Under the rubble, the queen moved. Her trembling hand clutched at the stones as she slowly rose to her feet. Her face was stained with blood, a large gash running across her forehead.
She looked up at Foster. A look filled with rage and hatred.
- Miserable insect..."
His mana exploded.
A wave of pure energy swept over the place, blowing away the dust and shattering the remaining stones. A purplish light surrounded the Queen, swirling with suffocating intensity. Her monarchic aura, usually contained beneath a mask of benevolence, was finally revealed in all its brutality.
She was furious.
It was deadly.
But Foster didn't move.
He was not afraid.
In an instant, she disappeared.
A blink later, she was right in front of him. Her fist, glistening with mana, crashed into his chest.
BOOM!
The ground beneath them exploded.
The impact threw Foster several metres, tracing a trail of destruction across the city's ancient flagstones. His body lost its balance for a moment, but he pivoted, planted his foot and stopped dead in his tracks.
He raised his head.
His eyes burned with an icy gleam.
He was no longer smiling.
Without a single second's pause, the Queen went on. A shower of fiery projectiles burst from her hands, slicing through the air like invisible blades.
Foster leapt.
His body rocketed at lightning speed, narrowly dodging each projectile. Some grazed his face, tearing his skin slightly, but he didn't flinch.
Then he counter-attacked.
An incantation escaped from his legendary book, and a tide of roots burst from the ground.
They rushed at the queen with terrifying speed, splitting the air like whips of living wood.
She dodged, but Foster anticipated everything.
A moment later, he was already behind her.
His katana split the air.
A scarlet gash opened on the queen's side.
[She
screamed and her blood flowed more abundantly.
And Foster laughed.
She stepped back, one hand pressed against her wound. Her eyes burned with hatred, but also with incomprehension.
She was the queen. She was the most powerful of the woodland elves.
How... how could she lose to him?
Foster didn't give her time to think.
He hit him. And again. And again.
His katana never stopped.
Every movement was precise, surgical, vicious. He left no opening.
He wanted her to suffer.
She blocked some attacks with mana shields, but he shattered every defence with terrifying ease.
Then he trapped her.
A root sprang up beneath her and wrapped itself around her leg.
She tried to free herself, but it was too late.
Foster grabbed her face.
And crushed her skull against the ground.
BOOM.
The ground cracked under the impact.
He doesn't let go.
He lifts her head again.
And smashed her skull against the stone a second time.
BANG.
BANG.
BOOM.
Blood splattered the flagstones. The Queen's body convulsed under the blows.
And Foster laughed.
- Well, Majesty?" he breathed, leaning over her. "You're not laughing any more?
The queen gasped, half-conscious. Her body trembled with pain.
Foster stood up slowly, placing his foot on her back.
He pressed down, crushing her a little more against the floor.
- 'It's over.'
His voice was cold, implacable.
- "You thought you could catch me, kill me. But look at you now. Here you are, submissive under my foot, covered in your own blood. You're just a frog at the bottom of a well, oblivious to the terror of this world.
He knelt down slowly, his hand brushing the queen's soiled hair.
- 'If I'd still been the one before, I'd have let you live. But I'm different now.'
Lying on the broken ground, her body half-buried under the rubble, she trembled under the weight of agony. Her breath was ragged, broken by the blood flooding her lungs. Her fingers clutched weakly at the cracked stone beneath her, as if she still refused to accept reality.
But Foster felt no pity.
'You're lost.
His voice was a cold whisper, an inescapable judgement.
The queen opened her eyes with difficulty. Blood ran down her face, staining her regal beauty.
She was a ghost of herself.
Foster placed his foot against her back and slowly pressed down, forcing her to crash a little harder against the stone.
The queen was trembling. Not with pain, but with impotent rage.
She, the supreme ruler of the high elves.
She, the hunter, had become the prey.
Foster slowly drew his katana. The edge of the blade reflected a morbid glow under Fotiya's dying torches.
'Die with the shame of having been crushed.'
He lifted the blade.
And, without the slightest hesitation, he brought it down.
A sour sound. A flash of red.
The Queen's head rolled on the dusty stone.
Her body crossed one last time before collapsing for good.
Silence fell again.
The smell of blood and burnt stone still filled the air.
In the centre of the underground chamber, the lifeless body of the queen lay on the cold floor, bathed in a pool of her own blood.
Her emerald cloak was torn. Her limbs shattered by the violence of battle. Her mask of benevolence was gone, replaced by a face frozen in stupor.
His gaze, once imbued with wisdom and mastery, was now an eternal void.
The throne of the High Elves had lost its sovereign.
Foster stared impassively at the corpse of his enemy. He felt nothing. No satisfaction, no glory, no regret.
Just an abysmal emptiness.
