The battlefield erupted in chaos as the two armies collided with the force of a thunderstorm. The ground trembled under the weight of charging soldiers and clashing weapons. The air was filled with the metallic clang of steel, the sharp cries of the wounded, and the guttural roars of men throwing themselves into the fray.

  Mara moved through the melee, her fire-infused sword cutting arcs of flame through the dusky twilight. Each swing of her blade left a trail of scorched earth and smoking corpses. Her lieutenants flanked her, their faces grim with determination, leading the charge against the Sorenputhran lines.

  "Advance!" Mara shouted, her voice carrying above the clamor. Her soldiers, bolstered by her command, pushed forward with renewed vigor. The front lines clashed with a deafening roar, swords and shields slamming together. Mara ducked under a spear thrust, her blade sweeping low and cutting through the legs of her attacker. The man crumpled to the ground, screaming, and she pressed on without hesitation.

  Linus stayed at the rear, his eyes sharp and calculating as he assessed the unfolding battle.His place wasn’t on the front lines — Mara had made that clear — but here, directing her reserves and commanding the archers.

  His eyes darted between formations, tracking where the Sorenputhran infantry were pushing hardest. A knot of enemy soldiers was driving dangerously deep into Mara’s ranks — if they broke through, the entire flank would crumble. Linus shot a glance at his runners.

  “Signal the archers!” he barked. “Concentrate fire on that breach — now!”

  The runner bolted down the hill, and moments later, the sky darkened with arrows. Linus watched as the deadly hail struck home, felling the enemy in clusters. The pressure eased — for now.

  He turned to a second runner. “Send word to Captain Harven. Reinforce Mara’s left side before they regroup.”

  The runner sprinted away, and Linus exhaled slowly.

  To his left, a unit of Mara’s men was struggling against a wave of Sorenputhran heavy infantry, their shields locked in a tight wall. The enemy pushed forward, inch by inch, the sheer weight of their formation threatening to break the line. Mara saw the danger and veered toward them, her eyes narrowing with focus.

  With a fierce battle cry, she plunged into the thick of the enemy soldiers, her sword blazing. The fire-infused blade sliced through a Sorenputhran shield, the metal hissing and melting under the intense heat. She sidestepped a thrust from a halberd, countering with a powerful overhead slash that split the weapon in two and sent the wielder reeling.

  A Sorenputhran officer, wielding a spear tipped with ice magic, lunged at Mara from her blind spot. The spear’s point shimmered with frost, the temperature dropping sharply as it neared her. Mara twisted at the last second, her sword slashing upward in a defensive arc. The flames clashed with the ice, creating a burst of steam that obscured their forms for a moment. When the mist cleared, the officer was on the ground, his chest split open by Mara’s flaming strike.

  “Hold the line!” she shouted, rallying her troops. “Push them back!”

  Her men responded with a roar, pressing forward as one. They heaved their shields, shoving back the Sorenputhran infantry. Spears jabbed forward, finding gaps in the enemy’s armor, while archers rained arrows down from the ridge, picking off the stragglers.

  Watching from a safer distance, Linus noticed a group of Sorenputhran cavalry preparing to flank Mara’s exposed side. The cavalry was swift and deadly, their spears glinting in the dying light as they maneuvered into position. Linus’s eyes narrowed, and he quickly signaled to one of Mara’s lieutenants.

  “Cavalry coming in from the west!” he shouted. “Get the spearmen into formation now!”

  Mara’s lieutenant spun, eyes widening as he spotted the approaching wave of horsemen. “Spears! Spears now!” he bellowed.

  The soldiers scrambled, boots pounding as they dragged their spears into formation. Blades locked together, iron tips bristling like a wall of thorns.

  The ground trembled. The cavalry bore down on them, hooves hammering the earth. The air filled with the thunder of the charge — louder, louder still — until the wave of steel and muscle seemed unstoppable.

  “Hold!” the lieutenant roared.

