Isolde wasted no time, her spatial magic enveloping herself and Daemon in a swirl of silver light. In an instant, they reappeared in the city center, where the aftermath of the battle lay scattered across the ruined arena. The most noticeable sight was Uraam, now tied up with glowing blue chains, his face contorted in a strange mix of pain and amusement.
Daemon's eyes narrowed as he approached. "What happened here?"
Brynn stepped forward, looking somewhat shaken. "He changed, Daemon. Transformed into one of those insect creatures we fought earlier."
King Feynor joined them, his gaze fixed on Uraam. "You've lost this battle," Feynor declared, his voice stern. "You may as well tell us what your plan was."
Uraam's response was a low, guttural chuckle, which quickly erupted into full-blown laughter that echoed across the square. "Hahahaha! You think this changes anything? One small skirmish, and you believe you've won?" He looked around, his eyes wild. "Lancer is but one among thousands. Your time in Alcor is almost up!"
Iris stepped closer, her expression calm but her eyes darkened with an unreadable emotion. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Uraam smirked, but the chains binding him tightened, silencing his laughter. He met Feynor's eyes defiantly. "I'm not here to answer your questions, Elf King."
Before anyone could react, Uraam let out an ear-piercing screech. His body began to convulse violently, blue lines appearing across his skin as if he were being torn apart from within.
Daemon's expression turned serious. "Everyone, step back!" he shouted, pulling Brynn away.
With a final, twisted grin, Uraam's entire body dissolved into a swirl of blue, glowing numbers that hung briefly in the air before fading into nothingness. The only sound left was the faint rustling of the wind through the wrecked city, and the tense silence that followed.
Iris scanned the space where Uraam had just disintegrated, her ethereal form shimmering faintly. "I can't feel his magic anymore," she murmured, her voice tinged with concern.
Rhedora, still brimming with residual battle energy, cursed under his breath. "Damn it! We lost a valuable source of information," he growled, clenching his fists.
Selene shot him a sharp look, her tone half-chiding. "You're one to talk, Rhedora. You just obliterated every other enemy we had, leaving no one to question."
Rhedora's ears drooped, his once-fierce expression turning sheepish. He glanced away, muttering something unintelligible. This uncharacteristic display managed to draw a small, amused smile from Feynor, who seemed to enjoy the rare moment of humility from the usually fiery beastkin.
Brynn, standing close by, looked up at Daemon with wide eyes. "What… what happened to Uraam?"
Daemon's gaze shifted to the spot where Uraam had vanished. "I'm not sure, but whatever it was, it wasn't natural."
(Aziya-Region: Unknown)
The metallic clang of footsteps echoed through a chrome-colored hallway, its polished surfaces reflecting Lancer's tense face. He moved with urgency, the air thick with the sterile scent of a laboratory. As he approached a door at the end of the corridor, he hesitated, taking a deep breath before pushing it open.
A frigid blast of air hit him immediately, making him shiver despite his thick exoskeleton. He dropped to one knee, bowing low before the shadowed figure beyond the door. The air seemed to crackle with an unnatural chill.
"The mission to recover the children has failed," Lancer reported, his voice strained.
A cold, feminine voice filled the room, soft but laced with menace. "That simply won't do," the figure responded, her tone dripping with disappointment. Frost began forming on Lancer's exoskeleton, spreading rapidly across his body. He shuddered, lowering himself even further.
"Forgive me," he stammered, his voice trembling as the cold bit deeper. The frost now spread to his limbs, cracking his shell in tiny fissures.
The figure didn't move, but her voice cut through the cold air like a knife. "Failure is something I do not tolerate. You're an embarrassment to the Empire."
Lancer's breath came out in visible puffs of air as he fought against the intense cold. "W-We managed to capture one of the children," he stammered, desperation leaking into his voice.
The icy grip on him paused, and the figure's laughter rang out, sharp and crystalline. "Well, why didn't you say so earlier?" she purred. "Where are they?"
Back at the arena, the evacuation was well underway. Soldiers moved quickly, guiding the shaken spectators out of the stadium in an orderly fashion. One soldier, his armor gleaming with the royal insignia of Myrria, approached King Rowan, kneeling respectfully before delivering his report.
"Your Majesty," he began, voice strained from urgency. "The enemies attacked the city as well. They used some sort of flying insect creatures, but we managed to fend them off. There were no survivors to interrogate."
Daemon frowned. "None of them spoke? No information at all?"
The soldier shook his head. "No, sir. They were all too aggressive, almost as if they were mindless. They didn't respond to any attempts at communication." He bowed once more before taking his leave, clearly exhausted.
King Rowan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he tried to piece together the motive behind the attack. "What was the purpose of this?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Brynn, who had been listening quietly, stepped forward. "Uraam mentioned something before he vanished," he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "He said they were here to take us… and called us 'assets to the Empire.'"
Feynor's expression darkened as he turned to the other leaders. "It's clear we cannot ignore this threat any longer. If they see our people as assets, this attack is just the beginning."
Iris nodded, her face solemn. "I agree. We must discuss our next course of action soon, but first, we need to help the injured and secure the city." She glanced at the wounded soldiers and spectators being tended to by healers nearby. "We should also be on guard. The enemy was able to infiltrate us, blending in with the children. There may still be remnants hiding in plain sight."
With a deep breath, Iris raised her hands, her entire form beginning to glow with an ethereal white light. The glow intensified, spreading outward in all directions like a wave. It washed over the entire city, bathing it in a soothing radiance.
On the ground, Zayn, who had been clutching his side in pain, felt the sudden warmth seep into his body. The pain faded away instantly, leaving him wide-eyed in astonishment. "Whoa… what kind of crazy magic is this?" he blurted out, staring at his healed wounds in disbelief.
As the light receded, Iris lowered her hands. "The city is clear of enemies," she announced, her voice calm. "For now, at least."
Just for a moment, her gaze flickered toward Daemon, a fleeting look that lasted barely a second.
Zayn's eyes narrowed as he scanned the remnants of the battlefield, his mind racing. "Wait… where's Verys?"
The others looked around, alarm setting in as they realized he was nowhere in sight. Elara folded her arms, her expression tense. "You think he was… taken? Could he have been kidnapped in all this chaos?"
King Feynor stepped forward, his voice firm. "Whether or not he was captured, we'll do everything in our power to locate him. For now, our priority is securing the capital."
Riven glanced over the shattered arena, his jaw set. "If they took Verys, they have to be planning something. We can't let this stand."
Feynor nodded. "Indeed. We must act swiftly. Reinforcements are already being deployed to fortify the city, and scouts will be sent to search for any sign of Verys or the Insectoid forces outside the walls."
"He might be a jerk but I hope he's okay... wherever he is."