Then, a noise behind him.
Foster slowly turned his head.
A dozen silhouettes frozen in the shadows of the ruins.
Kassandre.
The elite knights.
The Queen's soldiers.
They were all there. Tetanised.
Their greetings riveted on him. No... over the decapitated head of their sovereign, bathed in a pool of blood.
There was an icy silence. Then a soldier's howl broke the torpor.
'MONSTER!'
Kassandra took a step back. Her usually stoic face was livid, distorted by pure horror.
'No... it can't be...'
Foster didn't move. His gaze met that of the knight.
For a moment, he thought he saw a gleam of incomprehension in her eyes. As if she didn't want to believe what she was seeing.
But that flicker died immediately.
In its place, only disgust remained.
- You saw what he did...' whispered one of the knights.
- 'He killed the Queen...'
- 'He... he must die!'
Foster sighed.
- 'As if you could kill me.'
Without warning, he leapt.
His body became a fleeing shadow, disappearing into the darkness of the ruins before anyone could react.
- 'DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!' a knight shouted.
But it was too late.
Foster was already far away.
Kassandra's point of view:
Her eyes widen as she takes in the carnage.
- 'By the gods...'
Her breath caught as she caught sight of the Queen's body.
One of the soldiers collapsed to his knees in shock.
Another murmured, his voice trembling:
- 'Is she... dead?'
No one answered.
Kassandra approached slowly, each step sounding like condemnation.
She knelt beside the corpse.
Her gloved hand brushed the broken body of her sovereign. The sticky blood stuck to her fingers.
She clenched her jaw.
Then her gaze rose, scanning the room.
Her heart began to beat faster.
She looked up at the gutted ceiling, where the moonlight was shining through the fading.
A cold gust of wind swept through the room.
Her mind refused to admit the obvious.
What she had seen a few moments earlier... it wasn't Foster any more.
It was something else.
Someone chose far more dangerous.
- 'He showed no hesitation.'
Her voice was icy.
She clenched her fists.
He'd crushed the queen like an insect.
He hadn't killed her out of rage.
He had killed her because she was in his way.
A shadow crept into his mind.
- 'He's no longer a wood elf. He's no longer a soldier of the realm.'
She slowly straightened her head.
- 'He's a monster.'
The soldiers around her exchanged dark looks.
They had all seen the same thing.
The being that had stood before them... had gone beyond the limits of comprehension.
There was nothing they could do.
Foster had destroyed their queen and disappeared into the darkness.
Kassandra took a deep breath, then revealed herself.
She took one last look at the sovereign's corpse.
And declares in an implacable voice:
- We are returning to Vollua. Wrap the Queen's body in one of your capes and let's go'.
The soldiers didn't reply and went about their business.
Vollua, Royal City of the High Elves
The great council chamber was immersed in a heavy atmosphere.
High pillars of black marble rose up to a vault finely carved with ancient runes. Candles hung on the walls, casting a flickering light on the closed faces of the council members.
Around the imposing stone table, draped in a tapestry embroidered with the monarchy's coat of arms, the ancient families of the High Elves were gathered.
Lineages as ancient as the forest itself.
There was absolute silence, waiting for news of all this history.
Then the heavy doors opened.
Kassandra entered the room. Her figure, still covered in dust and blood, contrasted with the cold elegance of the assembled nobles.
She knelt down on one knee.
- 'I bring a report.'
A murmur passed through the assembly.
The voice of the Grand Chancellor, an old elf with piercing eyes and a back stooped by centuries, echoed through the room:
- 'Speak, Kassandra Orwen, knight of the royal elite.'
Kassandra took a deep breath.
And she lets out the truth.
- 'The queen has been slaughtered.'
An icy gasp runs through the room.
The nobles froze.
Some widened their eyes.
Others, like Duke Faëlorn, merely gave an almost imperceptible sneer.
Then came the explosion.
- Lies!' thundered one of the councillors.
- Impossible!' choked a noblelfes.
Another stepped forward briskly, his long azure cloak rustling behind him. His golden eyes shone with icy anger.
- By whom?' he demanded in a sharp voice.
Kassandra revealed her chin.
She left no hesitation in her answer.
- 'By a young lower elf called Foster Vergadreen.'
A stony silence fell.
Then the storm broke.
- 'A FARCE!' shouted an elf with an emaciated face. 'A traitor of low extraction could NOT kill our queen!'
- 'That's unthinkable!' echoed another.
- 'Who was there?'
- 'Me, and the Queen's squad.'
- 'And you say he killed her UNDER YOUR EYES?'
Kassandra felt anger welling up inside her.
- 'If you were there, you'd understand.' She planted her gaze in the nobleman's. 'You would have seen the monstrosity he has become.'
The words echoed around the room.
