Teela: Heart of the Battle Cry by Jade Gretz

https://www.deviantart.com/jadegretzai/art/Teela-Heart-of-the-Battle-Cry-1259870774

The Night at Grayskull’s Gate

The sky above Castle Grayskull had long since forgotten the sun. What had begun as a twilight storm rolled into a darkness so profound it seemed to devour time itself. For three days—though time had become an unreliable narrator—the night refused to lift. Even the moon, when it appeared at all, shone like a wounded silver eye blinking behind tornado-thick clouds.

Teela stood upon the ramparts, her red hair a coiled banner in the pelting wind, her spear resting across her back like a second spine. The torches sputtered in the gusts, yielding only the faintest illumination. Not that she needed it. Every shadow already carried a threat.

She had not slept since the darkness came.

And the darkness brought whispers.

They slithered beneath her helm and behind her thoughts: Come down… open the gate… let us through, daughter of destiny…

Her resolve never wavered, but her pulse grew a little faster each time she heard that serpent-soft murmur.

The Sorceress had warned her before retreating inside the castle’s inner sanctum.

“Teela,” she said, her voice as soft and fierce as a mother hawk’s cry, “I must commune with the ancient energies. I will be unreachable until dawn.”

Teela had frowned. “And dawn refuses to come.”

The Sorceress gave a grave nod. “Precisely why I must act. The darkness is no natural night. Something has cast Eternia into a veil of unending eclipse. Its agents will test you… and they will tempt you. Hold the gates. No matter the shape the enemy wears, no matter the words it speaks—do not yield.”

Then she vanished in a trail of emerald fire.

Now Teela stood alone in the storm, captain of an army reduced to one.

A tremor coursed beneath her boots.

Then another.

Then a chorus of them, shaking the ancient stones.

Teela gripped the hilt of her sword. “So,” she whispered to the night, “you have decided to begin.”

A voice rose from below the cliffside, a guttural chant joined by dozens more. Teela stepped forward and peered into the gloom.

Shapes moved. Many shapes.

Their outlines flickered like candle shadows, their forms shifting between what they once were and what they had become.

Former soldiers of Eternia.

Now wraithbound.

They were led by a figure tall as a siege tower, swathed in tattered robes darker than the night itself. No face sat within the hood—only a cavern, an emptiness so deep Teela felt it claw at her courage.

The wind carried its words to her like broken glass.

“Guardian… open the gate…”

Teela drew her sword, raising the blade high. “Come try to make me.”

Out of the shadows, a smaller figure stepped forward—lean, agile, cloaked in the thinnest membrane of mist. He had a man’s shape and a man’s height, but his skin gleamed faintly, translucent as river water. His eyes glowed with soft blue light.

When he spoke, the syllables were smooth, almost tender.

“We can talk, you know.”

Teela narrowed her gaze. “Can we?”

“I prefer it.” His smile was slight, bemused. “You look cold. Exhausted. No one should fight alone for so long.”

“Save your breath, phantom.”

He placed a hand over what would have been a chest. “Phantom? No, no. I was once Captain Meryn of the Eastern Barricade. I defended Eternia long before you were born.”

Teela paused—despite herself. “Meryn died two decades ago.”

He sighed. “I died, yes. But not all debts end at death.”

She steadied her grip. “What debt do you think you’re repaying by assaulting Grayskull?”

“Not repaying. Collecting.” His voice grew softer. “Let us in, Teela. This war is older than you. You need rest. I’ve seen warriors pushed to madness by far less than the night we face now.”

The hooded giant behind him let out a rumbling growl. Meryn raised a placating hand.

“Please,” he said gently, turning toward her again. “Your heart is strong, but hearts break. You’ve been awake too long. Let me lighten the burden.”

Teela lifted her sword. “Step closer, and I’ll lighten your head from your shoulders.”

He chuckled—a warm, strangely human sound. “That temper of yours… I remember stories of it. You were always destined for greatness. But greatness need not be so lonely.”

“Lonely?” she spat. “I stand for Eternia.”

“And Eternia is asleep.” His tone was twined with a strange seduction—not romantic, but intim
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