Kathren was wrong, oh so very wrong.

The choking, lung-searing smoke would not kill the beastkins. Kathren knew that for a fact. At first, it was just the faint smell of burning wood, fur, and flesh, a pleasant experience if she ever knew one.

But then the center of the smoke plume shifted to cover the Middle Fort. Which was just… awesome. If she and those around her could suffer through it and live, so could their enemy.

Clenching her abdomen, Kathren suppressed the cough building up inside of her, threatening to double her over. Squinting her eyes, the blurry sides of her vision moved inward as tears gathered, attempting to wash out the irritating grit of the ash and smoke. Her refusal to blink, as that meant taking her eyes off the surrounding shadows, meant nothing to the demands of her body, meaning she was bound to lose this struggle.

All around her, hazy forms moved, and every time one looked to be moving closer, she braced her shield to take an attack and arm to lash out as her mind frantically searched the mental links, checking if it was an enemy. She knew it shouldn't be. Kathren was, after all, in the second line of the formation, but one could not be too careful in a battle. Especially a battle consumed by blinding smoke.

Kathren knew the figures to her immediate front and sides were legionaries, but she couldn't see anything but deceptive shadows beyond them. When the smoke first started rising, the beastkin on the Western Bridge quickly made up their minds. Not that they really had a choice.

Those at the bottom of the bridge had finally gotten their shit together once they were reinforced by another century and were now making steady progress up the bridge. If the beastkin didn't have someplace to defend, they would be smashed on a two-sided assault or forced to jump into the river. Not ideal options to have if anyone bothered to ask for her opinion.

Attacking what amounted to a battered century, holding a gaping hole in a wall, was their only real choice. When they charged the gap, a stroke of fortune followed the beastkins — though Kathren couldn't say which side was lucky — as the smoke enveloped everyone.

Or the ass fucking fire grew to the point of smotherin' the entire Middle Fort… the scout trainee mentally cursed. Regardless of the truth, Kathren and the others had to fight… again. While being blinded, making the perfect topping for her shit night.

"By the void… I'm tired." Kathren grumbled, using a priceless breath to complain. A cost that was worth it because a legionary had to keep up the legion's traditions and reputation.

Kathren hadn't even done anything since the current fight started, but the smoke made her breathe like she had just sprinted a ten-mile run. Which was only making her wheezing gasps for air all the worse and more challenging.

"Crack-boom! Cracacaca—boom~!" The world shook as tingles of energy ran over her body, and the noise bombarded her ears never stopped, drowning out everything else. Kathren stumbled forward from a pressure wave slamming into her shoulders as it whisked the smoke away. As she sucked in a breath of fresh air, a wave of relief washed through her.

With the smoke gone, Kathren was surprised to see only thirty beastkins were still alive and fighting. A number that was abruptly lessened when two knights rushed out of the lines of legionaries to quickly cut them down.

Throwing a look over her shoulder and up, Kathren's eyes widened in astonishment. The rumbling, occasionally arcing, storm clouds overhead had finally shown their full fury. And that fury was otherworldly.

Lightning struck the Northern Fort like drops of rain, to the point that hundreds of searing azure bars were linking the earth and sky every second. The entire fort was tinted a sky-blue hew, and the attack, for what else could it be, just kept going. Thousands of bolts scorched themselves into her eyes until the sound in her ears stopped, but she could still feel the overlapping pressure waves thrumming against her skin as the thunder invoked by the lightning continued.

She did not look away or even move, as the thought never crossed her mind. In complete stupefaction, she watched the lightning until one last set of bolts lanced into the fort, and everything stilled for a second, but it was soon clear this was far from over.

The world turned an azure-white again, as above the Triad, lines made of lightning formed upon the bottoms of the clouds, flooding the world with their brilliance. A massive circle with inner rings connected by intersecting lines intermingled with strange symbols rapidly took shape among the chaos of the storm.

Like a death sentence, the weight of its existence bore down like an executioner's blade on the necks of every Olimpian within the Triad for long seconds. When the pressure finally broke, Kathren wasn't sure if it was for the better, as five rivers of lightning as large as the Rush surged into the center of the lightning formation as they traveled from the distant horizons in a fraction of a second.

At the center of the confluence of energy, a churning ball of power was amassing. It soon became clear the rivers of lightning were somehow absorbing the dark clouds as the storm front, once stretching far beyond what could be seen, was rapidly disappearing at the farthest edges.

"It's absorbing the clouds…" Kathren thought or whispered — she could not tell which at this point — in growing horror. The last clouds were consumed, showing the night sky overhead, but none of the stars were visible as the light filling the world was too bright.

Then the massed lightning orb released a pulse that lifted the dust covering the ground twenty feet into the air as it struck Kathren and everyone else, nearly pressing her to her knees. Little sparks of lightning danced between the particles of dust, and the air held a tension that prickled at the skin, raising her hair on end.

A roar of animalistic thunder beat against her body, heralding a supreme being. In the next instant, a creature was clawing its way out of the ball of overwhelming power, jaws stretched wide as it was birthed into the world.

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Kathren had never seen anything like it before. It wove its way through the air like a snake along the ground and even had scales covering its length that were similar to one. However, no snake had ever existed that was two hundred feet long and as wide as a house, except the size didn't matter. The creature's scales were like looking up into a clear sky on a summer's day but roiled with unimaginable power just under the surface.

As it twisted through the air, it showed off its sets of short arms hanging at the front and back of the creature, while the spine had a mane of lashing hair at the head and a ridged spike along the spine afterward. Like it was going against her expectation just because it could, the head of the living lightning construct looked slightly feline but had a long snout filled with arching teeth and long whiskers lashing the air.