  The front line buckled as the cavalry crashed into their pikes. Spears splintered and snapped, but the wall held. Horses shrieked as they reared back, riders tumbling from their mounts. Blood spattered across shields as the remaining cavalry twisted in a desperate attempt to withdraw — too late. Mara’s archers, waiting for their moment, loosed a deadly volley that cut the retreating riders down before they could regroup.

  Mara took the opportunity to rally her troops once more. “Now! Push forward!” she commanded, her voice fierce and unwavering. She plunged into the fray, her sword a blur as she carved a path through the enemy lines.

  The tide of battle had shifted momentarily in Aldric's favor, but the frenzied energy on the battlefield stilled for a heartbeat as a bone-chilling cold spread across the field. Linus, watching from the rear lines, felt it first—a sudden drop in temperature, as if winter itself had descended upon the battlefield. He knew instantly what it meant: an unchanneled mage had joined the fight.

  Shouts of panic rippled through the Aldric ranks. The soldiers, who had been pushing forward with renewed confidence, faltered at the sight of the Sorenputhran mage, standing with an eerie calm at the back of his forces. The mage raised his hands, a halo of frost forming around him, and the ground beneath his feet cracked and froze.

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  "Unchanneled mage!" one of Mara’s lieutenants shouted, the fear palpable in his voice. The words spread like wildfire, and the confidence Mara had instilled began to wane. Even her men, seasoned warriors, hesitated. The destructive potential of an unchanneled mage was well-known; they were rare, but when they appeared, they were forces of nature—unpredictable and devastating.

  Mara’s eyes narrowed as she saw the mage begin to weave his spell, the ice shards forming a swirling vortex in the air. She knew she would have to confront him directly; no channeled mage on her side could match the raw, unbridled power of an unchanneled one. The mage’s hands moved with fluid precision, the ice shards expanding into massive, jagged spears that hung like a glittering wall of death.

  With a flick of his wrist, the mage sent the ice spears hurtling towards Aldric's lines.

  “Down!” Mara shouted.

  The spears struck like lightning. Shields cracked, ice skewering soldiers before they could react. One man staggered back, an icy spike jutting from his chest, his breath curling in a mist. Another fell screaming, his legs pinned to the ground by frozen barbs.

  The air filled with the sickening crunch of ice driving through bone. Mara felt her stomach twist, but there was no time for grief.

  The sheer power and scale of the attack were unlike anything a channeled mage could achieve; it was as if the air itself had turned against them.

  Mara cursed under her breath, sprinting towards the front lines, her fire-infused blade blazing with a renewed intensity. “Form up! Brace yourselves!” she yelled, rallying her men. “I’ll handle the mage!”

  She didn’t wait for a response, plunging headfirst into the fray. Her sword left trails of fire in its wake, melting the ice shards that rained down around her. She ducked and weaved, avoiding the lethal projectiles, but the unchanneled mage was relentless. He raised his arms again, and the ground beneath Mara’s feet erupted with jagged ice spikes, forcing her to leap aside.

  The mage’s power was overwhelming; he created a storm of ice and frost that swirled around him, sending out blasts of freezing wind that knocked soldiers off their feet. Entire sections of Aldric’s army were frozen in place, encased in thick layers of ice. Mara could see her men struggling, their faces contorted in agony as the frostbite set in.

  “Fall back!” one of her lieutenants screamed, but another volley of ice shards cut down the retreating soldiers. The unchanneled mage’s attacks were indiscriminate, tearing through friend and foe alike. His eyes were glazed with the ecstasy of wielding such raw power.

  Mara gritted her teeth and charged directly at him, her sword blazing brighter than ever. The heat radiated off her in waves, melting the ice beneath her feet as she sprinted. She slashed at the ice spikes, carving through the frozen chaos. The mage saw her coming and smirked, lifting his hand to summon a massive ice wall that towered above them.

  Mara didn’t slow. She thrust her sword forward, channeling all her fire magic into a concentrated point. The flames erupted, shattering the ice wall in a spectacular explosion of steam and water. She lunged through the dissipating mist, her blade aimed at the mage’s heart.

