The canyon’s black walls seemed to press inward, making the pass seem narrower than it truly was. In the sky above, dark clouds roiled in a blood red sky, lightning streaking down to crack amongst the jagged basalt spires that surrounded the pass, the thunder almost a horrific shriek that was enough to send a chill down the spine of even the most hardened warrior. Grimly, Ilarien Vindel surveyed the floor of the canyon, crouched on a rocky outcropping and wrapped in a dark cloak that helped him blend into the long, unnatural shadows that stretched across that tainted place, the evil that inhabited it permeating every stone.

The elven warrior didn’t flinch when a bolt of dark lightning struck somewhere closer, the shriek following mere heartbeats afterward. Below him, a battle raged amidst the rocks and evil taint, and it was this that his silver gaze remained locked on, watching the press of bodies and the clash of weapons as a number of silver and blue-clad elven soldiers...his own men...engaged in an enemy that still made his stomach turn just to look upon them. The Shadow Legion, they were called...an army of things that resembled warped humanoid and beast-like creatures crafted from pure darkness. Some wore armor and wielded weapons forged from a metal as dark and as tainted as they were, and others simply fought with tooth and claw, with equal ferocity.

It made his heart swell with pride, to see how his soldiers, men and women both that had experienced the horrors that these abominations brought with them, fought against them with such courage and strength. Too many fell, though, under black-bladed swords and axes, or the rending talons of one of the beasts. Far too many, and his forces had been depleted from the start.

“I believe it’s time to join the battle, Milord,” A voice said from behind him; soft, yet carrying within it a strange strength, hinting at a core of steel hidden beneath velvet. He turned, a wan smile gracing his slim features as his eyes fell upon the familiar form of Lady Talar. Though he had not had the pleasure of meeting her before the war, before the evil that the Shadow Legion had brought with it, she had proven herself to be an excellent soldier and tactician in the time they had fought together, and there were none that he trusted more to guard his back.

“Of course. Enough have died already, and I won’t be the sort of commander who remains at the back and watches as he sends loyal soldiers to their deaths.” Ilarien rose, throwing open his cloak to reveal the gleaming mithril mail beneath, the seal of House Vindel affixed to it, a raven flying before a midnight-blue disc. It seemed to shine even in the dim light, and as he raised his sword high a roar of challenge escaped his throat, hard eyes locked on the shadowy creatures that continued to hack and batter at the elven forces. “This ends tonight! For Maldythar!”

His cry was echoed a hundredfold and more among the haggard soldiers, and they pressed forward with renewed vigor. With unnatural speed, Ilarien launched himself into the fray, using every bit of strength afforded him by the curse that burned in his veins. This was where it would all end. The war, brought about by the coming of the Shadow, his people’s fall into darkness...it would end, and the lives of countless people would be saved.

Behind him, he could hear Talar cry out. Not in pain, but in fury, as her sword bit through one of the hulking beast-like shadows, separating its upper and lower halves in a spray of black gore, the thing already beginning to dissolve into nothingness. For a moment, he wondered if the things truly died or if they just reformed elsewhere to be sent back against the defenders, but he pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Such an idea could be fatal, worming its way into his mind and hurting the chances for survival. No, they had to press on...they would win this, or they would die. There were no other options.

Ilarien waded through the press of bodies, the battle having degenerated into knots of isolated skirmishes, forced to fend off an attacking beast every few steps, though his enchanted blade dispatched them quickly enough. Fighting among his soldiers, though, lifted his spirits greatly; sharing in the bond the war had forged between them all...they battled fiercely, even the ones less experienced in combat or the arcane. Each had lost something precious, and every one of them had been cursed by the dark magic the Shadow Legion had leveled against their people. All around him, eyes both blue and crimson blazed with determination and courage, and he knew the same simmered within his silver orbs. He didn’t know why his eyes had been spared from the curse’s effects that had changed even the eyes of the others, as trivial as such a thing was, but it was a mark of hope none the less.

Shouting his battle cry yet again, the last son of House Vindel cleaved a shadow warrior in two, rushing forward even before it had begun to dissipate and driving his blade through the chest of another, where its heart should have been. They were so close now. So close to their goal, and the true finale of this gruesome war. Beyond the pass, he could already see the spires of the Legion’s fortress rising from the black rock around it, and the numbers of the force assaulting them were growing smaller far faster than his own were being depleted. A shout sounded behind him, then another...a cheer rising up among the men as the last of the creatures in their midst fell.

For the first time in what seemed like ages, Ilarien felt a triumphant smile spread across his pale face.

“For Maldythar!” He cried, and amid the chorus of cheers the small army surged forward, and for the first time since the beginning of the war, the Shadow knew fear.