The girls were consumed by a storm of confusion. Syl's breath caught in her throat as she stared at Vielwalker. His gaze was locked on Lily, unwavering and sharp, as though he were peeling away every layer of her being. Why… why Lily? Syl's thoughts spun, the name echoing in her mind like a faint, disbelieving whisper.
Lily felt it too. A strange pull, both frightening and familiar, tightened around her chest. She did not understand it, yet something deep within her stirred at the sight of him, as though a part of her remembered what the rest of her could not.
"I am sorry," Vielwalker said at last, his voice flowing with a smooth, unsettling calm. "For the way Veyron treated you. Tell me… was he gentle with you?"
Lily blinked, struggling to grasp his words. Her lips parted as fragments of memory and confusion tangled in her mind. "Do I… know you?" she asked softly, her tone surprisingly steady despite the unease that knotted her stomach.
A low chuckle slipped from him, dry and hollow, like leaves stirring in a forgotten crypt. "Yes. You do. But it has been a very long time since our paths crossed."
Syl's hand tightened into a fist, her outrage breaking through the haze. "If you know her, then why allow her to be here?" she demanded, her voice raw with disbelief. "What is this? What are you planning?"
Vielwalker's eyes drifted to her, the faintest smile curving his lips. "What happens here is not my will. I am only the hand that guides, carrying out the will of my master."
"Your master?" Lily asked, her brows furrowing as her heart thudded harder. "Who… is he?"
For a moment, Vielwalker's expression shifted, his gaze stretching past the grim stone walls, past the flickering torchlight, into some unseen horizon. His words were low, heavy with meaning. "He is one who will do anything to take what he desires. A selfish being. A lonely being. And most of all… a fallen angel, tested to see if he is worthy of it all."
Syl's mouth opened to protest, but Vielwalker's focus snapped back to Lily, silencing her instantly.
"Eris…" he said, his tone chillingly intimate. "How is Raphael? Have you heard from him since?"
The name struck Lily like a lightning bolt. Her eyes widened, confusion blooming deeper. "You… you know my big brother too?"
Vielwalker chuckled again, though there was no warmth in it. "Why would I not? Raphael and I go back far. He was always the restless one… always rushing to shield you, no matter the cost."
Lily's mind reeled, memories of her big brother flooding in, her chest aching with the sudden weight of them. Her voice trembled as she looked at Vielwalker. "If you know him… then can you help us? Please. Help us escape this."
His expression did not waver. "I cannot." The words were cold, final. He shifted his gaze briefly toward Kibo, a flicker so swift it might have been imagined. "But I can tell you this… be careful."
Syl caught that fleeting look, her brow tightening. Why did he look at Kibo? What does he see in him?
"Why?" Lily pressed, desperation breaking through her calm. "The group you serve, they are going to sacrifice the elves! They are going to sacrifice Isilwen!"
Vielwalker tilted his head, his voice disturbingly serene, as though the horrors he spoke of were nothing more than passing thoughts. "And why should they not be sacrificed, when their blood is the price to summon my master?"
"That is vile!" Syl shouted, her rage shaking her voice. "That is monstrous!"
"Everything is monstrous," Vielwalker replied, his words flowing like a placid river, steady and unyielding. "Even the very earth you walk upon is steeped in cruelty. But where there is evil, there is also good. The two cannot exist apart. That is the truth of this world. And it is for that balance that my master must be summoned."
"And if he is summoned," Lily asked, her voice trembling yet steady with determination, "what will happen?"
Vielwalker's eyes gleamed faintly. "That is for him to decide," he said, his tone calm but heavy with unspoken dread. "Perhaps he will rampage across the world and conquer it… or perhaps something far worse."
Syl drew in a sharp breath, ready to lash out, but Vielwalker lifted a single hand. The motion silenced her, an oppressive weight behind the gesture. "Enough of the questions… Eris, it is always good to see you."
