Meanwhile, the bone giant hammered its fists against the Great Wall, stone splintering and tumbling with every strike. Cracks spidered outward, dust raining from the battlements as defenders scrambled to hold their footing.

Below, the last two ironhorns thundered toward the construct. Their armoured hides gleamed beneath the fading light, riders urging them on in a final desperate charge.

The first elk never made it. A tide of ogres and trolls surged to meet it, clubs and axes striking in unison. Blows rained down like falling boulders, smashing through plate and flesh alike. The ironhorn shrieked, legs buckling beneath the relentless assault, before it crashed to the earth, trampled by the tide.

The second ironhorn roared as it ploughed through a dozen skeletal warriors, its steel-tipped antlers scattering bones like dry twigs. It lowered its head for the giant's leg, but a trio of ogres barred its path. They crashed into it with brute force, piercing its side with jagged spears. The beast staggered, blood pouring from its wounds, but still fought to push forward.

One ogre seized its antlers in a massive grip, straining with all its might. With a sickening crack, the great horns snapped. The others struck together, and in a final act of savagery, they tore the elk's head clean from its body.

The riders were dragged screaming into the swarm as the colossal elk carcass was swallowed by the horde.

Now nothing stood between the last bone giant and the wall.

The colossal bone giant struck the Great Wall one final time, and with a roar like thunder the stone gave way. A wide breach split open, ancient blocks crumbling into ruin. The horde screamed triumph, and with bloodlust in their eyes they surged toward the gap, eager to spill into Veyra.

But before a single foot could cross the threshold, the beastkin of the Argent Vale descended like a storm.

Kael led the charge, daggers flashing in his hands as his kin howled beside him. Rangers loosed volleys of arrows into the press, warriors met orcs and trolls with steel and claw, and scouts slipped like shadows through the chaos, cutting throats and hamstrings before darting away unseen. The mighty beastmasters roared commands to their companions, dire-wolves clamping throats, black bears tearing ogres down into the dirt, panthers leaping from corpse to corpse with fangs dripping.

The Argent Vale Guard and the Archgriffin guardian were absent, bound by oath to never leave the Vale itself, but every other beastkin under Kael's command was there, their numbers a tide of fury that slammed against the breach.

Together with the Dawnforge, they stemmed the flood, holding the ground forces back from spilling into Veyra.

But nothing could stop the towering bone giant. With strides like earthquakes, it stepped through the melee, each footfall crushing beastkin and Dawnforge alike. It strode deeper into Veyra, its fists smashing garrisons beyond the wall to rubble.

Kael's eyes burned as he scanned the battlefield, his beast-like sight cutting through the smoke and dust. He found her, Seralyth, locked in deadly combat with the troll matriarch Bragga, while Sir Taron lay wounded on the ground beside them. Around them, the battle churned, Dawnforge warriors clashing with orcs and skeletons, wyverns and griffins shrieking above.

Kael snarled, fangs bared. He vaulted onto the back of a massive armoured dire-wolf, its armour etched with the crest of the Vale.

"With me!" he roared, his voice carrying like a thunderclap over the din.

The beastmasters mounted their own battle-beasts, wolves, bears, and panthers plated in steel and charged in his wake, riding through the carnage to join the queen.

The clash of steel and bone rang out across the battlefield as Seralyth and Bragga's were still trying to best the other. Nearby, Sir Taron, his leg twisted grotesquely from the fall, braced against the lifeless body of his horse. A pair of skeletons lunged at him, blades raised, but he met them with grim defiance. Even seated, wounded, he struck them down, shards of bone scattering across the blood-soaked ground.

Bragga's roar cut through the dust. She swung her massive club low, a sweeping strike meant to crush the queen's legs. Seralyth leapt, armour flashing, clearing the blow, but the troll was faster than her bulk suggested. With a snarl, Bragga swung her free hand and backfisted the queen across the face.

The impact cracked like thunder. Seralyth crashed to the ground, her cheek already bruising purple.

"My queen!" Taron shouted, forcing himself upright despite the pain. "Are you—"

"I'm fine!" Seralyth snapped, forcing herself to rise, fury blazing in her eyes.

It was then Kael arrived. He and the beastmasters cut through the chaos like a storm, beasts tearing into orcs and skeletons as steel and fang painted the ground in gore.

"Kael!" Seralyth breathed, relief cutting through her rage.

"I came as soon as I heard of the attack," he growled, dismounting in a fluid motion.

Kael gestured sharply, and two beastmasters pulled Taron onto the back of a white dire-wolf, its fur streaked crimson with blood. The knight grimaced but held fast to the beast's mane.

"The giant skeleton cannot be stopped," Kael said, eyes grim as he looked toward the colossus tearing into Veyra's garrisons.

"The necromancers," Taron gasped, pointing with a trembling hand. In the distance, cloaked figures stood in a circle, their chants rising like a death-song, strings of dark energy tethering them to the bone giant.

"Deal with them," Seralyth commanded, her tone sharp as steel. Then her gaze snapped back to Bragga, who loomed with blood and spit dripping from her maw. "And deal with her."

Bragga let out a heavy, rattling laugh, baring tusks stained green with her own ichor.

"I've changed my mind, tiny queen. I'm going to eat you whole once I've smashed your bones."

She laughed again, shaking the ground with her mirth.

Kael locked eyes with Seralyth, his expression as hard as iron. "As you command."

Then he spurred his mount and sped off, the beastmasters thundering after him, carving a bloody path toward the chanting necromancers.

