The crystalline figures emerged from the shadows.
First one, then another.
Each step was a soft crackle of ice against living wood. What looked like simple constructs now revealed their true horror.
Within each transparent prison was an elf.
Features twisted. Agony eternal.
The light filtered through the thick leaves and branches, refracting through their bodies and magnifying their suffering. At first, Freya saw only faint shapes, shadows caught at odd angles. Then her gaze sharpened.
The details emerged.
Horrific.
Clear.
A young warrior's face, mouth frozen in a silent scream. An elderly woman's hand, forever reaching for someone beyond her grasp.
A small form, curled into a final, desperate ball.
An elfling.
The Water Elder's voice cut through the horrified silence, smooth as glacial ice.
"Is this not beautiful?" he asked, spreading his arms wide. His crystalline wings cast prismatic patterns across the faces below.
"This is preservation in its purest form."
"Each one of them, forever serving the greater good of our clan."
His eyes gleamed with a fanatical light. "For centuries, our people have given all for the clan. I merely ensure that even death doesn't end that purpose." A sinister smile split his face, revealing teeth that seemed too sharp.
Too predatory.
His gaze fell on her. "Tell me, dear Freya," he sneered, "do you not feel their gratitude?"
"Each soul here, preserved in eternal service, sacrificing their lives for our clan's future. Is that not what we all live for?"
Fury radiated from Freya in palpable waves. Her jaw clenched, tendons standing out along her neck like taut ropes. The air around her hissed, rippling with heat. Runes on her staff pulsed with deadly intent as she leveled it at the Water Elder's heart.
The flames that had protected them sputtered and died, leaving scorched patterns on the wood. Steam hissed around Freya's feet as her rage clashed against the Elder's bitter winter.
"Lady Freya!"
The warning came too late.
She turned toward the voice. Watched in horror. A crystalline blade erupted from her companion's chest. Blood splattered across the living wood, steaming where it met the freezing surface.
The world slowed.
The preserved elf inside the construct moved with its vessel, a grotesque puppet master to its frozen shell. Her companion's killer, her withered arms still cradled a bundle that had long since turned to dust.
All around them, the horror unfolded. One elf's eyes had burst, frozen trails marking their path down crystalline cheeks. Another's limbs bent at impossible angles, bone visible through paper-thin skin.
"My Queen!"
The anguished cry came from one of Seraphina's warriors. He fell to his knees, his weapon clattering to the ground. "Forgive me!" His voice cracked with despair, tears freezing on his cheeks.
"I knew, through centuries of planning, I knew the risk. But this…" His words dissolved into a sob. "Even the little ones... how could they?"
The Water Elder's laughter rang out like breaking ice. The sound pierced straight to the bone.
Freya stood paralyzed. Her staff trembled.
These weren't just enemies to be defeated. They were victims to be saved.
Another crystalline figure stepped forward. Its occupant was a husk, strips of flesh clinging to ancient bone. She recoiled.
How could I destroy them?
They're our own. Twisted into monsters by the one meant to protect them.
Her hand tightened around her staff.
What mercy lies in freeing them, if it's even mercy at all?
A terrible question formed in her mind.
Was there even anything left to save?
The Water Elder's wings spread wider, casting the battlefield in sheets of refracted light. He was ready to demonstrate his power.
Then, a new sound cut through the frigid air.
A slow, deliberate rasp.
The sound sliced through the tension. Even the Water Elder's triumphant smile faltered for a heartbeat. Then it stretched wider.
More manic.
The noise echoed off the ancient trees, multiplying until it seemed a hundred blades were being drawn at once.
Footsteps followed.
Each one heavy, a sharp, angry beat.
The gathered warriors held their breath as Seraphina emerged from their ranks. The warmth that had comforted elflings moments before was gone. It was replaced by something ancient and terrible. The air around her bent and twisted.
She moved like death given form.
Her twin blades extended at her sides, wings of a predatory bird. They caught the fractured light from the crystalline horrors, her approach a dance of deadly shadows and piercing light. Each step held the fluid grace of a hunting cat. Her body was coiled with lethal promise.
The warriors shifted, fearing to disturb the very essence of vengeance.
"My precious children."
Seraphina's voice was not gentle. It rang across the battlefield, sharp enough to draw blood.
"The fault is mine alone," she declared, her voice cutting through the frozen silence.
"For too long, I placed this burden on you all."
Her voice dropped.
"A burden I've ignored too long, and one I now claim as my own, whatever the cost."
"No more."
Her gaze swept across the battlefield, across the living and the dead. "You will not suffer for my mistakes any longer." Her blades glowed, pushing back the shadows.
"I will shoulder every agony, every loss, every moment of despair that I should have carried from the beginning."
Her final step brought her between her people and the crystalline army.
A barrier. The living and the damned.
The temperature around her plummeted to match the Elder's cold. Two winter storms met in a deadly confluence.
"After all, what kind of mother allows her children to fight her battles?"
The Water Elder's eyes widened. His smile vanished, replaced by a deep frown.