Certain figures among the elders remained silent. Too silent.
Duke Faëlorn, hitherto motionless, finally rested his elbow on the armrest of his seat. His ringed fingers absently brushed his chin.
Then, in a neutral voice, he murmured:
- 'What exactly has become of him?'
Kassandra frowned.
- He's no longer a Wood Elf.'
The whole assembly stared at her.
- 'Explain yourself.'
She clenched her fists.
Before she could reply, suddenly at the far end of the hall, the great doors opened again.
And a figure entered.
She advanced with a ready, measured step.
Her jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting with the white dress embroidered in gold that hugged her regal form.
Her piercing deep-blue gaze swept the room.
An icy gaze.
Unfathomable.
The entire assembly bowed. She walked straight to the throne and sat on it. The throne, once occupied by the queen, was now occupied by a young elf standing silently, her impassive face masking an inner turmoil.
Her silver hair cascaded over her armour, and her deep blue pupils reflected a sharp intelligence.
Illynée Valthéris.
The Queen's heiress.
His gaze was fixed, cold, but a spark of contained rage burned in the depths of his eyes.
- Go on. were her only words.
In front of this assembly, Kassandra exhaled slowly before speaking.
- We pursued Foster to the ruins of Fotiya.
Her voice was controlled, but an underlying tension betrayed her confusion.
- 'We continued on in the footsteps of the Queen, who had left us behind because we were too slow. We found him later in an ancient room, Foster had just executed the queen... without the slightest hesitation. Or at least what looked like Foster?'
- What do you mean? asked the princess.
- His appearance... has changed, his behaviour, his fighting power, everything about him has changed.
The noble elves leaned forward slightly.
There was a heavy silence.
- His skin is paler than before. Not sickly, but almost... luminous, as if he were made of a different essence. His hair, once black, is now an immaculate white, but not an ordinary white...'
She pauses, searching for words.
- ... a spectral white, silvery under the light, as if it were capturing the reflections of the world around it.'
A shiver runs through the ranks of the elders.
The wiser ones didn't let on, but their hearts had suddenly grown heavy.
She continued, unaware of what she was about to reveal.
- 'His eyes... they were no longer those of a woodland elf.'
She clenches her fists.
- 'They used to be a dark brown. Now... they're a luminescent green, intense, almost supernatural. When he looks at you, it's as if something in him sees beyond your body, beyond your soul. As if you were...'
She hesitates.
- '...inferior.'
An icy silence falls over the room.
Even Illynea, though impassive from the start, had stiffened slightly.
- 'It can't be...' whispered a noblewoman in an almost inaudible voice.
Kassandra ignored them and continued, feeling her heart quicken as she thought of the aura he gave off.
- His body was more slender... more perfect, in a disturbing way. He no longer moved like a simple fighter. His movements were absolutely graceful, devoid of hesitation, as if he were...'
She searches for a suitable comparison.
- ...to decide the life or death of every elf.'
An invisible shiver ran through the assembly.
The elders understood.
They knew what these changes meant.
But they leave nothing transparent.
They exchanged brief glances between themselves, reading the same conclusion in the eyes of their fellow creatures.
They had heard about this appearance before.
In old stories.
In stories so old that even the memory of the elves wanted to forget them.
But they said nothing.
They would keep this secret to themselves. Because what Kassandra had just described... It was the appearance of a being who should never have existed.
A noble narrative contained and calmly asked a question:
- 'Did he say anything before he disappeared?'
Kassandra lowered her eyes slightly, as if forcing herself to remember the scene. Then, slowly, she raised her head. Her voice was icy.
- 'He smiled.'
The assembly held its breath.
- 'A smile I'd never seen on him before. A cruel smile.'
She clenched her fists.
- 'Then he looked at us, and he whispered.... 'You are nothing.''
Silence fell in the room, muffling even the breathing of the nobles. It was not an insult. It was not a provocation. It was a statement of fact. It was as if he no longer recognised his former comrades as equals. As if they were no longer worthy of his gaze. An invisible weight fell on the room.
A murmur passed between the nobles, a single word, whispered like an ominous portent:
- 'The Avatar of an Ancient Scourge...'
Illynea had not moved.
Her golden gaze remained fixed on Kassandra.
Then, slowly, she rose to her feet.
Her aura, cold and impenetrable, spread across the room like a tide.
- Foster is no longer a woodland elf.'
His voice, as sharp as the edge of a blade, froze the room.
- 'He is an enemy of the realm.'
Her eyes sparkled.
- 'And as the new sovereign...'
She inhaled deeply, letting her gaze sweep over the assembly.
- 'I swear that we will hunt him down to the last breath.'
Her words echoed around the room. One by one, the nobles bowed in silence. Foster's fate had just been sealed.