Beyond the marshes rose Copper Ridge, home to the Storm Crow Sect, who thrived on brutality. They terrorized mountain passes, demanding impossible tolls, torturing those who refused. When farmers loyal to the Ember Circle ventured to Copper Ridge with supplies, the Storm Crows ambushed them. Now, the time had come for retribution.
Ember Blazes led a strike force up rocky trails at twilight. Wind keened through narrow defiles. The Storm Crows waited, crossbows ready, hoping to skewer intruders from above. But Ember scouts anticipated the tactic. At Lyrus' instruction, one squad advanced openly while another circled behind, climbing precarious ledges to flank the enemy.
A bolt thudded into a Flame's shield, splintering wood. Instead of panicking, the Ember fighters pressed forward, shields raised. The Storm Crows unleashed another volley—some found flesh, eliciting pained cries. Yet still the Embers advanced. Then, Alyra's archers, hidden above, launched a counter-barrage. Crows screamed as arrows struck their exposed flanks. Trapped, they dropped crossbows, scrambling for swords.
The clash turned vicious. Steel rang against steel, sparks showering stone. A Crow captain lunged at a wounded Spark, intent on finishing him off. Lyrus intervened, seizing the captain's arm and driving a fist into his gut. The captain retched, eyes bulging, before Lyrus hurled him aside like garbage. Another Crow warrior tried a desperate charge and paid in blood as an Ember Flame's blade bit deep into his collarbone, spraying red across the rock.
Some Crows attempted to flee, but the flanking squad cut off escape routes. Cornered, they fought savagely, leaving the ground slick with gore. Yet the Ember Circle never lost composure. Blazes directed formations, Flames executed disciplined strikes, and Sparks showed surprising courage. By the time the last Crow threw down his sword and begged for mercy, it was clear who ruled these mountains now.