As the creature exited the sphere, the lightning ball steadily shrunk in size until it vanished entirely, having been absorbed by the beast, leaving only the diagram in the sky behind. It circled high above Kathren several times before trumpeting its power to the world before arching down toward the ground, lightning bolts shooting off from its sides as if lashing out at the world for constraining it.

More than seeing, as it had disappeared behind the walls of the Middle Fort, Kathren felt the impact of the creature in a deep rumble. It was like the earth itself was groaning from an unimaginable wound. What might have been a few rocks flew up into the air and hung there for seconds before the shaking stopped, and then there was a rapid series of flashes to her left.

By the time her head snapped to the side, Kathren only caught a glimpse of the creature before it was partly obscured again. It had turned into little more than a head, but it had grown several times larger, allowing its jaws to dig into the ground and still envelop the wall of the Western Fort. Mouth stretched impossibly wide, streams of lightning lashing from the teeth ripped apart the stones of the battlements, scattering them far and wide in every direction.

It traveled hundreds of feet, tearing everything apart as it went before finally dissipating into motes of flickering light. In its wake, Kathren could see a furrow in the ground that she traced back to the river, where another shock met her gaze. Its stone blocks were charred black and looked slightly melted, but there was no mistaking it as anything other than a new bridge stretching over the Rush.

Kathren stood in stunned silence, looking at the last remnants of the destruction wrought on the forts. She could not hear anything other than the ringing in her ears and the beating of her heart, but she didn't need to hear to know nobody was saying a word.

Now was a time to bear witness to the end of an era.

**********

Slumped in his seat, Ponta slowly reached up with his left hand and wiped at his lips before lifting it in front of his eyes and looking at the tips. His fingers were coated in blood. Long seconds passed as he looked at the scarlet liquid, even moving his thumb to rub it between his fingers.

I knew there would be blood. Sacrifices have to be made in war… But so much has already been spilled. And with far more to follow… A weary sigh escaped the old man's tired lips as the ancient pain of loss in his chest flared with new life. A delicate hand, one that would have been better used to hold a teacup or paintbrush but was marked with callouses and scars, came into his vision. Turning his head, he followed the arm until he found the face of the woman it belonged to.

She was in full legion frontline gear, with a steel breastplate strapped on, bracers on her forearms, shin guards, and leather armor with a harness underneath the armor. If the weight of the armor meant anything to her, it didn't show in her movements as she crouched down in front of Ponta.

Quineeta was the image of feminine grace, able to rival anyone he had seen in the stately balls thrown by the nobles of Olimpia. He could see the concern on her face. It was the combination of the slight wrinkles of her brows and the creasing at the corners of her eyes. Few people would know her well enough to see it, but he could. They had served together for decades, and it behooved one to recognize the emotions of one's subordinates.

"Legatus Panta!" She shouted a little too loudly, eyes flicking to the blood running down his face, "Are you alright!"

She was outside when the… Can it be called lightning? A creature made of living lightning? Never seen anything like that from a Knight Electro. Coming out of his thoughts, Quineeta shook him by his shoulder again. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"I'm—" Finding his mouth too dry to speak, Ponta wet his lips before speaking again, "I'm fine, Prefect,"

Sitting up as she moved back, he looked at the table before him. A map showing the Triad was laid out on the dark polished wood, with little figurines marking his cohorts and centuries' positions scattered along and within the walls. While more figurines represented a minimum of a hundred legionnaires, the knights had their own figures, as one could turn a battle by themselves if used properly.

Coming to his feet and stepping forward, he loomed over the table again, looking at what he had wrought. They needed more information. Too many miraculous reports depicting beastkins performing fantastical feats had come in. If they were facing a new breed, they needed to be ready. To know what they could do.

So he called up the militia. He sent out calls for aid. He positioned his legion for the worst-case scenario, which he assumed was losing the Western Fort.

Cross would send their legions to help us retake it. Losing the Northern Fort would effectively mean cutting themselves off from the Cradle, along with preventing us from sending out a force to attack supply lines. Not that I believed the beastkin would have one at the time, but it was the right tactical decision… Sighing as his thoughts trailed off, Panta didn't know whether to be happy or sad. He had got the information he wanted and far more. The price, heavy as it was, might be considered small by the time this war was over, as none of the reports were exaggerated.

Adjusting his armor and then bracers before wiping off his nose with a handkerchief handed to him by his valet, he lightly set his hands onto what felt like lacquered wood, but he knew he wasn't. The slightly cool surface was like ice prickling at his clammy skin. He almost wished it did hurt as something of a penance for what he did. What he will continue to do.

Lashing out with a tendril and hiding the minor eruption of pain it caused him, he wiped the figures from the Northern Fort and those manning the northern section of the wall on the Western Fort of the Triad off the table and onto the ground. Legatus Valee Panta had held onto his fracturing union long enough to know that a fourth of them were dead. And for those who weren't dead, most were incapacitated, making the point moot. The Northern Fort is gone.

Having knocked the figures of half his legion to the ground — the only display of rage he would allow himself — he looked at his prefect and the telepaths in the room. "Form a new union and pull everyone back from the Western Fort. We will hold the Southern Fort."

Shocked silence filled the room at his words and actions. No one had ever heard of half a legion dying in a single night outside of ancient stories. Even in those reports, nothing came close to the absurd set of circumstances that happened tonight. What made it worse was that this was bound to go down as one of the worst disasters the Triad has ever suffered.

Needing to snap everyone out of their thoughts, Panta barked, "Am I understood!"

His words caused everyone to snap to attention and shout in response, "Yes, domine!" Their voices chorusing together before they burst into action.

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