The blade of her sword burned with an eerie blaze, slick with her own blood as it dripped steadily onto the ground. Though she looked no older than forty, she had lived for thousands of years, her presence radiating both power and the weight of eternity.
With every swing, she painted the walls crimson, her movements deliberate and unyielding. Beside her stood two companions: Lyra, a green-scaled dragon girl whose sorrowful eyes betrayed her inner turmoil, and Liora, a tiny fairy glowing softly, darting through the chaos like a fleeting spark.
As the battle raged, Lyra moved swiftly to heal Freya's wounds, her touch gentle yet strong. At the same time, Liora hovered near, cleansing the blood from Freya's sword with a flicker of purifying magic, readying it for the next strike.
Amidst the chaos, the sharp clicking of heels echoed through the bloodstained hall. The trio turned, their gazes locking onto the approaching figure. It was the queen of Noctis, her expression twisted with hatred as her eyes fell upon the scene before her—the lifeless bodies of her citizens strewn across the floor, encircled by the trio.
"The ones who dare slaughter my people..." the queen's voice was cold, her words slicing through the air like a blade. She paused, her piercing gaze sweeping over the trio. "A dragon, a fairy, and... well, this is something new."
Her eyes lingered on Freya, narrowing slightly. "You look human, but you're not, are you?"
Freya met the queen's gaze, her own eyes blazing like twin suns. The blood dripping from her sword hissed as it met the floor, evaporating in the heat of her weapon's infernal fire. Her lips curled into a bitter smirk.
"No," Freya replied, her voice low and carrying the weight of her years. "I was human once, long ago. But not anymore."
The queen's expression hardened. "That would explain the stench of eternity clinging to you. An abomination," she hissed.
Behind Freya, Lyra flinched, her scaled hands trembling as she tightened her grip on her staff. "We didn't come here to slaughter your people!" she protested, her voice shaky but determined. "This… this wasn't supposed to happen!"
Liora, hovering close to Freya's shoulder, added softly, "We tried to avoid this. You left us no choice." Her voice, usually light and airy, was laced with sorrow.
The queen's crimson eyes flicked toward them briefly before returning to Freya. "You claim justification for this massacre? Do not insult me with excuses." She took a step forward, her black gown trailing behind her like a shadow. "You'll pay for every life you've taken. The gods themselves will see to it."
Freya chuckled darkly. "The gods? Tell me, your majesty, where were your gods when you butchered the innocents of Elysia? Where were they when you tore my family from this world?"
The queen's lips pressed into a thin line, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of something—anger, guilt, perhaps fear.
"You don't understand the price of peace," the queen said coldly, summoning a blackened blade into her hand. "But I'll make sure you regret stepping into my kingdom."
Freya stepped forward, her burning blade raised, its heat warping the air around it. "I regret nothing."
Lyra hesitated, looking between Freya and the queen, her claws gripping her staff tighter. "Freya, we don't have to fight her… There has to be another way!"
Freya glanced back at her companion, her smirk softening. "There's no other way, Lyra. Not anymore."
Liora's tiny hands glowed as she readied her magic, her wings fluttering nervously. "Then let's finish this quickly. I don't want to see more blood spilled than necessary."
The queen raised her blade, her power surging as darkness enveloped the room. "You'll find I'm not so easily defeated."
And with that, the clash began—a battle between eternity's weight and the vengeance of a forsaken soul.