The Queen's steps faltered.
I caught it—that split-second hesitation as her heel dragged across the broken ground. Her lips parted, just barely, and her fingers trembled as she raised her blade once more.
It wasn't like her.
She, who had always been ten steps ahead of every threat. She, who had stood tall through storms, betrayal, and death itself.
Now she stood before ... swaying.
Bleeding.
"Stay back," she said through clenched teeth, her voice steadier than her body. "He's not... soone you can fight."
My instincts scread to obey. Everything about the shadow-cloaked figure before us radiated finality—like the embodint of every nightmare I'd ever swallowed.
But it wasn't fear that paralyzed .
It was rage.
She had carried when I couldn't walk. Shielded when I couldn't breathe. Chosen when I didn't even choose myself.
And now she was standing between and death again—on legs that could barely hold her.
No.
Not again.
"If you fall," I whispered, stepping up beside her, "I'll never forgive myself."
The sky above us cracked like porcelain, split by the pressure of the entity that stood before us.
His cloak wasn't fabric—it was night given form. It billowed as if it breathed, threads of shadow dripping like oil, whispering forgotten nas.
His crown wasn't tal—it was a twisted ss of broken oaths and betrayal, hovering over him like a halo forged in hell.
He raised one hand slowly, and the air bent around it.
Ti stuttered.
Reality recoiled.
"Choose, Shadow Queen," he said, voice as calm as it was catastrophic. "Break your bond with the Heir... or watch the realm burn."
The Queen's knees buckled.
Blood stread from the corners of her mouth as she looked at —truly looked.
And for the first ti...
I saw her afraid.
Not of him.
But of what she might do.
To save .
To Be Continued...
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