Page 37

T he wind howled a mournful dirge, whipping snow into a frenzy around Bastian and one of the Undead scourge.

The flakes were stinging bullets, blurring the already indistinct landscape into a canvas of white and grey.

Their breath plumed out in ragged clouds, momentarily eclipsing the already diminished light of the dying afternoon.

The steel of Bastian’s armour had long ago lost its gleam.

It was now frosted and dull, mirroring the unforgiving sky above.

Each movement was a heavy, laboured affair, the cold seeping into their bones, making his muscles ache with protest. He had been at it for what felt like an eternity, other than the battle raging on around him, the only sounds he could hear were the wind, the clanging of metal against metal and the occasional grunt of effort.

Younger and more agile... and alive, he favoured a series of quick, darting attacks, his sword a silver flash against the grey.

His armour, lighter than the rusted Undead, allowed for greater mobility, but he was beginning to feel the bite of the cold.

His fingers, encased in gauntlets, were numb, but he maintained a firm grip on his sword .

The Undead Scourge was a mountain of a monster.

Its movements were deliberate, and each swing of its great sword carried the weight of experience.

He was less quick, but his blows were devastating, each meant to shatter not just bone but Bastian’s resolve.

The snow crunched under his heavy boots with each step, a testament to his unyielding strength.

Bastian launched another series of attacks, his sword a blur of silver, trying to bypass the Undead’s sturdy defence.

He managed a graze across his opponent’s arm, a small victory in a war of endurance.

The monster grunted, the blow barely fazing him.

He retaliated with a thunderous overhead swing that sent Bastian staggering back, the force of the blow vibrating through his whole body.

Bastian stumbled, his foot slipping on the icy ground. He fell to one knee, the wind stealing his breath. He looked up at the monster, his face obscured by the falling snow. For a moment, he saw not an enemy, his executioner....

“Bastian, no!!” I cried, hoping it would taunt the monster into charging towards me. We were losing this war, and the people I hold close to my heart were losing. It was our plan, but I didn’t think it would be this brutal.

I turned towards Azrael. “Azrael, now!”

But Azrael was gone.

My chest tightened with panic. I scanned the battlefield,

searching for any sign of him, but he had vanished. The one person who held the key to our victory had seemingly fled. A moment of despair ran through my body. “We need you, where are you?” I cried under my breath.

Before I could process further, a shadow fell over the bat- tlefield.

The sky darkened, and a thousand arrows were fired towards a single target, a massive, black dragon descending from the storm.

Its wings stretched wide, blotting out the sky, its form wreathed in searing heat.

It landed with an earth shaking impact, its fiery eyes locking onto the Council and Withers, letting out a mighty roar.

It was time.

End of Book 1 of The Hollow Crown Saga