The battlefield roared with chaos. Steel clashed and cries rang out through the smoke-soaked air. At the center of the bloodied plain, the General surged forward like an unstoppable beast, wielding a massive iron hammer that crushed bone and armor alike. He roared, each strike echoing like thunder, bodies scattering before him by the hundreds.
Not far behind, Torin cut through enemies with twin blades, his movements fluid and lethal. He spun and struck like a storm, his swords slicing through throats and chests as though they were parchment. His eyes, cold and focused, searched for the heart of the enemy line.
Elara raced into the fray, sword clenched in her fist, eyes aflame with fury. She heard it—Olivia's scream—raw and piercing above the noise. Her heart stilled.
"Olivia!" she cried, pushing through the horde, cutting down any who dared bar her path.
When she reached the source, she froze.
A young man stood before Olivia, his hands moving with eerie precision, and Olivia writhed in agony, her body twisting under invisible torment.
"No!" Elara screamed, surging forward—but before she could reach them, Queen Lyra appeared. With a flick of her fingers, she summoned a force that lifted Elara off the ground, drawing her through the air like a puppet.
Across the field, Quinn looked up—and saw Elara, floating helplessly toward Lyra.
With a cry, he raised his arms, calling to the waters pooled by the rain. He whispered incantations under his breath, then flung his hands forward. A torrent of water surged through the battlefield, slamming into Queen Lyra with brutal force. She was thrown back, her grip broken. Elara dropped—lifeless—to the ground.
Quinn was at her side in moments. His hands trembled as he shook her.
"Elara! Elara, wake up—please, wake up!"
There was no response.
"No!" he roared, his grief ripping through the air.
Nearby, Olivia turned slowly, her eyes locking on Quinn and the still body of Elara. Boyd's control over her faltered as white, vein-like light crawled across her skin. Energy swirled around her as she turned to face him, stepping protectively in front of Elara and Quinn.
Boyd sneered, still trying to bloodbend her. But Elara's body remained untouched, a mystery to his power.
Olivia screamed.
The sound was beyond mortal—it tore through the battlefield like a blade. Boyd's body shattered, ripped apart by the sheer force of her will.
Soldiers on both sides fell to their knees, hands over ears, blood pouring from their noses and ears. Those who couldn't shield themselves collapsed, dead.
Then Olivia rose.
She floated through the air to where Queen Lyra lay stunned and broken. With a motion of her hand, she lifted the queen into the air. Lyra tried to summon her strength, but Olivia overwhelmed her. She drew her close, embracing her—not with love, but with power.
Lyra withered in Olivia's arms. Her body dried to dust.
Olivia released her, and Lyra's corpse crumbled to the earth.
Then Olivia turned, eyes softening as she floated to where Elara still lay unmoving. She knelt beside her, the shield of wind fading around them. Gently, she reached out and touched her.
Elara did not stir.
Tears spilled from Olivia's eyes. She knew.
Duke saw it from afar and began to run, heart racing. But just as he reached them, a gust of wind threw Quinn back and pushed Duke to a halt. Olivia stood alone with Elara.
Her voice, like the echo of the divine, rang through the battlefield, speaking to her fallen sister.
"I love you… sister."
A great wind exploded from the heart of their shield. A blinding burst of light erupted into the sky. Lightning cracked overhead.
Elara gasped.
Her eyes opened to see Olivia beside her, barely breathing.
"Olivia… what have you done?" Elara cried, sitting up, hands trembling.
Olivia smiled faintly, her voice barely a whisper.
"It's in you now. Protect them. Protect our people."
She raised a hand, brushing Elara's cheek.
"I will always be with you, my queen."
Elara sobbed. "Thank you for loving me… sister."
And then Olivia, radiant in her final moment, dissolved into light and dust, scattering into the wind.
"Olivia!" Elara screamed, the cry echoing across the field.
The battle stopped.
Every soldier of El Dorado dropped their weapons and fell to their knees in surrender.
Duke reached her, pulled her into his arms, holding her as she wept. Quinn stood back, face pale, his eyes shimmering. Torin watched in silence, his heart heavy.
Vanessa stood alone, surrounded by the dead and the dying, her eyes full of sorrow as the battlefield bowed to their king Torin.
---
Later, in the palace…
Torin burst into the hall, stopping short at the sight of a masked figure.
His heart thudded.
"You," he said. "How could you?"
The young man lowered his hood.
"I didn't lead them," Aiden said, turning his gaze left. "He did."
Torin turned—and froze.
Lord Marcellus.
Elara stepped in behind them. Zarek rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
"Mother," he whispered, tears in his eyes.
Torin stared at Aiden as he removed his mask.
"You!" Duke gasped. His mother, Queen Ashley, did too.
---
That evening, at dinner…
They gathered around the table—Torin and Queen Ashley, Duke, Aiden, and Vanessa. But one seat was empty.
"Why isn't Elara here?" Torin asked.
Duke stared down at his plate.
"She's… still recovering."
Torin sighed deeply. "Hmph."
Queen Ashley tilted her head. "So, why did you help Aiden?"
Aiden hesitated. "I… I…"
Ashley smiled knowingly. "A lover. One of many, I presume."
"Mother?" Duke blinked.
She laughed softly, regal and sharp. "You think I don't know everything that happens in this palace? I'm the queen. Affairs of state… and of the heart, are all my concern. But I accepted Aiden's fate because I love him."
Vanessa glanced at Aiden, who looked away.
Ashley sipped her wine. "You think Finley was the first?"
Duke's eyes widened.
"No," Ashley said, her smile bittersweet. "Malen was."