Thea didn’t like asking too many questions—it made her sound ignorant and shallow—but there really was no helping it. These magic-side people were all so elusive. The Swamp Thing had once ntioned “Madam Xanadu,” but never where the woman actually lived. And Thea couldn’t exactly post a “Have You Seen This Sorceress?” ad in the paper.
Her subordinates were no use either. She couldn’t just order the Court of Owls to send out a few Talons to look for her. They’d get the command and just stare blankly—no photo, no address, not even a real na. Finding her would take a miracle.
“Hold on tight, girl!” Takhisis’s voice cut through her thoughts as the dragon began to climb higher.
Thea gripped one of the dragon’s necks with both arms, pressing herself flat against the scales. She didn’t dare craft a saddle—riding a dragon queen was risky enough.
Still, being a woman ca with certain privileges. If a man had dared to say he wanted to “ride” the Dragon Queen, he’d have lasted one minute in her stomach, three minutes to digest, and five minutes later he’d be fertilizer.
The wings beat furiously—whump, whump—until the massive creature ca to a halt at the peak of its ascent.
“Ready?” one of the dragon heads turned back to ask.
“Ready, Your Highness.” Thea’s eyes were locked on Horus’s empty left socket—that would be the only weak spot left in his body.
Takhisis twisted sharply midair, a breathtaking maneuver that blended power and grace. Her wings swept backward, accelerating their descent.
Thea held the lance tight, focusing all her strength to keep it steady. She didn’t even think about casting any buffs—the dragon’s skin was naturally resistant to magic, and Takhisis herself was a master sorceress. Thea’s little self-taught spells would be an insult.
Down below, Horus had already noticed their dive. Having absorbed too much underworld energy, he could no longer transform into an eagle. Instead, he stood tall on the earth, gathering what remained of his divine focus for one final defense.
Thea and the Dragon Queen beca a streak of white light. The acceleration was so extre that their trajectory left behind a vapor trail, the sonic boom echoing like thunder as they hurtled downward, a mountain of force descending upon Horus.
Five thousand ters.
Four thousand.
The closer they fell, the faster Thea’s heart pounded. This is it. I’m slaying a god! Even if he’d demoted himself to a demigod, it still counted. Throughout history, how many mortals could claim such a feat?
She couldn’t help thinking bitterly: Where’s the Waverider when I need an audience? No one’s even going to see this heroic mont!
Below, Horus kept his strategy simple—sidestep the frontal charge, strike them as they passed.
Thea and Takhisis’s plan was even simpler: ignore everything, pour everything they had into a single, killing blow.
It was a contest of sight, speed, and strength—with maybe a touch of deception.
Eight hundred ters.
Five hundred.
“Raise the lance!” Takhisis roared.
Thea lifted the massive weapon, pouring every ounce of will, spirit, and mana into the strike. It had to be perfect.
Bathed in dawn’s first light, woman and dragon streaked through the clouds—challenging a god, charging straight into the sun.
At a distance of barely twenty ters, they could see each other’s faces. Thea’s was bright, determined, full of vitality. Horus’s was weary, old, tinged with both sorrow and relief.
Montum’s ours! Thea’s pulse surged. She thrust the lance forward, aiming straight for his head.
To Horus, her movent seed fast—but not impossibly so. Had he still been a true god, he would have caught the weapon bare-handed. But now, reduced as he was, he dared not risk it.
He’d already spotted the danger. The lance’s tip glowed with a strange, spiraling energy. It was white as jade, etched with whorls that radiated divine pressure. Even in his pri, he might not have walked away unscathed.
So, the mont the weapon touched his golden barrier, Horus darted aside.
“Dodged it!” he exulted.
He didn’t notice Thea’s fierce grin. Took the bait!
They had planned this long before takeoff. Horus’s power had fallen, yes—but his battle instincts and insight remained sharp. A straightforward attack like that would never fool him. Anyone could see they were wielding sothing designed to pierce divine defenses.
So, they gave him sothing to dodge.
Fortunately, both Thea and the Dragon Queen were won—and natural-born actresses. Thea’s skill ca from her mother, Moira, and Takhisis, though ancient, had plenty of practice playing her prey.
Their coordination was flawless. Together, they deceived a forr god.
The “lance” Horus saw so clearly was nothing more than a magical decoy—an illusion crafted by Takhisis herself, reinforced with a thread of Thea’s ti magic to give it authenticity. Ti magic—sothing even gods hesitated to touch. Horus’s fear had been justified.
When he turned his head to dodge the illusion, Thea released her grip, shrank back to normal size, and drew the real weapon—a slender, two-ter spear—hidden behind her the entire ti.
Using the montum of their dive, she leapt off the dragon’s back, body spinning through the air, and plunged downward like a falling star.
Horus’s one remaining eye widened in shock as Thea gathered every ounce of strength she had and drove the silver-white lance straight into his left socket.
At first, the point t resistance—but the spiraling horn’s energy tore through it, draining the golden shield like air from a punctured balloon. Divine energy peeled away, reverting to raw mana crystals that evaporated into the wind.
“Aaah—!” Horus’s scream split the sky.
The more she pressed, the less resistance she felt. Thea roared, pushing harder, until the lance burst through the last layer of protection and pierced his skull clean through.
For a heartbeat, ti seed to stop. Every eye—human, divine, and draconic—watched her.
Then ca a dull, wet sound. Thunk.
Thea exhaled. She had done it. She had slain a being who once held godhood in his hands. It could never be repeated, but it was enough. She had earned the right to the title Godslayer.
Horus fell backward, a colossal figure collapsing like a mountain. The silver lance jutted through his head, and with a thunderous crash, the god of the sky struck the earth.
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