Seralyth's breath came harsh, her face bruised and swollen from the troll's earlier strike, but her grip on the Necklace of Dawn steadied her resolve. She raised her blade and pointed it at Bragga's bulging throat.

"Your horde is breaking. Your necromancers will be butchered. Your bone giant will crumble. This assault is already lost."

Bragga's maw split in a grin, her tusks slick with spit and blood.

"You think to frighten me, tiny queen? I'll rip you in half and drink your guts from the ground."

Seralyth clenched the necklace tight, its warmth pulsing through her veins.

"This ends now."

Bragga's laugh was guttural, phlegm and blood spraying.

"About time!"

They clashed.

The troll swung in a frenzy, her club smashing chunks of stone, tearing through corpses as if they were straw. But Seralyth's movements were quick and merciless, slipping past every strike. Her counters came like lightning.

Steel tore across Bragga's belly, carving deep rents that spilled dark green blood down her legs. Another slash opened her ribs, another her shoulder. The troll bellowed, flailing, but each miss left her open to another wound.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. 

By the end, Bragga's hulking frame was dripping with gore, her hide split like butcher's meat. Her breaths rattled, each one wheezing through the blood that bubbled in her throat. Still, she laughed. Still, she refused to fall.

Seralyth pivoted past another sluggish sweep, her eyes hard, and struck low. Her blade bit deep into the backs of both ankles, severing tendons with a wet snap.

Bragga screamed, collapsing onto her knees, the ground quaking under her weight. Blood poured from her wounds in thick rivers, pooling at her feet.

Seralyth stood before her, sword raised, watching.

The troll lifted her head, her face a mask of gore. She smeared blood across her tusks with one clawed hand and spat a mouthful of it onto the ground.

"Not bad, tiny queen... not bad at all."

Her laughter came again, but now it was broken, wet, bubbling. It gurgled into choking as her chest heaved, then stilled. Her massive body toppled backward with a crash that shook the battlefield.

When the dust settled, Bragga lay sprawled, her corpse a mountain of torn flesh and blood.

The horde saw. And they broke. Trolls and orcs turned, their courage rotting to fear. The tide of the enemy collapsed with their commander's fall.

Bragga of the Black Court was dead.

The battlefield thundered as the bone giant loomed, its fists smashing down again and again. But far across the field, Kael and his beastmasters had reached the circle of necromancers.

The robed figures stood locked in their chants, eyes glazed, voices droning like a hive of flies. So deep were they in their conjuring that they never noticed death descending upon them.

The first necromancer fell screaming beneath a dire-wolf's fangs, his body torn in half. Another was crushed beneath the weight of a bear, ribs snapping like brittle twigs as claws shredded him apart. Panthers streaked through the circle like shadows, their riders plunging daggers into blackened hearts.

One by one, they were slaughtered. With every necromancer's death, a legion of skeletons collapsed into loose bones, scattering like dry leaves in the wind.

A riderless panther, sleek, black, silent as night leapt upon the last of the conjurers. Its jaws closed over his skull, crushing it with a sickening crack. His scream was cut short, and with it, the giant heaved its final breathless groan.

The bone colossus collapsed, its vast frame crumbling into a storm of tumbling bones. Hundreds of femurs, skulls, and ribcages fell like hail.

Above, the skies shifted. The surviving wyverns, bloodied and beaten by the griffins, let out shrill cries and turned back west, fleeing toward Draven's borders.

Silence lingered for only a heartbeat. Then came the roar.

From the Dawnforge on the battlefield and atop the wall, to the beastkin still clawing in the mud, a thunderous cheer erupted across the battlefield. The horde was broken. The wall still stood, well most of it.

Victory.

But as the echoes rolled across the blood-soaked plains, the cost became clear. The ground was carpeted in the dead, Veyra's sons and daughters lying among the bodies of monsters. It was a victory carved in grief, a triumph bought with blood.

The gates of the Great Wall groaned shut, sealing away the field of broken bones and retreating foes. Inside, what remained of Veyra's defenders, the Dawnforge and the beastkin gathered together, weary but unbroken.

Kael stood tall, his kin at his back, their weapons still slick with the blood of monsters. Sir Taron, pale but resolute despite his shattered leg, sat astride the white dire-wolf, his grip firm on its mane. All around them, warriors who had stared death in the face lifted their heads high.

Queen Seralyth stepped forward. Her cheek was swollen, her armour bloodied, her hair matted with sweat, blood and earth, yet in that moment she shone brighter than ever.

"You have shown the truth of Veyra," she called, her voice clear above the silence. "None of you faltered. None of you yielded. Against bone giants, beasts, and the fury of a Draven's horde, you stood together, unbreakable, unbowed."

She pressed her hand to her chest in salute, pride gleaming in her eyes.

"I am proud of you all. Proud to call you my people. Proud to call you my shield, my strength, my heart. Today, you have shown the whole of Grimlore that Veyra will never fall."

her face set with pride despite the ache of her wounds. "I am honoured, honoured, to fight beside you."

A roar answered her, the clash of gauntlets to breastplates, claws to chests, voices raised to the heavens. The Dawnforge and the beastkin saluted as one, the sound rolling like thunder across the Great Wall.

For the first time in many years, sorrow gave way to hope. Their queen had bled beside them, fought beside them, and stood as one of them. In that unity, Veyra's strength blazed brighter than it had in a long time.

In blood and fire, they had not been broken. They had been forged stronger.

The end of chapter four.