The air grew colder as Lyria stood by the river, her tears still fresh from the painful memories of her childhood. The intimidating figure stepped from the shadows, revealing a man clad in dark, tattered robes. His sharp features were illuminated by the pale moonlight, and a sly grin spread across his face as he raised a bow, notching an arrow in one smooth motion.
Before Lyria could react, he released the arrow. It whistled through the air, aimed straight for her heart.
With a flick of her wrist, a translucent barrier of magic flared to life in front of her. The arrow disintegrated upon impact, its remnants scattering harmlessly into the night.
The man chuckled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Impressive. So, you're the famed Lyria. The one blessed with magic so pure, it's almost divine."
Lyria didn't respond immediately. Her eyes narrowed, her posture rigid as her merciless gaze pinned him in place. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
He smirked, notching another arrow. "Your magic, of course. A gift like yours doesn't belong to someone so weak. Hand it over, and I might let you live."
Lyria's lips curled into a cold smile, devoid of warmth. "You think you're worthy of my magic? You're nothing but a parasite, preying on the strong because you can't create your own power. Pathetic."
The man's grin faltered, replaced by a scowl. "You'll regret those words!" He unleashed a barrage of arrows, each infused with dark magic.
Lyria didn't flinch. With a swift motion, she conjured a shield of shimmering light, deflecting the projectiles with ease. Her voice was calm but merciless. "You should've stayed in the shadows where you belong. This will be your end."
The ground beneath her feet cracked as she released a surge of mana, the air humming with raw energy. She thrust her hand forward, sending a wave of glowing blue flames toward the thief. He barely dodged, rolling to the side as the flames scorched the ground where he once stood.
The man retaliated, summoning dark tendrils of shadow magic to ensnare her. They lunged like serpents, but Lyria countered with a burst of light magic, shredding them to pieces. Her movements were precise, her attacks relentless.
"You're good," the man admitted, panting as he retreated a step. His eyes flickered with desperation. "But I've got tricks too!"
He hurled a sphere of chaotic energy at her, its surface crackling with unpredictable power. Lyria sidestepped, raising her hand to create a blade of light. With a single slash, she cut through the sphere, dissipating it into harmless sparks.
"You fight like a cornered rat," she said coldly, her tone sharp as steel. "And just like a rat, you'll be crushed."
Despite his attempts at tricks and deception, the man was no match for Lyria's raw power. She cornered him, her blade glowing brighter with every step. As she prepared to deal the final blow, he shouted, "Help me!"
From the shadows, three figures emerged. Two men and a woman, each radiating dark magic. One of them stepped forward, his form shifting unnaturally. His body morphed and twisted until he took the shape of a familiar figure.
Lyria froze.
"Giselle?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
The shapeshifter smirked, now bearing the face and presence of her beloved sister. "You wouldn't hurt me, would you, Lyria?"
For a moment, Lyria's resolve wavered. Memories of Giselle flashed through her mind, and she lowered her blade slightly. That hesitation cost her.
The thief who had first attacked her took advantage of the moment, releasing an arrow. It struck both the shapeshifter and Lyria in one swift motion, piercing through the shapeshifter's chest before embedding itself in Lyria's abdomen.
Lyria gasped, her hands instinctively going to the wound. A burning sensation spread from the arrow, sapping her mana and strength. She staggered, her vision blurring as she fell to her knees.
The shapeshifter stared down at the arrow in disbelief. "Y.....you betrayed me?"
The first thief sneered. "You were useful, but you're expendable."
Before the shapeshifter could react, the other two thieves descended on him, ending his life without hesitation. His form reverted to its original state, lifeless and crumpled on the ground.
Lyria watched in horror, her strength waning as the poison or magic in the arrow took hold. She tried to stand, tried to summon her magic, but her body refused to obey.
The first thief turned to her, his grin triumphant. "Not so powerful now, are you?"
Despite the pain, Lyria glared at him, her eyes burning with defiance. She forced a weak smile, blood staining her lips. "You think this…..... is enough to stop me?"
With the last reserves of her mana, she unleashed a shockwave of light, sending the thieves staggering back. Her vision swam, darkness threatening to claim her, but she refused to succumb.
The thieves regrouped, their expressions wary now. They had underestimated her once, and even in her weakened state, she was dangerous.
But Lyria's strength was fading fast, and she knew she couldn't hold out much longer. Her thoughts drifted to Giselle, to the promise she had made to protect her people. She couldn't die here—not like this.
Summoning the last flicker of her magic, she prepared to make her final stand.