Tiara's sharp gaze swept across the battlefield, her malice palpable. Her steps were unhurried as she absorbed the chaos, her every movement radiating dominance. Slowly, she inhaled the air thick with blood and mana, her eyes narrowing as her expression shifted into one of sharp disbelief.
"What is this…?" she murmured, her voice barely audible but laced with a cold edge. Her nostrils flared, and her lips curled into a dangerous smile. "Reishi of a deity…? This should be impossible."
Her glowing eyes, gleaming with malice, shifted to Eryndor, who stood resolute with his sword ready. The faint smile on her lips turned mocking as her gaze bore into him, cutting deeper than any weapon.
"So, this is what your kingdom offers?" she said with venom, her tone icy. Her gaze then moved to Vekris and Nyra, bound by Poll's golden threads.
"Pathetic," she hissed, her disdain dripping with malice. "You can't even handle a few humans?"
Vekris, trembling under her gaze, forced his head to bow. "Forgive me, my lady. I am ashamed." His voice was strained, as though even speaking under her scrutiny was unbearable.
Before he could say more, Poll's gloves pulsed with a golden light. Threads tightened around Vekris and Nyra, snapping their mouths shut. The sudden action silenced them, leaving only the faint sound of crackling energy in the air.
Tiara's gaze snapped to Poll, her cold amusement replaced by intrigue. "So," she said, her voice like velvet laced with steel, "you're the spell caster." Her eyes narrowed as she assessed him, her curiosity laced with veiled hostility.
From the shadows, Celestia launched an attack, moving with deadly precision. Her blade, glowing with enchanted power, aimed for the back of Tiara's neck.
Tiara's expression remained unbothered, her eyes not even turning toward Celestia. "Nice move," she muttered, almost bored, "but useless."
With an almost imperceptible flick of her wrist, the air around her shimmered. Celestia's attack halted mid-swing as an invisible force snapped her arm backward with a sickening crack. The queen let out a sharp cry of pain, stumbling as her weapon fell to the ground.
Tiara finally turned, her eyes glowing with a deep, unnatural hue. "Was that your best, Queen Celestia?"
Poll's sharp gaze followed Tiara as she moved like a predator across the battlefield. Every gesture she made exuded power and malice. As her grip tightened around Celestia's arm, the sickening sound of bone snapping echoed. Celestia cried out, and the sound chilled Poll to the core.
She's too strong, Poll thought, his mind racing. I can't stop her. Not now. Not like this. The glowing threads on his gloves dimmed as his spell collapsed, its remnants useless against the overwhelming force in front of him. His breath quickened, a tremor running through his body as he struggled to keep himself together. What do I do? What can I do?
The battlefield was in chaos, yet it felt silent to Poll as his panic consumed him.
Suddenly, a blur of motion broke through his spiraling thoughts. Eryndor charged with a thunderous roar, the ground trembling beneath his boots. His sword radiated with a fierce, golden light, its hum vibrating in the air, as if the weapon itself resonated with his fury. His speed was unlike anything Poll had seen before. His aura had shifted, darker, sharper—his movements calculated and deadly.
"I am sick of you all," Eryndor growled, his voice heavy with rage. His sword swung with brutal precision, forcing Tiara to release Celestia and step back. For the first time, a flicker of surprise crossed her face.
"Third Form: Shroud of the Abyss…" Eryndor's voice trailed off, his power intensifying, but before he could strike, a choked cry pierced the air.
"Mother!" Elowen's voice rang out as she turned toward the source of the sound.
Seraphina fell to the ground.
"Mother!" Poll's scream tore from his throat as he watched her collapse, blood pooling beneath her. Her breaths were shallow, her skin pallid. She was conscious but barely hanging on.
Eryndor's world shattered the moment Seraphina collapsed. Her body crumpled to the blood-soaked ground, her breaths shallow and labored. Time seemed to slow as he dropped to his knees beside her, his hands trembling as he reached for her.
"Seraphina!" His voice cracked, the desperation raw and palpable. He gently cradled her face, his calloused fingers brushing away strands of blood-matted hair. Her once-bright eyes fluttered weakly, struggling to meet his gaze.
Elowen rushed to Seraphina, kneeling beside her, her hands glowing with faint healing magic. "Hold on," she urged, her voice trembling as she worked. But even Elowen's expression betrayed the truth—she couldn't stop the bleeding fast enough.
