The first shell exploded near the southern ridge—bright, searing, and too close to mistake for a warning.
Snow and dirt flew into the air as Isabella and Shade turned toward the sound, their moment of fragile peace ripped away in an instant.
From the eastern cliffs, a line of armored warcrawlers emerged, crawling like steel beasts over the ice. Their cannons glowed with heat. Behind them: black banners bearing a symbol neither of them expected—a crowned serpent coiled around a bleeding sun.
Isabella's heart dropped.
"That's not one of ours," Alexander said through the comm. "That's not even Broken Order."
Shade's face went pale. "I know that emblem. It's not a nation. It's a remnant."
"A remnant of what?" Isabella asked.
Shade's voice turned to stone. "Of Voss's inner circle. The True Line. The ones too fanatical even for him. I thought they were dead."
Cassia's voice now joined over comms, sharp and shaken. "They've come to seize power before you two unite. They want chaos—enough to rebuild Voss's empire in their own twisted image."
The warcrawlers unleashed a second volley—this time at the Northern wall.
Shade's generals scrambled into position. Southern forces surged forward to intercept.
"Call them back!" Isabella shouted. "We'll be dragged into a war none of us asked for!"
But it was too late. The eastern threat had opened fire on both sides.
And now there was no longer just one enemy.
---
In the Chaos
Alexander reached Isabella's position, rifle in hand, sweat freezing against his brow.
"We've got thirty minutes before their infantry reaches our flanks. If we don't hold that ridge—"
"Then we lose both armies," Isabella finished grimly.
She looked to Shade, who was already striding toward her soldiers, barking orders with a command that sent waves rippling through the ranks.
"She's good," Alexander muttered.
"She was trained to be," Isabella replied. "Now she chooses to be."
The sisters met again as the battle lines shifted.
"You said there's more," Isabella said urgently. "About Voss. About the gate."
Shade nodded. "The Throneshard wasn't just a facility. It was a map. To something ancient. Something buried beneath this continent. A vault of knowledge and power. Voss called it the Crownroot."
"And the True Line wants it?"
"They want what's inside it," Shade said. "To become gods."
A warhorn blared across the ice.
The first wave of the True Line's soldiers—enhanced, masked, unrelenting—charged toward the fray.
And Isabella drew her sword for the first time since she'd left Voss's fortress.
Not for the South.
Not for vengeance.
But for hope.
"We hold the line," she said, turning to Shade. "Together."
And side by side, two daughters of darkness prepared to face the storm.
---