A Wolf's Howl, A Fairy's Wing

Explosions shattered the forest's tranquillity. A cacophony of screaming and roaring filled the air, punctuated by the relentless clinging of metal against metal and the gruesome splatter of blood.

These violent sounds echoed through a rainforest that, until recently, had thrived on the edge of a parched desert. The once-dense foliage was now devastated, driven back by the relentless chaos of battle. The verdant canopy had surrendered to the uproar, giving way to a vast, torn clearing within the forest.

Here, a ragtag group of miserable looking shapeshifters and vampires were engaged with a far more organized fighting force of similar composition. Most noticeable where the symbol of a sun behind two crossed spears, which was branded into each of the dishevelled faction's foreheads.

The organized group featured numbers running in excess of three thousand, while the ragtag group numbered a thousand at most, yet, surprisingly, the groups were in somewhat of a stalemate.

To answer that mystery, one had to look beyond the clashing forces, at the Arcanists supporting them.

The organized side, despite their numerical advantage, had only a few hundred humans, their spells flickering through the air like errant fireflies. In contrast, the ragtag group was bolstered by a vast contingent of Arcanists, their numbers stretching into the thousands.
Find exclusive stories on empire

These Arcanists, though visibly focused, appeared almost relaxed compared to their ragtag group of Runebound allies. They donned robes and garments marked prominently with the same sun and crossed spears emblem that their fighters bore.

Their ranks were lit up by a mesmerizing array of magic circles, constantly unleashing spells of nearly every first or second ranked affinity imaginable. Not only did they reign death down on the battlefield, but they also enhanced the Runebound fighters in various ways.

The organized Runebounds were barely able to stand their ground against the onslaught of miserable, chaotic, unorganized, and nearly crazed Runebound fighters, because they were constantly being pelted with powerful spells from this back line of Arcanists.

It was a rain of destruction that their own spell slingers simply couldn't fully protect against, let alone match. The disparity was glaring, as the larger group of Arcanists were even using formations, while the smaller group had nothing of the sort.

Frustration was palpable among the disciplined ranks, but their resolve remained unshaken.

Right in the middle of the clash between claw and weapon, one fighter in particular stood out. A tall and sleek, second-ranked werepanther, with pitch-black fur and yellow eyes, fought as one with the organized force. They moved with a fluid grace that belied their fierce combat style.

In one hand, they wielded a metal spear, and in the other, an oval shield crafted from intertwined leaves and branches. With well-timed blocks, bashes, stabs, and explosions of sand, they were able take on several enemies at once, all while carefully guarding against the enemy Arcanists.

But that wasn't the only reason this werepanther stood out. The main reason was in the way they commanded the rest of the troops with impressive tactical insight. Despite being stuck in the middle of the melee, they seemed to have a perfect understanding of everyone's position and situation.

The shield on their right was fastened to their arm, rather than their clawed hand, but instead of using that hand to attack as well, they were tightly clutching a kind of radio. They used this to coordinate.

"Third company, reinforce the right flank!" they suddenly exclaimed into that radio while blocking two first rankers, and stabbing at a second ranker. Their voice was a high-pitched growl, identifying this werepanther as a woman.

Her words were imbued with a commanding authority, but there was no immediate response to her orders. Yet, she appeared confident they were being carried out.

"Fifth company! The enemy Arcanists are focusing the middle, spread out! First company, focus defensive measures on fifth company!" She continued giving orders with great confidence, despite still having no confirmation of anything actually being done.

Yet, when one watched the battlefield from a distance, it became clear that everyone was moving exactly according to this werepanther's orders. Her tactical acumen and awareness seemed to touch the realm of omnisense, and yet, she truly was a second ranked Runebound.

It wasn't merely her strategic prowess that affected the battlefield; however, her influence was further amplified by her impassioned rallying cries.

"Hold the line!" she roared across the heads of their comrades, her voice amplified with Runebound energy. "Think of your families! Think of your loved ones! Do not allow these monsters to advance one step further into our lands!"

"Remember the slaughter of Djibouti!" they continued with a belly full of fire. "Do not let tragedy strike again! We are all that stands between them and our people!"

Her voice resonated with fierce emotion and reverberated with power as it only continued to rise and stir the hearts of her comrades. "Do! Not! Falter! Hold until reinforcements arrive! I know who you are!

You are my people, and together, we will hold the line!"

Instantly, rousing cries of support and determination filled the battlefield as the organized force began fighting even harder. The chant of "Hold the line!" spread among the ranks, like a chorus of defiance as the fighting became ever more dangerous and casualties on both sides began to mount.

The battle raged on for at least an hour, with no clear winner being determined for the simple reason that the defenders did exactly that, they defended. Intending to wait for reinforcements, they actually tried not to kill too many of the enemy Runebound.

After all, as soon as they all died, the enemy Arcanists would have no reason left not to simply bombard the place into oblivion. Currently, they were still being mindful of their Runebound troops, if barely, but as soon as that obstacle was removed, the only recourse the defenders had would be a direct charge in the face of heavy, magical artillery.

Setting aside whether they would even make it, there would be heavy casualties before they'd even be able to fight the enemy directly.

Of course, at at that point, the Runebound would be in an extremely favourable position, but even if you ignore the casualties, there was no way to know if their advantage would be enough to offset the lower numbers at that point.

Naturally, it was the werepanther coordinating it all. Without their leadership, the defenders might have already lost in one way or another.

Yet, despite all this chaos, there were two people ignoring it all. They stood across from each other, a little to the side of the battlefield, and fighters on both sides made sure they stayed well enough away from them. They were surrounded by a level of destruction that the rest of the battlefield simply couldn't match.

On the defender's side, stood a middle-aged man with dark skin and a solemn expression. He wore few clothes, consisting of little more than some short pants, which left his powerful chest exposed.

His dark hair was short and curly, while the man's yellow eyes were fixated on his counterpart standing on the opposite side.

This was another middle-aged man, but his skin was lighter. He appeared to be of Indian descent, and he looked across the battlefield with an amused expression.

Short brown hair and a well-groomed beard framed his round face, while a luxurious robe draped down his body, once again depicting the same symbol as his allies.

These were both third rankers and had been fighting their own battle at the same time as their troops were. Although, fighting was perhaps a strong word, as they'd only really been probing each other so far.

But that was about to change.