"Why do you keep calling her Eris?" Syl demanded, anger and confusion sharpening her voice.
Vielwalker tilted his head, but before he could answer, Lily's voice broke through the silence. She spoke slowly, softly, but with a certainty that left no room for denial. "Because… it is my name."
Syl turned to her in shock, her jaw slack. Lily… what are you saying?
A small, knowing smile curved across Vielwalker's lips. "Ah. So Raphael must have told you… how he met you."
Lily nodded faintly, her eyes distant. "Yes. My big brother told me everything."
"Good for him," Vielwalker said, the chill in his tone almost mocking, though not without a twisted admiration. "Secrets kept to protect a loved one are not always the right choice. Sometimes they become chains. And tell me, Eris… what was your reaction to hearing the truth of Raphael's burden?"
Lily closed her eyes briefly, drawing a trembling breath. When she spoke, her words were calm but filled with quiet strength. "Nothing. Because it was never his fault. He didn't kill my papa… he only carried the blame, even when he didn't need to."
"He does not have to," Vielwalker murmured, his voice a strange echo of comfort, though it chilled more than soothed. "Everything that has unfolded in his life and yours… has happened for a reason. Since your father… was once my master."
Lily's heart lurched. Her voice broke as she gasped, "You… you knew my father?"
"Yes," Vielwalker said, his expression unreadable. "I knew your father… and I know your mother as well."
Her thoughts spun wildly, struggling to grasp the truth buried in those words. Father… Mother… who were they truly? But before she could speak, Vielwalker raised his hand once more, silencing her.
"I will not tell you more," he said, his gaze lingering on her with unsettling calm. "All I will say is this… you carry your father's spirit… and your mother's eyes."
Syl's chest tightened at the sight of Lily's shock. Her anger burst forth in a sharp cry. "She deserves to know! You cannot just give her riddles and walk away!"
But before Vielwalker could reply, the world itself seemed to answer. A thunderous explosion shook the chamber, sending dust cascading from the ceiling. The ground quaked beneath their feet, and prisoners clung to their cages or chains in panic.
The air stilled, and Vielwalker's eyes closed slowly, savoring the tremor. When they opened again, a wide, terrible smile split across his face. "It seems," he said softly, almost with delight, "that we have guests."
At that instant, a telepathic transmission resonated in every mind, a clear voice cutting cleanly through the fear and the trembling silence. It was Eryndor.
Attention, everyone… I grieve for the chaos you are witnessing and the suffering you are enduring. But hear me now—this is not the time to surrender to panic. The knights closest to you are already moving into their roles, each one prepared to stand firm.
Hold fast. Trust in yourselves. Protect one another. Even in this darkness, you are not alone…
~~~~~~~~~~~
Meanwhile, in the foul-smelling darkness of the sewers, Morganna, Takashi, Astrid, and Angelo fought with grim determination. The cramped tunnels were slick with filth, every step treacherous, every breath laced with rot. Shadows clung to the damp stone, broken only by the flare of magic and the glint of steel.
Takashi moved like a phantom. His katana swept through the air with merciless precision, each strike a clean, efficient end. He spoke no words, his silence heavier than the clash of blades, his face carved into the mask of one who carried no hesitation.
Astrid was his opposite in rhythm, yet equal in ferocity. Her Moonbind Cord lashed out, wrapping around robed men with unerring accuracy. The sanctified light burned through flesh and cloth, each strike crisp, deliberate, a dance of swift cruelty against chaos.
Angelo fought with a raw, frantic resolve, his every swing fueled by sheer willpower. His blade lacked Takashi's refinement and Astrid's precision, yet his desperation gave him strength enough to parry and strike, even as sweat and fear poured from him. His every breath was ragged, but he did not falter.