Seraphina's lips parted, but no words came out. A faint smile graced her face, one of bittersweet acceptance.
"No," Eryndor growled, shaking his head. "Don't you dare. You hear me? You're not leaving. Not like this." He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice a broken whisper. "You promised me… we promised each other. You can't break that now."
"Mother…" Poll whispered, his voice barely audible, his heart pounding against his ribs.
Celestia staggered to her feet, cradling her broken arm. "Don't… let your guard down," she warned, her voice strained and weak.
But Tiara wasn't finished. She raised a hand, flicking her fingers through the air, and Poll's remaining mist spell disintegrated in an instant. The golden threads binding Vekris and Nyra unraveled as though they were never there.
"Get up, you two idiots," Tiara said coldly, her crimson eyes glaring at her subordinates.
Vekris and Nyra scrambled to their feet, their heads bowed low in shame. "Forgive us, my lady," they said in unison, their voices filled with fear.
Poll's mind raced. They're free now. It's over. She's going to kill us all.
With blinding speed, Tiara appeared before him. Her icy fingers brushed against his throat, then his cheek. Poll flinched, his body trembling under her oppressive aura.
Tiara's eyes burned into his. "You're one of those, aren't you?" she said, her voice a chilling whisper. "The boy with all that precious knowledge locked inside your little head." Her lips curled into a cruel smile. "You're mine now."
"Poll!" Elowen shouted, breaking into a sprint. Her golden mana sword shimmered as she lunged for Tiara, her movements fueled by desperation.
Tiara didn't even turn.
Vekris intercepted the strike, catching Elowen's blade with his bare hand. The impact sent shockwaves through the air. With a savage grin, Vekris retaliated, his fist cloaked in dark energy as it crashed into Elowen's shield.
The shield cracked under the pressure.
Vekris didn't hesitate. His next strike aimed directly for Elowen's neck.
Poll's breath hitched as he watched, his voice caught in his throat. Do something! Do something!
But before the blow could land, Liana intervened. Her twin blades clashed against Vekris's attack, the collision sending sparks flying.
"Elowen! Are you okay?" Liana asked, her voice steady despite the chaos.
"I'm fine," Elowen panted, though her hands trembled as she steadied herself. "Thank you."
"Stay with me," Eryndor whispered, his tone both a command and a plea. "Please… don't leave me." His voice broke, his jaw tightening as he fought the tears threatening to spill. The unshakable warrior, the stalwart protector, was reduced to a man clinging desperately to the love of his life.
Seraphina's eyes fluttered open for a brief moment. She turned her gaze to Poll, her voice weak and broken. "Poll… Listen to me."
Poll stood frozen, his body paralyzed not by magic but by influence of tiara and sheer terror. His mind screamed at him to move, to act, but his legs wouldn't respond. His mother's labored breaths, the blood staining her robes, the anguish on Eryndor's face—it was all too much.
Poll's chest tightened as he knelt, tears streaming down his face. "Mother…" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Her eyes bore into his, a quiet strength radiating from them. "You've always been… so strong. So brilliant. I've never doubted you… not even for a second."
Seraphina's gaze softened, a tear sliding down her cheek. "You're my greatest creation, my proudest achievement," she whispered. Her hand faltered, falling limply to her side.
"No!" Poll screamed, his voice echoing across the battlefield.
Eryndor sat frozen, his head bowed low, his shoulders hunched as though the weight of the world had crushed him. His entire being trembled, but no words came. Only a low, guttural sound escaped him—a sound of grief too deep to articulate.
"Seraphina…" he murmured, his voice hollow. He took her other hand, pressing it to his forehead. "Please… don't leave us. Don't leave me."
Seraphina's lips moved, forming one last word: "Protect…"
Her eyes closed, her body going still.
"No… no, no, no!" Poll's voice cracked as he stumbled forward, his hands trembling. A wave of emotions crashed over him—grief, rage, helplessness.
Tiara's smile widened as she watched his despair. She leaned closer, her voice soft yet dripping with malice. "It's over," she whispered.
Poll's expression darkened, his trembling hands slowly stilling. His eyes, once filled with panic, grew cold.
For a moment, the battlefield stilled.