  The mage, faster than she anticipated, sidestepped her strike. He grabbed her arm, the touch of his icy fingers burning like frostbite. Mara gasped as the cold seeped into her bones, sapping her strength. With a twist of his wrist, the mage created a dagger of pure ice and drove it towards her throat.

  Before the blow could land, a soldier from Mara’s ranks lunged at the mage, tackling him to the ground. The mage snarled and, with a flick of his hand, sent the soldier flying back, his body impaled by a sudden spike of ice. Mara used the brief distraction to regain her footing, spinning around to strike again.

  The mage lifted both arms, and a whirlwind of ice formed around him, blocking her strike. The shards of ice grew into a swirling vortex, each piece as sharp as a dagger. The vortex expanded, forcing Mara back, her flames flickering against the relentless cold.

  Watching from a vantage point at the rear, Linus caught a glimpse of something others missed amidst the chaos. He noticed a soldier, clad in the armor of Mara’s forces, moving with a calculated, predatory grace that stood out from the panicked movements of the rest. Linus’s lips curled into a knowing smile. He didn’t need to guess who this was—it was one of his own, a Ratrian operative, fulfilling the silent order he had given earlier.

  The assassin approached one of Mara’s lieutenants from behind, the glint of a dagger flashing in the dim light. The blade found its mark with a swift, precise strike, sinking deep into the lieutenant’s back. The man’s body crumpled soundlessly to the ground, his death unnoticed in the frenzy of battle. Linus watched with satisfaction. This was no random act of violence; it was a methodical purge of those who had been in the tent earlier, a calculated move to weaken Mara’s inner circle.

  The chaos of the battle provided perfect cover. Linus knew he had to eliminate these witnesses, reduce Mara’s support network, and increase her reliance on him. It was all part of his plan. He hadn’t used much of his shadow magic today but couldn’t take any chances; there was no room for error.

  He moved swiftly through the battlefield, his eyes scanning for more of his operatives. He spotted another Ratrian assassin slipping through the ranks, unnoticed in the confusion. The assassin approached yet another of Mara’s loyalists, dagger poised for the kill. Linus made his way over, knowing he had to keep up appearances. He couldn’t let anyone suspect his involvement, not yet.

  As the assassin raised his dagger, Linus stepped in, his sword a blur of motion as it sliced cleanly through the man's wrist. The severed hand fell, the dagger clattering to the ground. The assassin turned, shock and pain contorting his face, only to meet Linus’s cold, unfeeling gaze. Without a word, Linus drove his blade into the man’s heart, ending him swiftly.

  As he stepped away from the fallen assassin, Linus allowed himself a slight, satisfied smirk. Everything was falling into place just as he had intended.

  Still locked in battle with the unchanneled mage, Mara glanced over and saw Linus dispatch the assassin. Her eyes met his for a split second, a look of understanding passing between them. She knew they were up against more than just an army; this was a coordinated strike, a plan to dismantle her forces from within.

  Mara staggered forward, her breath ragged, her body trembling from the cold that clawed at her limbs. The unchanneled mage stood before her, frost curling from his fingertips as he gathered his power once more.

  Ice surged from his outstretched palms — jagged, merciless shards that tore through the air like razors. Mara dodged left, flames igniting along her sword as she drove forward.

  The mage sneered and thrust his hand upward. The ground erupted in a wall of ice, towering between them.

  Mara gritted her teeth. “No,” she growled. Fire blazed brighter than ever before, her blade searing through the frozen wall in an explosion of steam and molten water.

  The mage stumbled back, startled. Mara didn’t hesitate. She lunged, her flaming sword plunging into his chest.

  His scream pierced the battlefield — a shrill, agonized cry that twisted into a guttural gasp as fire consumed him. The frost dissipated, the frozen air giving way to warmth. The mage’s body crumbled, ash and steam curling where he had once stood.

  Mara rocked back, sweat mingling with the soot on her face. The battlefield was quieter now, but she knew the fight was far from over.