Morganna was the heart of their defense, a towering presence of grace and wrath intertwined. Her hands glowed with emerald brilliance, conduits of mana that shaped the battlefield itself. A wave of unseen force crushed one enemy's ribs, while another was hurled screaming into the slime-coated wall. Vines erupted at her command, shields of living green and whips of sharpened thorns. Around her allies shimmered her Celestial Aegis, an unyielding veil of protection that held back death itself.
The Countess clung close, her mind racing with the weight of Eryndor's transmission. His voice still echoed inside her, a fragile beacon of hope. So absorbed was she that she never saw the shadow leaping from above.
"My lady!" Kaito's voice tore through the din as he threw himself forward, arm raised to shield her.
The Countess turned, startled, her breath catching—too late to react.
But Morganna had already moved. The sewer floor split open with a violent crack as luminous vines burst upward, spearing through the robed man mid-air. His scream died before it could form, his body hanging limp on the thorns. Green light shimmered, fading as his corpse crumpled to the stone.
The Countess's eyes widened, horror mingling with awe as she looked at Morganna. The Queen's face was unreadable, her focus unbroken. She was already moving again, her power flowing like an endless river, fighting and shielding, every breath a command of survival.
The transmission continued, Eryndor's voice cutting through the noise of battle, steady and warm.
…the knights have already been translated to where the safe house is. Please… do not surrender to despair. Hold fast to the light within you. The hope we carry must never be quenched. Protect your families… protect those beside you…
~~~~~~~~
Up above, the whole of Balmount Kingdom was a symphony of chaos. Shops lay in ruins, their timbers smoldering, windows shattered. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying with it the scent of fire and fear. Buildings crumbled, reduced to rubble, while the cries of the wounded mingled with the roar of battle. Yet amid the devastation, there was a fragile thread of humanity. Humans and beastkin clutched one another's hands, pulling the fallen to safety, refusing to abandon their neighbors.
…we ourselves are Balmount Kingdom. And if we fall, there will be no Balmount Kingdom left to protect. To those who have been taken…those captured to be sold into slavery by the Covenant… hold fast, for help is already on its way…
The voice of the transmission carried like a balm through the broken city. For a heartbeat, people stilled, listening as though the words themselves held back the darkness. Then it faded, leaving behind a heavy silence, pierced only by the clash of steel and the screams of battle.
Knights shouted commands with raw voices, their throats ragged from the effort. "This way! Hurry, keep moving!"
Their cries cut through the panic, a rope pulling people back from despair. Some citizens bolted in terror, stumbling blindly into danger, but many clung to the knights' words, obeying with trembling faith. For them, that faith was all that remained.
The fighting was merciless. Steel rang against steel, sparks flashing in the gloom. The robed men pressed forward with savage fury, their numbers unrelenting. For every knight who fell with a scream, a robed man collapsed beneath the weight of a comrade's blade. Yet the streets were painted with blood, innocents caught in the crossfire. Their final cries were swallowed by the din of war.
A hulking brute in dark robes surged forward, his mace lifted high. Before him, three beastkin and four humans huddled close, two children pressed into their mothers' arms. Their eyes were wide with terror, too paralyzed to flee. The mace began to fall.
It never struck. A sudden sheen of frost spread across the brute's body, locking him in a jagged shell of ice. His snarl froze on his lips before his massive frame splintered into a thousand shards.
A blur of motion slipped past the terrified families. Sora. Twin daggers of ice glimmered in her hands.
She moved like water, like wind—graceful, fluid, merciless. Each step was a dance, each strike a line of artistry. She slipped through the chaos with a Silent Frost Step, vanishing only to reappear behind her prey. A dagger kissed the flesh of a robed man's neck, and he fell wordless, his blood already crystallizing into frost.
With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a Frozen Bloom. The air exploded into shards of glistening ice, a spray of crystals that pierced through a cluster of enemies, freezing them mid-scream. She moved on before their bodies even shattered, her expression calm, almost serene. She was a specter of winter, a deadly echo of beauty amid ruin.
