Ararat‘s voice dropped to a steely murmur. “If we meet them head-on, we will be crushed. Our only hope is to fortify these walls and pray for rescue… I have already sent word to a few old comrades in Swordmaster City. May fond memories move them to fight alongside us.”

Jared shook his head, amber eyes lit by a stubborn flame. “We can‘t wait. If Lester is bold enough to march here, has prepared for every delay. Each minute we hesitate tilts the field against us.”

He swept his gaze over the anxious faces crowding the hall. “If they appear at dawn, I’ll step outside and greet Lester myself.”

“Absolutely not!” Corin darted forward. “Lester is at the eighth level of the Earthly Immortal Realm. You are nowhere near his equal.”

Jared offered a smile that barely touched his eyes. “Trust me, Master Morden. I have a way.”

He raised his hand, and the storage ring on his finger gleamed. A bow slid into the starlight, its frame obsidian black, filigreed with tangled gold sigils. A hush of dragon’s power coiled around the weapon.

Ararat‘s pupils pinpointed. “That… That is the Divine Bow. I thought it lost to legend, yet you hold it in your hands!”