Aeryn let out a raw, heart-shattering cry of pure agony.
"RISSA!"
Aeryn's hands trembled as she forced them up, her fingers clawing at the empty air to draw upon the moisture in the forest. Her chest heaved, her fever-shattered body screaming in protest.
Maeron watched her, his expression turning into one of mock pity. He slowly shook his head, raising his free hand slightly to dismiss her efforts.
"Do not try it, my sweet child," Maeron whispered, his voice sliding like grease into her mind. "You have no energy left, my love. Elaira will not like it when she knows I have worked you this much... she prefers her targets whole."
He paused, tilting his head slightly as if the words had glitched in his throat. A chilling, hollow chuckle rattled from his chest.
"No, no, no..." Maeron corrected himself, a terrible, mock-pitying smile returning to his pale lips. "Cold bones of Elaira... oh, ho, ho, no, cold ashes I must say. Pity my memory... it is not like how it used to be. After all, it has been too long for me to remember how I killed her."
The words struck Aeryn like a lightning bolt. The casual confession—the monstrous realization that this creature, wearing her father's face, had murdered her mother and could barely even keep the memory straight—ignited a wild, blinding fire in her soul. The agonizing grief and betrayal completely overrode her exhaustion.
"You lie!" Aeryn screamed, a raw, animal sob ripping from her throat. "Don't you dare say her name! You are not my father! You are a monster!"
With a desperate, roaring focus, Aeryn threw her hands forward.
Using every single drop of her remaining water and blood-bending power, she slammed her energy against the invisible chokehold. She pulled and tore at the unseen magic, her teeth grinding as a fresh stream of blood spilled from her nose. With a sharp, screaming effort, she shattered the dark grip.
Rissa crashed heavily back to the dirt, coughing violently and drawing in desperate, rattling breaths of air.
The old Captain stepped forward, his knees trembling under the weight of his grandson, but his one good eye was blazing with a mixture of shock and betrayal.
"Who are you?!" the Captain roared, drawing his greatsword with his free hand. "The King I served was an honorable man! He would never strangle a child! You... you cannot be Maeron!"
The dark lord looked at the Captain, his expression completely flat and emotionless. He let out a low, chilling chuckle that echoed in their bones.
"My dear comrade," Maeron said smoothly, his voice carrying that terrible, well-like rattle. "My dear captain who took an oath over my very hand to do everything—everything—I commanded. I truly did not know you lived to this day. I suppose I have more work to deal with after this. But do not worry, my old friend. I will give you one more chance to show your loyalty... with blood, of course. I must be clear this time. Last time you did not understand, and here I thought you were intelligent."
The old knight's eye widened, his breath catching as a horrifying thought bloomed in his mind. The pieces of a decades-old puzzle suddenly locked together. The suicide mission. The butchery of his legion. The years of carrying the crushing weight of survivor's guilt.
"The eastern border..." the Captain whispered, his voice shaking with a terrifying, sudden understanding. "The deployment. It wasn't a tactical oversight. It wasn't a betrayal by the enemy. You... you sent us there to die."
Maeron's mock-pitying smile returned, thin and razor-sharp.
"Of course I did," the dark lord replied casually, as if speaking of weather. "But you proved disloyal. Even when I ordered you to die for me, you still insisted on surviving. What a pity. I truly thought you were loyal."
The realization hit the Captain like a physical blow. His loyalty had not been met with honor; it had been met with a calculated cleanup. His entire life of service was a lie.
"You monster..." the Captain whispered.
"Monster? No. Just clean housekeeping," the man replied. He waved his hand casually. "But enough of the past. Let us see if your little friends can help you now."
From the dark woods behind him, several black-clad soldiers emerged. They were dragging three limp, unconscious bodies across the dirt, throwing them carelessly at the man's feet.
It was Sakina, Zephyr, and Mavis. All three of them were heavily bound in iron chains, their faces pale, their clothes torn and covered in soot. They were alive, but barely, their energy completely drained by the same dark magic that hung in the air.
"You have a habit of collecting broken toys, Aeryn," her father said, stepping over Zephyr's limp hand. "But they are useless now. If you want them to live, you will drop your hands."
Aeryn stood shivering, her hands raised, but she was completely spent. The strain of saving Rissa had emptied her. She couldn't spark a single drop of power.
"Do not worry, my love," the man murmured, walking slowly toward them, his eyes wide with a sickening, mock-tender pity. "Your pain, your suffering... I truly cannot bear to see you in any more pain. Do not worry. I will set you free soon."
Suddenly, the sound of galloping hooves shattered the tense silence.
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