"Inside! Quickly!" Bram's voice thundered across the square. He stood in the entrance of his shop, a broad axe gripped in his hands. His massive frame filled the doorway, his eyes ablaze with determination.
"This way! Hurry, all of you!"
The rescued families stumbled toward him, clutching the children as though they were their last treasure. Knights formed a wall, swords flashing as they cut down robed men who lunged to stop them. The shop door opened into a wide space, the counter pulled aside to reveal a staircase that led into the safety below.
"Down there! Move, move!" Bram urged, waving people inside. Mothers whispered frantic thanks as they pushed their little ones down the steps. The air was thick with fear, yet hope stirred in their eyes as they vanished into the shadows of safety.
Then came the scream. A knight's cry of warning turned into a gurgling death-rattle.
The impossible unfolded before them. Several of the robed men twisted where they stood, their bodies swelling grotesquely, bones groaning as flesh hardened into slabs of black stone. Horns erupted from their skulls, curving like the crescent moon. Their faces stretched, reshaping into monstrous visages of bulls. The Minotaurs bellowed, a sound that shook the air, before charging with unstoppable force. Knights were crushed beneath their fists, flung aside like ragdolls, their armor breaking as easily as eggshells.
Bram's grip on his axe tightened, his knuckles white. His heart pounded with the urge to fight, to carve his fury into the monsters. But he stood rooted in the doorway, forcing himself still. No. If I fall, the entrance falls with me. I must guard them. I cannot leave this post.
Then Sora struck.
She leapt into the fray without hesitation, her blades flashing with a cold, perfect rhythm. Frozen Blooms erupted in a blizzard of shards, pelting the Minotaurs' stony hides. They roared in fury, stumbling beneath the relentless storm. With a bound as light as breath, Sora landed on the shoulders of one beast. Her dagger plunged into its skull, ice racing across its body in jagged lines. The Minotaur convulsed once before its entire form froze solid. A single strike of her heel shattered it into a storm of glittering fragments.
Another fell, and then another, each kill a dance of elegance and finality. Where knights faltered, she did not. Where hope flickered, she rekindled it with every frozen corpse that crumbled in her wake.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Back in the underground prison, the distant thunder of explosions still rolled through the stone, faint but undeniable. Dust drifted from the ceiling, a reminder that the world above was locked in chaos. Within the chamber, the air shifted; whispers began to rise among the prisoners. Some pressed trembling hands together, thanking the goddess for this small sign of deliverance. Others clung to the sound of Eryndor's voice, repeating his words as though they were a sacred vow.
There is still hope… there must be.
Syl sat in silence, her gaze unfocused. That voice… Advisor Eryndor's transmission… What is going on above? Was it truly reaching everyone, or only those strong enough to believe? Her heart wrestled between doubt and a fragile ember of faith.
"Well," Vielwalker said at last, his voice slipping through her thoughts like a blade of cold iron. "I will be off."
He turned with deliberate calm. Lily lifted her eyes toward him, her lips parting as though to speak, but no sound came. She seemed adrift, lost within the storm of her own thoughts. my father… my mother… It was too much, a tide she could not yet stand against.
Syl's eyes flicked between her sister and Vielwalker already nearing the door. She wanted to shout, to demand answers, but the weight in her chest held her still. Vielwalker's hand pressed against the steel door, and with a creak that echoed in every heart, he pulled it open.
For a fleeting instant he glanced back, his expression unreadable, a faint curve of something that might have been a smile—or a warning. Then he stepped out. The heavy door shut behind him, the clang resounding through the prison like a tolling bell.
Silence followed. Heavy, suffocating.
Syl's gaze dropped to Kibo, lying motionless on the ground. His chest rose and fell, shallow but steady. She crawled closer, her hands trembling as she brushed dust from his hair. Her lips moved, her voice too soft to be heard, carrying only the weight of her heart.
Please, Kibo… wake up.