Chapter 17

# Chapter Seventeen: Unity and Division

The alliance was formed, but unity proved harder than Kael had anticipated. The Council of Allies met weekly, and each meeting brought new conflicts.

King Aldric of Westmarch demanded command of ground forces, citing his kingdom's military strength. Captain Sable refused, insisting the Cloud Fleet operated independently. The Dragon Elder insisted on veto power over any operation that risked dragon lives.

"This is impossible," Kael muttered to Lyra, after a particularly heated session. "They're more interested in scoring points against each other than fighting Vexthorn."

"Old rivalries don't disappear overnight," Lyra reminded him. "You're asking people who've fought for centuries to trust each other completely. It takes time."

"We don't have time."

He was right. Intelligence reports showed Vexthorn massing his forces for something big. The Shadow Lord wasn't waiting for the alliance to get its act together.

Kael needed a victory—something to prove the alliance worked, to give them confidence in each other.

"Fortress Malachite," Tessa suggested, when he confided in her. "Vexthorn's western supply hub. Take it out, and you disrupt his logistics for months."

"It's heavily defended."

"Everything is. But it's also vulnerable—built on a ley line intersection. If we sever the ley lines, the fortress's wards collapse."

Kael studied the maps. It was risky—a joint operation requiring ground forces, air support, and precise magical coordination. Exactly the kind of mission that would test the alliance's ability to work together.

"If this fails," he said slowly, "the alliance might fall apart."

"If it succeeds, you prove that together, you're stronger than the sum of your parts." Tessa smiled. "High risk, high reward."

Kael made his decision.

The Council approved the operation—barely, and only after Kael threatened to proceed without their blessing. It was a dangerous gamble, putting his authority on the line for a single battle.

The assault on Fortress Malachite began at dawn.

Captain Sable's airships struck first, lightning cannons tearing through the fortress's anti-air defenses. The dragons followed, diving from above to strafe enemy positions with liquid fire.

"Ground forces, advance!" Kael commanded from his position on a nearby hilltop.

King Aldric led the charge personally, his heavy cavalry crashing against the fortress gates. The Forest Guardians provided magical support—vines that scaled walls, trees that animated to fight alongside soldiers.

"Ley team, status?" Kael called.

"In position," Lyra responded. She led a specialized unit tasked with severing the ley lines. "Beginning severance sequence."

The fortress's wards flickered as the ley lines were disrupted. Kael saw his opportunity.

"All units, press the attack! The wards are failing!"

The battle raged for hours. Kael fought on the front lines, the Starblade cutting through Shadow creatures, his starlight healing the wounded. He was everywhere—boosting morale, coordinating tactics, leading by example.

Finally, the gates fell. The alliance forces poured into the fortress, overwhelming the defenders.

Victory.

But Kael wasn't celebrating. He found Lyra in the ley line chamber, kneeling beside two fallen Guardians.

"They didn't make it," she said quietly. "The Shadow magic... it was stronger than we anticipated."

Kael knelt beside her, grief heavy in his chest. "How many?"

"Twenty-three dead. Seventy wounded. Among all forces."

Victory had a price. It always did.

But the alliance had proven itself. Westmarch's cavalry had protected the Cloud Fleet's landing zones. The dragons had covered the Guardians' retreat. The Astral Order had provided magical support that made the impossible possible.

They had fought as one.

The victory celebration was subdued, respectful of the fallen. But it was genuine. For the first time, the alliance members looked at each other not as rivals, but as comrades.

"You did it," King Aldric told Kael, clasping his hand. "I didn't think it was possible. But you actually made us work together."

"We did it together," Kael corrected. "I just pointed the way."

"Modest." Aldric laughed. "I like that. Keep it up, Starborn. You might actually win this war."

The fortress's capture provided more than morale. They found intelligence—maps, communication logs, plans. Vexthorn's strategy became clearer.

"He's building something," Tessa reported, poring over the captured documents. "A ritual. Massive scale. If he completes it..."

"What?"

"The stars will go out. All of them. At once."

The implications were horrifying. If Vexthorn extinguished the stars, celestial magic would die. The Astral Order would be crippled. The Starborn's power would vanish.

"When?" Kael demanded.

"Six months. Maybe less. He's accelerating the timeline."

Six months. The alliance was united, yes, but still learning to work together. They needed more time—time Vexthorn wasn't giving them.

"Then we accelerate too," Kael decided. "No more cautious operations. We strike at his heart. The Obsidian Wastes."

Silence fell over the command tent. The Obsidian Wastes were Vexthorn's domain—fortress of Shadow, center of his power. Attacking there was suicide.

"You can't be serious," someone protested.

"I'm deadly serious." Kael's voice was steel. "If we wait six months, we lose. If we strike now, while he's focused on his ritual, we have a chance."

"A chance at what? Death?"

"A chance at victory." Kael looked around the room, meeting each commander's eyes. "We've proven we can work together. Now we prove we can win."

Debate raged, but Kael's will prevailed. The alliance would strike at the Obsidian Wastes.

The war was entering its final phase.

And Kael was leading them into darkness itself.