each impact echoed through Ravenhold like a drum of war.
Below, the masked warriors pressed forward.
Relentless.
Unyielding.
They did not fear the arrows.
Did not falter at the dead.
They climbed over fallen bodies as if they were nothing.
As if they had always been nothing.
"Hold!" Halric shouted from the wall.
"Don't let them reach the top!"
A grappling hook struck the stone near one of the towers.
Then another.
Ropes followed.
Dark shapes began to climb.
Fast.
Too fast.
Corvyn moved.
A single step—
Then another—
Then he was there.
Nightfeather flashed.
The first climber fell.
Then the second.
A third reached the top—
Corvyn met him head-on.
Steel clashed.
A brief struggle—
Then silence as the man dropped.
But more came.
Always more.
Halric joined him.
Driving back another attacker with brute force.
"They don't stop!"
"They don't need to," Corvyn replied.
His blade turned another strike.
"They only need to break us once."
Below—
A crack split through the gate.
Loud.
Sharp.
Wood splintered.
Iron groaned.
The defenders braced behind it.
Spears lowered.
Shields locked.
"Brace!" someone shouted.
The impact came again.
Harder.
The crack widened.
Halric glanced down.
"…We're not holding that."
Corvyn knew it too.
The numbers were too great.
The force too constant.
This was not an attack meant to test them.
It was meant to break them.
On the far side of the field—
The masked figure raised its hand once more.
And the attackers surged harder.
Faster.
As if driven by a single command.
Corvyn saw it.
"That one controls them."
Halric followed his gaze.
"…Then we kill it."
A simple answer.
A dangerous one.
Corvyn didn't hesitate.
"Open the sally gate."
Halric blinked.
"…You're serious?"
"Yes."
"That's a lot of enemies between here and there."
Corvyn's eyes hardened.
"Then we cut through them."
Another impact shook the gate.
Louder.
Closer to breaking.
There was no more time.
Halric gave a short, sharp laugh.
"…Of course we do."
He turned.
Shouting orders.
A small group formed quickly.
The best fighters.
Those still standing strong.
Those willing to step into the dark.
Corvyn moved toward the stairs.
Nightfeather steady in his grip.
The blade seemed heavier now.
Not in weight.
But in meaning.
As if it knew what was coming.
Edrick appeared at the base of the steps.
Blocking the path.
"You intend to leave the walls," he said.
Not a question.
Corvyn stopped before him.
"Yes."
Edrick's gaze flicked to the battlefield beyond.
Then back.
"That is not your role."
"It is now."
A brief silence passed between them.
Father and son.
Steel and stone.
Edrick studied him.
Then stepped aside.
Just enough.
"Then do not fail."
Corvyn met his eyes.
"I won't."
No more words.
No more time.
The sally gate creaked open.
Cold air rushed in.
Along with the sound of battle.
Louder.
Closer.
Real.
Corvyn stepped through first.
Into the snow.
Into the dark.
Into the storm of steel and shadow.
Halric followed.
Then the others.
Behind them—
The gate closed.
Sealing them out.
Ahead—
The masked army waited.
And at its center—
The one who called.
The one who knew.
Corvyn lifted Nightfeather.
And advanced.