Forged in Flame

Siege of Vasran

The morning of the siege dawned with a blood-red sky, as if the heavens themselves knew the battle would soon stain the earth. The kingdom of Ysirith stood in tense silence, its people staring out from their fortified walls at the sea of enemy soldiers that stretched far across the horizon. From atop the battlements, Queen Arin stood, her heart pounding in her chest as she surveyed the vast army that had come to take her kingdom. The Vasran banners fluttered in the breeze—black with crimson symbols, the unmistakable sigil of King Daryon.

"We've fought battles before, but this..." Thorne's voice broke the silence, his tone grim as he gazed out over the approaching forces. He stood beside Arin, his armour gleaming in the early light, the hilt of his sword clutched tightly in his hand. "This is going to be like nothing we've ever faced."

Arin glanced at him, her expression unreadable, but there was a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "We will hold the line," she said firmly, gripping the edge of the stone wall in front of her. "For Ysirith, for our people... We will not surrender."

---

An hour before the battle, a lone rider approached the gates of Ysirith. Dressed in the black and crimson of Vasran, the rider bore a flag of truce. General Kael, grim and unyielding, watched as the rider was escorted to the courtyard where Arin, Rethis, Lyria, Thorne, and a handful of the kingdom's most trusted soldiers stood waiting. The atmosphere was thick with tension.

The rider dismounted, pulling a scroll from his saddlebag. "A message from King Daryon of Vasran," he announced, his voice cold and formal. "He offers you one last chance for surrender, Queen Arin. Lay down your arms, and he will spare your people."

Arin stepped forward, her posture regal, her voice calm but edged with steel. "My people do not need Daryon's mercy," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "Tell your king that Ysirith will never bow to Vasran. We will fight, and we will win."

The rider's face remained impassive as he bowed stiffly, remounted his horse, and galloped back toward the enemy camp.

Despite the quiet atmosphere, the hours before the battle felt like an eternity, a calm before the storm. Soldiers lined the walls, bows in hand, arrows ready. The city below buzzed with activity, as civilians prepared for the worst, barricading homes and gathering supplies. The kingdom had never faced a siege of this scale before, but under Arin's leadership, every citizen—whether soldier, mage, or commoner—knew their role in the coming fight.

In the castle's war room, Arin and her closest allies went over their final plans. A map of the kingdom and the surrounding lands lay spread out on the table, covered in markers representing their forces and the enemy army.

"They'll hit the northern gates first," General Kael said, pointing to the weakest part of the kingdom's defences. "We've reinforced it as best we can, but their siege engines will make quick work of the walls if we don't hold them off."

"We'll need Rethis and Lyria there," Arin said, glancing at her two closest magic users. "Their magic will be crucial in keeping the gates from falling too soon."

Rethis nodded, his face grim. "We'll do whatever it takes," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "But we can't hold the gates forever. They'll eventually break through."

Arin's gaze hardened. "Then we'll make sure they pay dearly for every inch they take."

Just as their planning had finished, a horn blared across the kingdom, announcing Vasran's arrival. The battle began with a low rumble that seemed to shake the very earth. Vasran's siege engines, massive wooden constructs pulled by teams of oxen, rolled slowly toward the northern gate. Behind them marched the endless ranks of Vasran soldiers, their armour gleaming, spears held high. The sound of drums echoed across the battlefield, a steady, ominous beat that quickened the pulse of every soldier on the walls.