The order cracked like lightning. Dawnforge cavalry surged forward, lances lowered, their formation thundering across the barren earth. Griffins shrieked from above, wings slicing the sky as they dove, talons outstretched. The ironhorns lowered their crowned antlers, their charge a living avalanche beside the cavalry.

The horde rallied in a frenzy at the feet of their towering bone constructs. Orcs, trolls, and skeletons swarmed in a shield of flesh and bone, throwing themselves forward to protect their masters' creations. Many were crushed underfoot, screaming as the giants' massive legs trampled their own ranks, but the rest pressed on with fanatical resolve.

The two armies met with a crash that split the silence into chaos. Steel clashed, beasts roared, and the sky filled with the shrieks of griffins tearing into wyverns overhead. The battle for the Dawnlands had begun.

Amidst the storm of steel and blood, Seralyth's blade carved through an orc's neck, spraying black ichor across her gilded armour. She wheeled her horse, eyes snapping toward the towering abominations above.

"Ironhorns!" she bellowed over the clash of war. "Bring them down! Take their legs!"

Sir Taron's voice echoed hers, commanding with thunder. "Dawnforge, clear the path for the Ironhorns!"

The colossal elk surged forward, antlers crowned in steel. Their riders urged them on, banners whipping in the wind. They ploughed through the chaos like living battering rams, skewering tribesmen and orcs who hurled themselves into their path.

One great Ironhorn lowered its head, but before it could strike, an ogre stepped in, bellowing with fury. Its spiked club swung with bone-shattering force, smashing into the elk's flank. The beast screamed, its ribs caving as it toppled lifeless to the earth, crushing warriors beneath it.

The others thundered on, momentum unstoppable. They slammed into a bone giant's leg with a crack like a thunderclap. The towering construct shuddered, bones snapping and tumbling free. With a roar of breaking sinew and clattering remains, the giant collapsed sideways, crushing swathes of both horde and Dawnforge caught beneath its fall.

Seralyth's sword took the head of another tribesman clean, her voice rising above the carnage. "One down! Two remain, keep pushing!"

Her horse reared, hooves striking, as the Dawnforge pressed forward into the maelstrom.

Bragga's tusks dripped as her eyes blazed green, fury boiling out of her in a guttural roar. She raised her iron-studded club high and bellowed, the sound crashing over her horde like thunder.

"Forward! Protect the giants! Drown them in blood!"

The horde surged in answer, tribesmen and orcs throwing themselves into the fray with renewed madness, skeletons clattering into the gaps like waves against stone.

Bragga herself lumbered forward, each step cracking the earth, her massive club swinging in great, murderous arcs. The first blow sent a Dawnforge shield-wall flying, warriors crumpling beneath the weight of the strike. Another swing tore through an elf's body clean in two, spraying the ground with crimson. She grabbed a screaming human by the arm and with a jerk ripped it from its socket, tossing the corpse aside like refuse.

When the first bone giant collapsed, its shattered form crushing the battlefield beneath it, Bragga's rage snapped. She charged, her club sweeping in a deadly arc. It connected with a mounted Dawnforge cavalryman and his steed both, the impact a thunderous crack. Man and horse were hurled through the air, bodies breaking as they crashed lifeless into the dirt.

Bragga roared again, a sound of hate and hunger that rolled over the battlefield, shaking the courage of those who stood before her.

Above the carnage, the sky was no less a battlefield. Griffins wheeled and shrieked, wings glinting gold and bronze in the sun, while wyverns screeched back, their leathery wings blotting the light as they dove. The air was thick with feathers and scales.

A griffin struck first, talons extended. Its claws raked deep into a wyvern's throat, tearing through its scales. The beast screeched, gouts of black liquid spraying into the wind before it spiralled downward. With a final crash, it smashed into the ground below, crushing soldiers of both armies beneath its bulk.

The battle above became a storm of wings. Griffins and wyverns twisted around one another, snapping, biting, ripping at flesh. A griffin tore into a wyvern's wing, sending it plummeting in a spin; another wyvern clamped its jaws on a griffin's hindquarters, ripping it apart mid-air.

Some griffins broke from the melee to dive low, talons extended as they raked through enemy ranks, shredding trolls and scattering orcs in showers of blood. Wyverns retaliated, swooping down with their riders shrieking from their backs, seizing soldiers in their claws. Screams pierced the skies as men and elves were carried aloft only to be hurled screaming from the heights, their bodies breaking against the earth below.

The skies above mirrored the chaos below, a storm of predator against predator, neither willing to yield.

Beneath the winged war raging above, the ground shook with another thunderous charge. The armoured ironhorns drove forward, their riders braced as the elk lowered their colossal antlers like lances. Ahead of them loomed another of the bone giants, its legs shrouded by a living barricade of ogres and trolls, hulking beasts howling as they dug in their heels.

