The battle had raged for days under the gray sky. Every dawn brought screams, clashing
blades, and the bitter smell of iron. Taehyung's men had fought relentlessly step by step,
blood for blood. The rebels were fierce, cunning, and unyielding, but Taehyung's calm in the storm carried his soldiers through every turn of despair.
It wasn't an easy victory.
The first month tore through their strength; ambushes at night, poisoned arrows in the rain, traps buried under the mud. Every inch of ground they gained was drenched in loss.
Taehyung led from the front, brown hair whipping in the wind, his blade flashing like a streak of moonlight. He was calm, too calm the kind of calm that made even the bravest men shiver. His dark eyes burned with quiet resolve, intimidating yet breathtaking to behold.
Aera stayed close, weaving frost through the chaos. Her power flowed like a whisper, cooling fevered wounds, halting bleeding, freezing blades that came too close to Taehyung's back.
Soldiers who once feared her now looked at her with reverence, she was the spirit that
guarded their Sword.
By the second month, the rebels were weakening. The supply lines had been severed, and their morale was fading. But even then, they fought like beasts cornered in the dark. Taehyung's men endured through grit and discipline, hunger gnawed, fatigue tore, yet no one dared to fall behind.
When the final clash came, it was brutal and relentless — dust filled the sky, and the world
became a blur of screams and steel.
Taehyung stood at the center, his sword blazing faintly red from his own heat. The flame
inside him flared uncontrollably during the fight, and for a moment, his body trembled with
pain, but he pushed through. His soldiers saw his unwavering back and found strength in it
their Sword didn't bend, so neither would they.
After three long months, the rebels fell.
Their banners were burned, their leader slain, and their camps captured.
Silence swept across the battlefield like a sigh of exhausted relief.
They had won.
But it wasn't triumph that filled the air — it was grief.
Aera moved through the wounded, her frost weaving soft light through the carnage.
Taehyung stood among the fallen, silent, his hands gripping the hilt of his sword that still
dripped with blood. Around him, the surviving soldiers cheered weakly, tired, broken, but alive. Taehyung didn't smile. He only looked up at the darkening sky, his hair clinging to his face with sweat, and whispered under his breath,
"We won… but at what cost?"
They had few casualties compared to what they expected — about fifty men, loyal and
brave, who had fought until their last breath. Taehyung refused to leave them unburied. He
ordered a full day to lay them to rest properly.
Each grave was dug with care. Each name was spoken aloud. The men sang quietly while
the cold wind swept the field, carrying their voices through the smoke and dust. Taehyung
personally placed stones on each mound, kneeling for a moment in silence before moving to the next. His calm face betrayed nothing, but Aera could feel the heat of grief smoldering within him.
That night, the camp was quiet.
No songs of celebration, no feasts, just silent soldiers and flickering campfires.
Taehyung sat beside the flames, sharpening his sword in slow, deliberate strokes while Aera
watched from across the fire.
"We leave at dawn," Taehyung said quietly.
"The sooner we return to the capital, the sooner this can end."
Aera nodded. "We should rest. You've pushed yourself too much."
He looked at her then calm, steady, the firelight reflecting in his eyes. "I'll rest when we're
home." She wanted to argue, but she saw the exhaustion hidden behind his calm and said nothing.
As the night deepened, a light breeze carried the faint smell of iron again — but no one
noticed. The forest beyond the camp was quiet, too quiet. Somewhere in the darkness,
shadows moved… patient, waiting.
Unseen by all, a faint crimson mark glowed briefly beneath the soil… the seal of a trap set
long before their arrival.
The Sword of the Kingdom and his army slept under a false peace, believing the war was
finally over.
But dawn would bring not victory…
Only blood.
The dawn that followed should have been peaceful — a symbol of victory after months of
blood and loss. But peace never came.
The battlefield was quiet, far too quiet. Mist clung to the air, thick and cold, wrapping the
camp in uneasy silence. The soldiers who had survived the previous night's battle layscattered across the field, tending to the wounded, burying the dead. The scent of iron and smoke still lingered.
Taehyung stood amidst the ruins, his once radiant aura dimmed. His brown hair, now
darkened by soot and blood, clung to his face as he stared at the graves being dug before
him. His favorite commander, Master Jiwan, was among the wounded, the man who had
trained him since he could barely lift a sword.
Taehyung said nothing, his lips pressed in a thin line. But the tremor in his fingers as he held Jiwan's sword said everything.
Aera watched him quietly from a distance. Her body felt like glass, fragile, about to shatter.
Every breath she took came with pain. She had spent what little remained of her magic
healing the soldiers and shielding Taehyung during the fight. Her power was fading fast, but
her will remained unbroken.
When the burial was done, the soldiers knelt before their prince.
