Chapter 59 – Duel of Emissaries
Jean stepped forward, Luxclade raised, its holy fire licking the air.
The Iron Empress—Alarienne—watched her with eyes that once might have known mercy. But no longer. The power radiating from her was monstrous. Heavy. She wore her shard of Severra's soul like a stolen crown, binding divinity in a cage of iron.
"You shouldn't exist," Alarienne said softly. "Severra should've perished in the fall."
Jean's grip tightened. "She survived. Through me. Through flame. Through light."
A whisper stirred in her ears—Severra, awakened and furious.
"That woman once stood beside me in the halls of the Skyborn Throne. She was beautiful, proud... and when Vorokhal offered power, she bowed."
Alarienne's sword, Judgement Reforged, ignited with voidfire. A blade once holy, now corrupted.
"The gods betrayed us," the Empress said. "Celeste, Severra, the whole pantheon. They watched as mortals died, as dragons burned cities, and did nothing. So I made a pact. With the one god who promised change."
Jean circled her, Whitney growling low beside her.
"You speak of change," Jean said, "but you rule through fear. You forge chains instead of hope."
Alarienne's voice hardened. "Hope is a lie the gods feed you to keep you weak."
And then the duel began.
Steel screamed.
Luxclade met Judgement Reforged, and the chamber quaked with the force. Aura versus void. Light against shadows. Fire against frost. Their blades moved faster than sound, ringing like bells of war.
The soul shard behind them pulsed—responding to Severra's presence.
Jean felt her divine power surge.
Visions poured into her mind.
—Alarienne kneeling before Vorokhal beneath a shattered moon—
—Severra weeping as her sister-Emissary turned against her—
—Martin Luther standing between gods and dragons, a titan of light—
Jean shouted and struck with all her might. The chamber cracked. Flames burst from her core—pure, searing, unstoppable.
Alarienne staggered back, her armor scorched. She touched her face and looked at the blood on her glove.
"You've inherited more than I thought," she said, panting.
"I carry Severra," Jean whispered. "But I'm not just her vessel. I'm me. And I won't become what you did."
Whitney lunged, forcing Alarienne back. Jean leapt for the shard, slashing through the final ward. Light erupted as she seized it—Severra's soul fragment now whole again within her.
The world shifted.
Jean dropped to her knees, overwhelmed by memory. Celestial fire poured through her veins.
And Severra spoke:
"My child… you are ready."
Alarienne screamed in fury. "You don't know what you've done!"
But Jean stood, eyes glowing with light. Luxclade burned brighter than ever.
"I've claimed what's mine," she said. "And now, I'm coming for all of you."
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