The world seemed to slow as Elara faced Tristan from the battlements, her heart pounding in her chest. The storm overhead raged on, dark clouds swirling as if mirroring the battle that was about to unfold. Below her, the battle for the city continued, but all the noise faded into the background. All that mattered now was the dark figure standing before her—the man who had caused so much death, so much destruction.
Tristan, cloaked in dark armor, his eyes burning with malevolent power, sneered at her. "You think you can stop me? I've seen what little magic you have. You're nothing."
Elara felt the old magic stirring within her, a low hum that grew louder and louder with every beat of her heart. She was not the same person she had been when she first fled the palace. She had grown stronger, wiser, and now she carried the weight of her father's legacy. The old magic coursing through her veins responded to her anger, her determination. She raised her chin, standing tall despite the fear gnawing at her insides.
"I'm more than you know," she said, her voice clear and strong.
Tristan laughed, but there was no warmth in it. He raised his hand, and the air crackled with dark energy. "Let's see just how much power you really have, princess."
With a flick of his wrist, Tristan sent a bolt of dark magic hurtling toward her. Elara reacted instinctively, raising her hands and summoning the ancient magic within her. A shimmering shield of light appeared in front of her, absorbing the blast and dissipating it into the stormy air.
Tristan's eyes narrowed in surprise. "So, you've learned a few tricks. But it won't be enough."
Elara didn't respond. She couldn't afford to be distracted by his taunts. Instead, she reached deeper into the magic, feeling it rise up like a wave. With a swift motion, she thrust her hands forward, sending a blast of pure, blinding energy straight at Tristan. The force of it slammed into him, knocking him back several feet.
For a moment, Elara dared to hope that she had gained the upper hand. But then Tristan straightened, his armor glowing faintly with dark runes that absorbed the light magic. His smile was cold, and his eyes gleamed with dark amusement.
"You'll have to do better than that."
Before Elara could react, Tristan unleashed a torrent of dark magic, a swirling mass of shadows that rushed toward her like a tidal wave. Elara braced herself, but the force of it was too strong. It slammed into her, sending her flying back across the battlements. She hit the stone hard, pain radiating through her body, but she forced herself to her feet, gasping for breath.
Tristan advanced on her, his power growing with every step. The shadows seemed to cling to him, making him appear larger, more monstrous. Elara could feel the darkness pressing in on her, suffocating her. The magic inside her flickered, weakened by the overwhelming force of Tristan's attack.
For a brief, terrifying moment, doubt crept into her mind. Was this it? Was she truly strong enough to defeat him?
No. She couldn't think like that. She couldn't let him win. She thought of her mother, her people, Garrick—everyone who was counting on her. She couldn't fail them now. She wouldn't.
With a deep breath, Elara closed her eyes and reached deep into herself, searching for the source of the old magic. She could feel it, a powerful current running through her veins, ancient and untamable. It wasn't something she could control with sheer will alone. She had to trust it, let it guide her.
The magic responded, surging up like a river breaking free of a dam. It flowed through her, filling every part of her body with light and energy. She opened her eyes, and the world around her seemed to glow with a faint, golden light.
Tristan hesitated, sensing the shift in power. "What is this?"
Elara didn't answer. She didn't need to. The magic roared to life around her, swirling in a radiant vortex of light. She could feel it burning through her, stronger than anything she had ever felt before. This was the power of her bloodline, the power her father had carried before her.
With a cry, Elara unleashed the magic. It shot from her like a blinding beam of light, tearing through the stormy sky and slamming into Tristan with the force of a hurricane. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and the very air seemed to crackle with energy.
Tristan screamed as the light engulfed him, his dark magic crumbling under the weight of Elara's power. His armor cracked, the runes shattering one by one, and the shadows that clung to him dissolved into nothingness. For the first time, Elara saw fear in his eyes.
"No!" Tristan snarled, struggling to fight back. But it was too late. Elara's magic overwhelmed him, consuming him in a torrent of light.
With one final, desperate cry, Tristan collapsed to the ground, his body dissolving into ash. The dark magic that had once surrounded him vanished, leaving only silence in its wake.
---
The battlefield was eerily quiet as the storm clouds began to break apart, revealing patches of clear sky. The dark soldiers, once empowered by Tristan's magic, faltered and fell, their strength draining away as their leader was defeated.
Elara stood in the center of it all, her chest heaving with exhaustion. The magic still pulsed faintly around her, but it was no longer wild and uncontrollable. It was a part of her now, fully integrated into her being.
Garrick, bruised and battered but alive, rushed toward her. "Elara!" he called, his voice filled with relief.
She turned to him, her legs weak from the battle, and he caught her just as she stumbled, pulling her into his arms. For a moment, they just stood there, holding each other amidst the ruins of the battlefield.
"You did it," Garrick whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You won."
Elara leaned against him, her heart still racing. "We did it," she corrected softly.
All around them, the city's defenders began to cheer. The battle was over, and Tristan was gone. The darkness that had plagued their kingdom for so long had been defeated.
But as Elara looked out over the battlefield, she knew that this was only the beginning. Rebuilding the kingdom, healing the wounds left by Tristan's reign, would take time and effort. But for the first time in a long time, she felt hope.
She had embraced her destiny, and with Garrick by her side, she was ready to lead her people into a brighter future.