"Your Highness, the men are exhausted. Shall we rest until dawn before marching?"
Taehyung nodded weakly. "Just one night. We leave tomorrow."
No one questioned him. They were too tired, too broken to argue.
As night fell, the wind howled over the hills — a low, haunting sound. Most soldiers collapsed
where they stood, falling into deep, dreamless sleep. The few who stayed awake kept weak
watch, their eyes drooping.
Aera couldn't rest. Something in the air felt wrong. Too heavy. Too still.
Then came a faint twang.
An arrow sliced through the darkness — straight into a soldier's throat.
Before he could even fall, dozens more followed. Arrows rained from every direction,
embedding into tents, bodies, and the ground.
"Ambush! To arms!"
The cry came too late.
The enemy poured from the shadows like a black tide, faces covered, blades glinting red
in the firelight. The survivors of the fallen rebel clans had been waiting for this moment. The
first battle had only been bait.
Panic spread. Men grabbed their weapons, half-dressed and bleeding, but the attack was
overwhelming.Taehyung's flames burst to life fierce but unstable. He swung his sword with furious precision, cutting down enemies that surrounded his men. But each strike drained him further. His injuries, ignored in his stubbornness, reopened. Blood trickled from his arm and shoulder.
"Form a line!" he shouted. "Protect the wounded!"
His men obeyed, circling him like a living shield. They knew they would die, but they refused to fall back.
Aera joined the fray, her frost spreading in waves, freezing incoming arrows midair, slowing enemy advance. But her magic was faint, breaking apart faster than she could control it.
The night was a blur of screams, fire, and snow.
And then...
"Your Highness!"
A blade aimed for Taehyung's heart. Before it could reach him, Master Jiwan, bloodied and
barely standing, leapt in front of him.
The sword pierced his chest.
Taehyung caught him as he fell, disbelief and horror twisting his features.
"No…..Master Jiwan! Stay with me!"
Jiwan's blood pooled between them. His hand, trembling, touched Taehyung's cheek.
"You've… become everything I hoped you'd be… Don't waste it here, my prince…I hope
you get your dreams fulfilled.."
His eyes dimmed. His hand slipped away.
Something inside Taehyung snapped.
Flames exploded around him — raw, wild, consuming. He struck down enemies faster than they could scream, his fire searing through their armor. The ground turned molten beneath his feet.
Aera's eyes widened in fear. She had seen him fight, but never like this — never with such
fury. The power that protected him now threatened to kill him.
"Taehyung! Stop! You're burning yourself alive!"
He didn't listen. His expression was hollow, his heart drowned in grief and rage. Aera looked at the battlefield, at the dying soldiers who refused to retreat, still fighting to
protect him. Their voices echoed through the fire:
"Protect His Highness!"
"Don't let them near him!"
Her hands trembled. Her frost flickered weakly. She turned to Lieutenant Sang, one of
Taehyung's loyal aides.
"Knock him out," she ordered.
He froze. "What? No, I can't—"
"Do it!" she screamed. "If he keeps fighting, he'll die!"
With tears in his eyes, Sang struck the back of Taehyung's neck with the hilt of his sword.
The prince's flames flared once — then faded as he fell into Aera's arms.
She held him tightly, her face streaked with blood and tears.
"I'm sorry, Taehyung…" she whispered.
The soldiers around her were barely standing. Blood covered the snow, mixing with ash. The
enemy was closing in again.
One soldier, clutching a wound at his side, spoke through ragged breaths:
"Take His Highness and go. We'll hold them off."
Aera's voice cracked. "If you stay, you'll die!"
"We know,... My Lady" he said with a faint smile. "But we're soldiers of the Sword. What
greater honor than to fall protecting him."
The others nodded ,..five left, but only three could still stand.
"Please," the soldier whispered, "Protect his highness. He's our future."
Her vision blurred with tears. The frost around her began to shimmer as she stood, clutching
Taehyung close. The three remaining soldiers helped lift him onto a horse, one of them
wounded and limping.
The others turned back toward the flames.
Without hesitation, they charged — a final stand, their war cry echoing through the night.
"For His Highness!"
Aera turned away, her chest tight with grief. She urged the horse forward, leading the three
soldiers into the forest. The sound of battle grew fainter behind them, replaced by silence
and the crackling of distant fire.
When they finally stopped, miles away, Aera slid from her horse. Her knees hit the ground.
The cold air bit her skin, but she didn't care.
She looked down at Taehyung's unconscious face, his blood staining her hands. For the first
time, she broke.
Her tears fell quietly, mixing with the frost that covered the ground.
"They all died for you," she whispered. "And I couldn't save a single one."
The frost around her glowed faintly, responding to her sorrow, before fading into the cold.
That night, the fire of the Sword was silenced and the only light left in the darkness was
Aera's trembling heart.