Vera moved with predatory grace, snatching Adriana up by the throat, fingers curling tight into her windpipe. Adriana clawed at her, her black wyverian eyes wide, panic and heartbreak drowning in them as breath fled her lungs.
Ash moved, the choice no longer his to weigh. He sprinted forward, sword in hand, exhaling a low breath over the steel as flames roared to life along its length, molten and hungry for blood.
Vera turned at the sound of his approach, lips curving into a serpent’s smile as she released Adriana, the goddess crumpling to the ground. ‘And look who has come out to play,’ she purred.
Without granting him the mercy of a heartbeat, she hurled a sphere of searing green fire. Ash twisted aside, the heat licking at his cheek as the spell shattered against the earth behind him.
‘Here to rescue my mother, are you?’ Vera’s voice drippedwith venomous delight. ‘Tell me, did she ever bother to share with you who she truly is?’
Ash kept his distance, eyes never leaving her, his boots shifting lightly through the frost as he circled. She mirrored him, every movement deliberate, predatory, like a panther ready to strike.
‘Themis,’ Vera continued, purple eyes gleaming with cruel amusement as they slid towards Adriana’s limp form. ‘Themis, goddess of justice. Creator of the valkyrians. The righteous one who dared to keep the gods themselves in line, always crying for justice.’ Her lips twisted into something bitter. ‘And my father? The father of all gods, the most powerful of them all. Yet here they are, hiding like frightened mortals, abandoning their own children to rot.’
Ash’s grip tightened on the hilt of his blade, his golden eyes never once leaving her. He was patient, coiled like a spring.
‘If you kill me,’ Vera whispered, her grin widening, ‘all you’ll manage is to send me back to my realm… and snuff out the real Vera entirely.’
‘I know,’ Ash said, his voice low, steady.
‘And you don’t care?’ she pressed, eyes narrowing.
Ash gave no answer.
‘Fine then,’ Vera sneered, tilting her head in cruel amusement, her beauty twisting into something feral and wicked. ‘Let’s play.’
She lunged.
The impact was a storm. She struck with such violent force that they were both flung backwards, the world spinning before Ash slammed into the earth. Vera straddled him, her hands curling into claws as she brought them down like hammers. The ground beneath them cracked, stone splintering like brittle glass.
Ash gritted his teeth, muscles straining as he thrust his sword upward, the flaming steel a barrier between them. Vera only chuckled, her breath a whisper of ice. She blew upon the blade, and the sacred drakonian fire sputtered… then died, leaving cold steel trembling between them.
‘Are you frightened now, little prince?’ Vera hissed, her lips curling into a cruel smile as she gripped the sword’s edge, heedless of the way her own hands split and bled upon the steel. She forced the blade down, pressing its biting edge against Ash’s chest.
Ash strained against her weight, his own palms searing with pain as he gripped the blade to hold it back, skin tearing open beneath the pressure. Blood slicked the hilt and steel alike.
Then, without warning, Vera was hurled from him, her body crashing into the shattered remains of the wall. Ash lay still for a heartbeat, lungs dragging in ragged gasps, before he surged to his feet. He ignored the raw agony of his bleeding hands as he lifted his sword again, ready to strike, until he froze.
Standing behind him was Mal Blackburn.
Her amethyst eyes burnt with a dangerous light, her sword angled loosely at her side. And behind her… an army. Ash’s golden eyes widened as he realised what he was seeing. An army of souls, summoned from the very earth, spectral warriors clutching ghost-forged blades, their hollow eyes awaiting the command of their princess.
‘Do not dare touch my husband,’ Mal said, her voice a blade in itself.
Then she lunged, swift and merciless.
Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for love.
Tabitha Wysteria
No matter how many times Mal’s blade sang through the air, Vera slipped from its reach with a serpent’s grace, laughter spilling from her lips, a maddening, echoing sound that lodged itself deep within Mal’s skull. Still, she did not falter, did not dare to glance aside to check on Ash, though her heart ached to.
From the jagged breach in the wall, coils of viridian smoke began to writhe, and from them emerged witches and warlocks, striding forth like phantoms of war. Yet Mal paid them no heed. The dead she had summoned clashed against them, steel meeting sorcery in a storm of shadows and flame, but Mal’s unyielding and unrelenting gaze was fixed on only one figure.
Vera.
With a snarl, Mal raised her sword high and struck, the blade a flash of fury, before thrusting out her hand. Power surged, hurling the witch back, slamming her into the wall’s broken stone. And still Vera laughed.
Mal’s steps were deliberate, predatory,each one drawing her closer as the witch slumped against the wall, her pale hair a wild halo, face marred with blooming cuts and bruises. It was difficult, achingly so, not to see the real Vera in her features, the quiet maid who had once served at Mal’s side, who had worn a false smile and soft words like armour.
