the timid bride

Chapter 26: The General of Ash

The war drums started at sunrise.

Not from the castle — from the valley below.

A slow, steady rhythm that echoed through the mountains like a heartbeat made of bone. The masked army of the Serpent King had begun its march.

And at the front stood a new figure.

Taller than the rest.

Clad in black metal that shimmered like smoke, and a skull-shaped helm crowned with red horns.

Kael, standing beside Arin on the tower wall, whispered, "That's not the Serpent King."

"No," Arin replied. "It's something worse."

Rael narrowed his eyes. "It's his general."

The wind howled around them.

Arin gripped the hilt of Vaelir — the sword humming faintly in her hand, warm with power.

"We have three days," she said. "But they won't wait. He's testing us."

Kael spat over the edge of the wall. "Let him come. I've been waiting to spill the blood of monsters."

Arin looked back at the courtyard below, where the castle's remaining soldiers stood in ragged lines. Farmers, former guards, kitchen boys, and runaway daughters. Not an army. But something like it.

She turned to Rael. "We need a commander."

Rael hesitated. "It should be you."

"I'm not trained."

"You're the reason they're still standing," he said. "They'll follow you."

Arin's heart pounded. She wasn't born to lead armies. She was born to be given away. Traded. Promised.

But not anymore.

She raised her voice. "Prepare the walls. Light the signal fires. No one sleeps tonight."

Kael grinned. "Now you're speaking like a queen."

Arin didn't smile.

She didn't feel like a queen.

She felt like a weapon.

—

That night, the fires were lit.

Four towers across the castle's highest points burned red with ancient flame. A signal — an old tradition — calling for aid from the wild clans, the hidden witches, the marsh guardians.

Whether anyone would answer… that was another story.

In the war room, Arin stood over the map again.

Kael and Rael flanked her.

"The general," Kael said, tapping the eastern side. "We need to take him out before he reaches the gate."

Rael shook his head. "He's bait. The real threat is what follows."

"Then we need eyes outside the castle," Arin said. "Scouts."

"I'll go," Kael offered. "I can move faster than anyone here."

Arin grabbed her arm. "Not alone. Take one of the priestesses with you. You might need magic."

Kael snorted. "You want me babysat?"

"No. I want you backed up."

Kael nodded once and disappeared into the dark with a cloak and two daggers.

Rael stayed.

When the others were gone, Arin turned to him. "You've been quiet."

"I've been watching the sky."

She followed his gaze out the window. The moon had shifted again — not red now, but black around the edges. As if being swallowed.

"What does it mean?"

Rael's voice dropped. "It means we're running out of time."

—

In the hour before dawn, Kael returned.

Bloody.

Limping.

Dragging the younger priestess behind her — unconscious.

Arin rushed to them. "What happened?"

Kael's face was pale, but hard. "We found the general's camp."

She dropped a bundle of cloth on the floor.

Inside it — a mask.

Carved from bone. Eyes lined in gold.

And still wet with blood.

"We killed one," Kael said. "But there were more."

Rael frowned. "You mean other generals?"

Kael nodded. "Three. Maybe four. And they weren't marching. They were performing a ritual."

Arin stiffened. "What kind of ritual?"

Kael's voice dropped. "They were painting with blood. On the ground. Symbols I've never seen before. And whispering."

The unconscious priestess stirred and sat up, eyes wide.

"It wasn't paint," she said.

They all turned to her.

"It was summoning. They're trying to pull something from the other side."

Arin's stomach dropped. "From beyond the veil?"

The priestess nodded. "A beast. No name. Just teeth."

Silence followed.

Rael looked to Arin. "If they unleash that thing before the moon breaks—"

"We won't survive," she finished.

Arin turned to Kael. "Can you lead us there?"

Kael's eyes glittered. "Already ready."

—

They left before the sun rose.

Twenty fighters. Arin, Rael, Kael, the priestess, and every soul brave enough to hold a sword or spell.

They rode fast.

The forest felt wrong — shadows too long, trees leaning unnaturally, the air heavy like it had teeth.

At the edge of the ritual site, Arin held up her hand.

They dismounted.

The camp was empty.

Dead fires. Blood circles. Strange runes glowing faintly in the dirt.

But no enemy in sight.

Kael swore. "They moved."

The priestess knelt beside one of the symbols. "No… they finished."

The ground beneath them trembled.

And then — it opened.

A massive crack split the earth wide, and from it, a hand reached out.

Clawed. Blackened. Burning at the fingertips.

Rael yanked Arin back. "RUN!"

But it was too late.

From the chasm, a creature rose.

Not a man. Not a god.

Something between.

Ten feet tall, hunched, with a skeletal face and a body made of twisted armor and fire. No eyes. Just endless black sockets leaking ash.

The General of Ash.

He roared.

Kael screamed, "NOW!"

Arin rushed forward, Vaelir in her hand.

The blade sang.

The creature lunged.

And the first real battle began.

—

Steel clashed. Magic cracked the air. Soldiers screamed and shadows screamed louder.

Rael fought beside Arin, his sword flashing silver.

Kael darted behind the monster, slashing its legs.

The priestess shouted an incantation, fire bursting from her hands.

The General of Ash did not bleed.

He *burned.*

But Vaelir glowed brighter each time Arin struck — absorbing the dark energy, reflecting it back.

The creature shrieked.

And then — Arin drove the sword into its chest.

Not once.

**Three times.**

On the third, a burst of light exploded from the blade.

The creature screamed a final time — and collapsed.

Ash flew into the sky like smoke rising from a funeral pyre.

And silence fell.

—

They stood panting in the broken clearing.

One general down.

Many to go.

Arin stared at the blade in her hand — no longer silver, but gleaming red.

Rael approached. "It feeds on the enemy."

She nodded. "And it's still hungry."

He looked at her. "So are you."

She didn't deny it.

Because she wasn't just fighting to break a curse anymore.

She was fighting to break history.

To write a new story.

One not of thrones or chains…

…but of fire, blood, and a girl who refused to bow.

And the war was only beginning.