The clash was brutal. Antlers met flesh with a sickening crunch. Trolls were gored clean through, lifted screaming into the air before being cast aside. Ogres slammed spiked clubs into the charging beasts, breaking armour, shattering bone. One ironhorn stumbled, dragged down by the weight of a troll's grip, its rider and elk hacked apart by skeletons that swarmed like a tide.

But the charge did its work. The front line fell in blood and ruin, leaving just enough of a gap for the second wave to crash through. Three elk broke free, thundering into the giant's leg. Antlers crowned with steel tore into the construct's frame, bones splintering and snapping.

With a groan like the grinding of mountains, the colossal skeleton faltered. Its towering body toppled sideways, and when it struck the earth the impact crushed hundreds beneath, trolls, ogres, skeletons, and Dawnforge caught too near. Dust and shattered bones clouded the air.

Only one bone giant remained. And it was close. Too close. With each step, the earth shook as it marched within striking distance of the Great Wall.

The crash of the second bone giant drew every eye, including Sir Taron's. For a heartbeat he looked, and in that instant Bragga struck.

She thundered through the melee, her massive frame ploughing forward, club swinging low. With a roar she slammed into Taron's steed, sending horse and rider crashing to the dirt.

"Puny human in shiny armour!" she spat, saliva dripping from her tusks as she loomed above him.

Taron groaned, trying to rise, but his leg bent wrong beneath him, broken. He reached for his blade, but Bragga's shadow swallowed him whole.

The troll matriarch raised her great club high, muscles straining, ready to smash him flat into the earth.

Then a flash of gold.

Seralyth charged past on her warhorse, her blade sweeping in a bright arc. Steel met wood with a ringing crack, deflecting Bragga's blow wide. The force of the clash hurled Seralyth from her saddle, armour clattering as she struck the ground.

Bragga staggered a step, then steadied herself. Her wide grin split into laughter, guttural and grotesque. Drool streamed down her chin as she hefted her club once more. Her laughter rumbled like an earthquake as she dragged her club through the dirt, eyes never leaving Seralyth.

"You're too weak," she snarled, spit flying. "You're too late."

Seralyth's brow furrowed. She spun sharply, her gaze snapping to the Great Wall.

The final bone giant had reached it.

Its colossal fists pounded into the stone, each blow shattering rock and shaking the battlements. The ground quaked with every strike, dust and stone raining down upon the defenders above.

"Loose!" shouted a Dawnforge captain, the rangers unleashed a storm of arrows. They streaked across the sky, striking the giant in volleys so thick they turned daylight to shadow, but the shafts clattered harmlessly off its ribcage, lodging in gaps or snapping outright.

From above, the griffins shrieked and dove, talons rending into the construct's spine and skull. Fragments of bone cracked free under their might, but the giant roared on, undeterred, hammering the wall with its fists as though it meant to grind the Dawnlands into ruin.

Stone cracked, cries of fear rose along the battlements, and still the giant beat its war-drum fists against the Dawnlands' last bastion.

As Seralyth's gaze lingered on the Great Wall buckling under the bone giant's fists, Bragga swung. The massive club howled through the air, but Seralyth's reflexes, sharpened by the Necklace of Dawn, saved her. She pivoted, armour flashing, the blow crashing into the ground where she'd stood a heartbeat before.

The troll bared her tusks in a grin, spit hanging from her lips. "I'll wear your head at my waist, little queen, and let your people kneel before it."

Seralyth's expression hardened, then turned into a small defiant smile. Rage burned behind her eyes.

She dashed forward, blade gleaming, and slashed low toward Bragga's gut. The strike was fast and true, but the troll's steel-plated wrist slammed down, deflecting the edge with a screech of metal.

Bragga roared, swinging her club in a storm of blows, each one violent enough to crush a horse and rider in one stroke. Dirt erupted where she struck, dead bodies flung aside in the chaos, but Seralyth moved like fire, ducking, weaving, each attack missing her by inches.

Then she found her opening. Her blade darted forward, piercing into Bragga's stomach.

The troll staggered, then laughed, thick blood spilling down her hide. She reached for the blade still lodged in her flesh and leaned close, breath hot with rot.

"You're going to need a bigger sword, tiny queen."

Seralyth's eyes narrowed. With a sharp tug she wrenched her blade free, and a spray of dark green, thick blood burst from the wound. It oozed down Bragga's stomach in heavy streams, sizzling faintly where it hit the ground.

The troll's body lurched, her massive frame trembling for a moment, then she steadied, grin widening despite the wound. She pressed a clawed hand against the gash, scooping a handful of her own blood, and smeared it across her tusks like war paint.

Her laughter boomed, echoing over the clash of battle.

She swung her club again, wild and furious, even as her lifeblood poured. The ground shook with each strike, but Seralyth's stance held firm, her blade ready, the glow of the Necklace burning brighter against the encroaching dark.

End of chapter four - part two.