Retreat!

Retreat!
Darius’s POV

Ethan’s blade crashes against mine with a force that rattles my bones, the shock of the impact surging up my arms, threatening to tear muscle from bone, but I refuse to yield even a fraction of ground, because behind me lie the heart of my people and the woman who has become the light of my soul. Each strike he delivers is wilder, heavier, fuelled not by discipline but by madness, his red-rimmed eyes burning with an obsession that has hollowed him into something more beast than man. Sparks burst from our clashing steel, stinging my skin, and in the nearness of him, I smell blood, sweat, and the acrid sting of rage that clings to him like smoke.
He lunges, claws flashing for my throat, but I pivot, twisting my shoulder hard into his chest, the impact knocking him back half a step. In that breath of space, I swing, my blade carving across his arm. His blood sprays hot against my face, and he roars. It is a raw, guttural sound that echoes across the battlefield. Yet the wound does not slow him; it only feeds the frenzy in his gaze. He comes again, faster, his blade slicing so close to my ribs that I feel the whisper of air, and when his fist follows, it connects with my jaw, the crack of bone echoing inside my skull. For a heartbeat, the world swims red, but I force my feet into the blood-slick ground, plant myself like stone, and strike back, silver fire flashing in the dark.
The battlefield rages around us, a storm of screams and steel. Wolves leap, their bodies crashing into shields, claws raking against armour, teeth sinking into flesh with a sound like ripping cloth. Men cry out as spears punch through ribcages, as blades shear through bone. My Lycans howl as they answer in kind, tearing enemies apart with brutal swipes, their strength a wall of fury against the tide. Above, Florence’s voice rings steady in her chants, a thread of silver light binding the barrier against Lilith’s endless assault, and through it all, Aria’s glow burns like dawn, sweeping across the battlefield in waves that steady faltering hearts and force shadows to recoil.
But none of it matters now, not the cries of my warriors, not the screeches of Lilith’s darkness. My world has narrowed to the man before me, to the madness burning in his eyes, to the fight that can end only with one of us broken.
Ethan slams into me again, his strength staggering. His strikes are heavy, unrefined, each blow meant not to outmanoeuvre but to overwhelm, and though my skill meets him at every turn, the raw ferocity behind his attacks drives my muscles to their limits. His claws rake across my chest, tearing through leather and skin, the pain sharp and searing as blood spills hot down my torso. My teeth grit, the taste of iron filling my mouth, but pain is nothing. I have bled before, I will bleed again. I drag my blade upward in answer, slicing into the meat of his shoulder, and his roar shakes the night. For a heartbeat, his knees falter. For a heartbeat, I see him waver. But the madness refuses to let him fall. He lunges again, teeth bared, a feral beast who would tear my throat with his mouth if his blade failed him.
“You will not keep her!” he spits, the words snarled through clenched teeth, spittle spraying, rage consuming him. “She was mine!”
“She was never yours,” I growl, my voice steady despite the fire in my wounds. I meet his strike with one of my own, our blades locking so close our faces hover inches apart, the sparks of steel bursting between us. His breath is ragged and hot against my skin, his eyes wild with a hunger that will never be satisfied. I see him for what he is, not a rival, not a leader, but a hollow man, driven only by obsession, fighting not for a people or a cause but for his own madness. And that makes him dangerous, yes, but it also makes him weak.
I shove forward, driving him back with a flurry of strikes that cut deeper with each blow. My sword slashes his side, spilling blood that soaks his armour in dark rivers. He staggers, his movements slowing, his swings growing wider, sloppier. Fury drives him, but fury betrays him; his body can no longer match his rage. He roars, swinging in a wide arc meant to split me in half, but I duck beneath it, the air of his blade grazing my back as I drive mine across his chest. The steel bites deep, carving a red line that blooms wide and wet across him. His roar fractures into a scream, the sound breaking into raw agony, and I know the duel has begun to tilt.
Beyond him, Lilith is a storm of darkness. Her hands twist the night into writhing serpents of shadow, her mouth open in a scream of fury as the Heart of Hades blazes like molten fire against her breast. She hurls her void against Aria, against the witches, clawing at the barrier with everything she has, but the light holds. Aria stands tall, her glow radiant, her voice steady as she pours her strength into my people. The two forces clash like sky against sea, and even through the din of battle, I hear the disbelief in Lilith’s rage as she realizes her power does not break us. And she knows, just as I know: Ethan falters.
I press harder, faster, each strike sharper, more precise. My blade cuts into his thigh, his leg nearly giving beneath him. For a heartbeat, I see it—the flicker of fear in his eyes, the truth that even his madness cannot silence. He lunges again, but it is desperation, not strength. I catch his blade, twist it wide, and slam my fist into his jaw with enough force to send him crashing into the mud. He sprawls there, broken, bloodied, his chest heaving, his body trembling with the weight of defeat. I raise my sword for the final blow!  Lilith’s scream splits the battlefield, raw and desperate. “Enough!”
Her shadows surge outward in a wave that rattles the earth, coiling around Ethan’s body, yanking him back from my strike. The Heart of Hades blazes so fiercely it burns my vision white, her power snapping like a whip across the night as she shields him, her darkness wrapping around them both like wings. For a heartbeat, she stands defiant, her eyes locking on mine across the ruin of the battlefield. Her face is twisted with fury, but behind it burns the truth she cannot swallow: she feels the shift, she knows the tide has turned. My Lycans hold. My witches stand. My Queen’s light burns brighter than her shadows. And Ethan, her blade, lies broken and bleeding, dragged from the mud by her hand. She bares her teeth, her voice shrill with venom as she screams, “Fall back!”
Her army recoils as though pulled by invisible chains, shadows retreating like a tide dragged from the shore. Wounded are carried, corpses abandoned, the flood receding into the smoke. Ethan snarls, fighting to lunge for me once more, but Lilith binds him in darkness, her grip absolute as she drags him with her. Still, her gaze never leaves me, her hatred a blade between us.
“You have not won,” she spits, her words carrying over the field, sharp as the crack of a whip. “On the blood moon, we will take everything.”
Then they are gone, swallowed by the shadows, leaving silence in their wake. I stand amid the wreckage, my chest heaving, my sword heavy with blood, the ground beneath me slick with death. The night is broken, yet the walls stand. My warriors breathe, my Queen glows, my Kingdom endures. Though I know they will come again, though I know this was but the first storm, I also know this: tonight, we held. Tonight, they fled. Tonight, we proved that no darkness, not Ethan’s madness, not Lilith’s stone, can break us. Not while I still draw breath.