Marye Anne: “My sons… hear me across the veil. The enemy marches beneath a sky that rejects the dawn. Their numbers swell like a tide of iron and shadow. If you do not hold here, the path to our kingdom will lie open, and the Queen’s Castle will stand defenseless before them.” Her ghostly form flickers — regal, sorrowful, radiant with old magic. Marye Anne: “Sir Allen stands at the Keep as your father once did — brothers in all but blood, bound by oath and battle. He holds the line for you now, as your father held it for him. If the Keep falls, the heart of our land will be laid bare. You must stand. You must endure. For the kingdom… for our people… for the legacy of your father.” Troy: “Brothers and sisters — look at the ground beneath your feet. Every inch of it was bought by those who stood before us, and today it is our turn to stand. The enemy believes we will break, but they have forgotten who we are — we rise when others fall. If we hold here, our people live; if we falter, the darkness takes everything we love. So steel your hearts, lift your heads, and remember this: we fight not for glory, but for each other. And today, we show the world that this Veilleux Band of Brothers does not run. WE FIGHT!!!” A roar erupts from the mercenaries — shields pounding, boots stomping, voices rising in fierce unity. Sir TJ steps forward, bows his head in deep respect, his blessed sword glowing faintly in the dawn light. Old Ben adjusts his shield, muttering under his breath: Old Ben: “Good speech… loud enough to wake the dead.” A few mercenaries snort with laughter. Troy: “Eric — take your squad to the left ridge and shadow their scouts. Druna — hold the center line and don’t give an inch. Old Ben — anchor the right flank and keep it standing. Sir TJ — form the shield wall behind me. My team — with me at the front.” As the squads move into position, Hagan “Two‑Step” stumbles over a loose stone and face‑plants into the dirt. Hagan: “I’m ok, I’m ok. Nothing to see here.” A ripple of laughter moves through the ranks. Eric — who rarely shows emotion — lets the corner of his mouth twitch upward before forcing it back down. Druna steps close, voice low and teasing: “You lead from the front, Troy… Just try not to get yourself killed before I get to show you how impressed I am.” Troy: “Ahhh… Druna… My heart is with Maral.” Druna smirks — not offended, but intrigued — a warrior respecting another’s devotion. Annie: “Eric — please… be careful.” She pulls him into a tight embrace. A quick kiss on his cheek — warm, grounding, full of fear and love. Annie: “Come back to me.” Eric: “I will.” A flash of white light — Annie and Chesa vanish into the ether. Troy: “We’ve beaten worse odds than this. We’ve stood against monsters that should have ended us. We’ve survived curses, storms, and nightmares that broke better men. We are still here because we refuse to kneel. Today, we stand again — not for glory, but for each other. And if the world wants to burn, it will burn around us, not through us.”
