The torchlight flickered along the edges of the makeshift trench, casting uncertain shadows across tear-streaked faces and dirt-smudged cheeks. The air still clung to the stench of blood, damp earth, and gunpowder. Emanuelle sobbed quietly in Maria's arms, while Anthony, his face smeared with soot and a shallow cut on his forehead, kept his gaze locked on the gap in the stone-and-dirt barricade Marduk had raised.
Elian dropped to his knees in front of them. His golden eyes met his mother's—and for a heartbeat, the world stood still.
"You're alive…" he whispered, voice broken. "You're alive."
Maria pulled him into a tight embrace. Emanuelle shrieked his name and flung herself into his arms. The fierce grip of those small arms around his neck seemed to restore something shattered inside his chest.
"I thought… I thought I'd never…" He tried to continue, but the words dissolved into sobs.
"We're here. We're together," Maria murmured, her own eyes shining with tears.
But Elian's gaze soon dimmed again. He pulled away slightly, as if his mother's words had cracked open a dam inside him.
"This is all my fault," he murmured. "Everything… they only came because of me. If I hadn't—if I hadn't gotten involved with magic… if I hadn't left you…"
His voice thinned to a whisper, soaked in pain.
"The house… Dad… all of this is happening because I exist."
A sharp sound shattered the silence.
Elian's head snapped to the side from the slap. Emanuelle gasped, startled. Anthony's eyes widened. Even Elise, standing nearby, froze for a moment.
Maria still had her hand raised, trembling. Her eyes filled with tears the moment she realized what she had done. She had never struck her children. Never. That had been the first—and would be the last.
But in her eyes now, stronger than guilt, was love.
She pulled Elian back into her arms, holding him tightly, as if afraid he might fall apart in her grasp.
"Don't you dare say that again, my son. Not ever." Her voice was soft, but firm. "This is not your fault. The blame lies with those who attack, who kill, who destroy."
Elian didn't move. His eyes burned—but not from the slap. From the truth he'd needed, even if it hurt. Slowly, his arms rose and wrapped around his mother again.
Behind them, Elise watched in silence—but it was not an empty silence. It was the silence of someone absorbing everything: the way Elian crumbled and was sewn back together in his mother's arms; the way Anthony tried to stand tall, despite the soot on his face; the way Maria held Emanuelle to her chest like her warmth alone could prove they were still alive.
Elise's heart, long hardened by battle, clenched at the sight. There was something sacred in it—the quiet strength of a family that refused to break, even when torn apart.
Nearby, Marduk remained silent. Kneeling, he breathed with effort, his hand pressing tightly to his side, where blood still seeped through his fingers. Yet his eyes stayed locked on the horizon, alert.
And then, as if fate refused to grant them more time, another explosion shook the earth—a magical thunder that made the ground tremble beneath their feet.
"Kreld," Elise muttered, the name falling like a verdict.
Marduk nodded, fists clenched.
"Gremory's still with him. Holding his own… but Kreld is cunning."
Elise turned to Elian, who still clung to his family.
"They're safe for now. But we have something left to finish."
Elian nodded. His eyes now burned with a different fire. Determination.
He pulled away from his mother, his heart pounding in his chest.
"I have to go after him!" he cried. "My father—he stayed behind! Marduk said they took him… he might be hurt, he might be—"
He was already on his feet, stumbling forward when Elise seized his shoulder.
"No. You're not going alone," she said firmly.
"Let me go! I have to save him! If I don't go now—" his voice cracked, "—what if I'm too late?!"
Maria rose with effort and stepped beside her son.
"Elian…" she said, her voice trembling but resolute. "Your father is strong. He's survived wars, loss… things you can't even imagine. You can't lose yourself now."
Emanuelle, her face streaked with tears, clung to his arm.
"Stay with us, please… just a little longer. Dad's coming back. He promised. You always said promises matter, remember?"
Elian's heart faltered.
Her words tangled with memories of another life—another sister, another promise left unfulfilled. The world spun for a moment, and he nearly drowned in guilt… but this time, he wasn't alone. He felt Emanuelle's fingers laced with his—small and stubborn, anchoring him to the now.
He lowered his head and nodded, trembling.
Marduk cleared his throat, trying to stay upright. The wound burned, but he pointed to the brush beside the trench.
"This way. There's a shelter… a covered clearing between the rocks. It's about a hundred meters from the house. I watched everything from there. It's safer. Farther from the fire."
With help from Maria and Anthony, the group followed the wounded mage, weaving through scorched underbrush and twisted trees. Branches snapped beneath their feet, and smoke still stung their lungs. The clearing was surrounded by thick shrubs and stone, just large enough for them to rest a while.
Elise moved quickly, scanning the area. Her eyes were locked on the red-streaked sky, where flashes of magic still flickered.
"Stay here," she said after checking the natural cover. "I'm going to help Gremory. Together, we'll end this quickly. And then…" —she looked straight at Elian— "…we'll find Arthur."
Elian bit his lip hard but said nothing. He only nodded, his golden eyes still clouded with pain.
Elise studied him for a heartbeat longer, as if trying to speak what time no longer allowed. Then she turned, striding away, the black-and-gold hem of her robe swirling like a living shadow flung back onto the battlefield.
The trail back to the house was choked with smoke. The air was thick, suffocating. The scorched ground reeked of bitter ruin. Splintered wood, glowing embers, broken branches. Each step echoed like a war drum.
Then she saw them: magical flares tearing across the sky above the ruins—shards of stone and ice, sparks of fire writhing like furious serpents. The battle raged on—and at its heart, the silhouette of Gremory clashed with the rogue mage Kreld, a man cloaked in dense shadow and unstable power.
Elise didn't hesitate.
She summoned the energy around her, the golden runes on her robe igniting like living embers, and charged into the fray.
The true battle… was just beginning.