Return of the General's Daughter

Lara nocked an arrow and released it without. It crashed into the incoming arrow causing it to veer.

"Hold steady!" shouted Logan, nocking an arrow of his own. He and Nicolas returned fire in quick succession, their shafts whistling true, dropping raiders on the rooftops below.

The balloon descended toward the town square. From here, the devastation was unmistakable: civilians herded together, driven by whips and blades. Pirate banners snapped in the rising smoke, their sigils painted in black and white. And there, at the center, stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with a raven-feathered cloak whipping in the wind. His voice rang above the chaos, commanding and cruel.

"Blackhawk," Lara hissed, her eyes narrowing.

The balloon touched down hard on the outskirts of the square, its ropes thrashing. Alaric drew his sword in one fluid motion, the steel singing.

"Let's go slay the the enemies."

Steel met steel in an eruption of sparks. Gideon charged headlong into a knot of raiders, his sword whirling like a storm. Asael vaulted onto a wagon, bow drawn, loosing shafts with deadly precision into the pirate ranks. Lara moved like shadow and fire, her daggers flashing as she danced through the chaos, each strike precise, each step a promise of death.

Logan and Nicolas climbed a burning scaffold to higher ground, raining arrows down on the raiders below. Their targets dropped one after another, pirates howling as they fell amidst the smoke and flame.

Alaric himself carved a path toward the square, his blade cleaving through the first raider who dared block his path. His golden cloak streamed behind him, a banner of defiance amidst the carnage.

But Blackhawk saw him coming.

The pirate captain's laughter boomed across the square, mocking and unafraid. He lifted a jagged cutlass, its edge blackened with blood. "Prince of Northem!" he called, his voice rolling like thunder. "Come then—let me carve your crown before your time."

The two forces collided. Alaric's sword met Blackhawk's cutlass in a crash of iron, the impact ringing through the air like a bell. Sparks showered around them as they locked blades, each man pressing forward, each refusing to yield.

Meanwhile, the Phoenix Legion fought desperately to push the pirates back. Every street choked with combat. Every alley turned into a trap of fire and steel. Yet slowly, stubbornly, the tide began to shift. Civilians broke free from their captors and fled behind the Legion's line. Archers on rooftops thinned the pirate ranks.

Still, the pirates were many, and their fury unrelenting.

General Odin's arrival saved them. The ground trembled as his vanguard thundered into the city, Estalian cavalry charging with lances lowered. Their war cry split the air, and for the first time, the pirates faltered.

But Blackhawk fought on, relentless, driving Alaric back step by step. His strength was monstrous, each strike shaking Alaric's arm to the bone. "You fight well, princeling," he sneered between blows. "But the sea takes all things in time. Even kings."

Alaric's teeth clenched. Sweat stung his eyes. Yet his resolve did not falter. "Then you'll find," he growled, shoving forward with sudden fury, "that Estalis does not drown easily."

With a surge of strength, he broke free of the lock, his blade flashing in a deadly arc toward Blackhawk's side.

The pirate twisted, the strike glancing, but his mocking grin faltered for the first time.

The battle for Zaraga raged on—streets awash with blood, the harbor lit by fire. And above it all, the clash of prince and pirate echoed, two wills colliding, neither willing to yield, the fate of the kingdom trembling in the balance.

The clash of steel drowned out all else. Zaraga's streets burned, the flames turning night into a cruel parody of day. Smoke and embers choked the air, the cries of the dying rising above the roar of the harbor.

The Phoenix Legion pressed on. General Odin's cavalry shattered the raider lines, hooves trampling pirates into the blood-slicked earth. Asael's arrows whistled, each strike felling another marauder. Gideon carved his way through a score of foes, his blades flashing like lightning. Lara moved among them like vengeance itself, twin daggers dripping red, every step leaving another pirate broken in her wake.

But still, Blackhawk and his second, the hulking brute known as Hook, cut their way through the melee like demons unleashed. Blackhawk's cloak of raven feathers whipped behind him as his black cutlass struck sparks against Alaric's blade. Hook—massive, scarred, one hand ending in a jagged iron hook sharpened to a deadly curve—laid waste to any who came near, his laughter booming over the carnage.

"Zaraga burns!" Hook bellowed, cleaving a Legionnaire aside with a sweep of his hook. "And soon Estalis will choke on its own smoke!"

"Not today," Lara whispered, eyes narrowing.

She darted forward, slipping through the chaos with a predator's grace. Pirates lunged at her, but each one fell in silence—throats cut, blades buried deep. She moved like smoke, unseen until it was too late, her path carrying her toward Blackhawk and Hook.

Meanwhile, Alaric battled on, his sword ringing against Blackhawk's cursed cutlass. The pirate captain's strength was monstrous, each swing a hammerblow. Alaric staggered under the relentless assault, sweat and blood stinging his eyes.

Blackhawk sneered, voice like gravel. "You bleed, princeling. You'll break soon enough."

Alaric spat blood and shoved forward, teeth bared. "You'll find Estalis is harder to break than you think."

But as Blackhawk pressed him back, Hook closed in from the flank, raising his iron claw for a killing strike—

—and Lara struck.

She leapt from a burning wagon, her daggers gleaming red in the firelight. One blade slashed across Hook's throat before he even saw her, blood spraying in a crimson arc. He staggered, choking, but Lara's second strike buried deep beneath his ribs. With a final gurgling roar, the giant crashed to the cobblestones, his lifeblood pooling dark.

"Hook!" Blackhawk roared, his eyes blazing. He turned, rage giving him a new, terrible strength. He shoved Alaric aside with a brutal strike, his cutlass snapping forward toward Lara.

But Lara was faster.

She slipped beneath the blade, spinning close, her daggers flashing like twin fangs. One buried deep in Blackhawk's side, the other slashed across his throat in a crimson spray. His eyes went wide, a strangled gasp escaping as his cutlass slipped from his grasp.

Lara leaned close, her voice a whisper colder than steel. "This is for every village you burned."

Blackhawk collapsed beside his fallen first mate, his raven cloak soaking in his own blood. The pirates who had followed his banner faltered, their morale shattering like glass.

"Blackhawk is dead!" Asael cried, his voice carrying across the square. "Their captain has fallen!"