The envoy's cruel smile widened as he strode toward Lily's home, his boots crunching against the rubble. Behind him, the mage and the soldiers followed in lockstep, their shadow falling heavy over the ruined house.
The mage raised his scepter once more. The crystal pulsed, glowing brighter, and then—
KRSHHHHH!
A blade of blue energy sliced clean across the wooden beams. The upper half of the home tore apart in an instant, the roof crashing down as splinters and tiles erupted into the air. Dust smothered the square as the second story collapsed into ruin.
Screams filled the village. Mothers pulled their children close. Men raised their arms to shield their faces as the air choked with debris.
When the dust settled, all eyes fixed on the wreckage.
There, kneeling amidst broken beams and shattered clay, was Lily's mother. She held her daughter tightly in her arms, shielding her with her own body. Her back hunched protectively, her face buried in Lily's hair as tears streaked her dirt-stained cheeks.
Lily clung to her desperately, small fingers gripping her mother's dress. Her sobs echoed through the silence.
The envoy chuckled softly, covering his mouth with his jeweled handkerchief as if he were watching a performance.
Envoy: Ah… what a touching little scene.
He took another step forward.
Lily's mother raised her head, her tear-filled eyes meeting his. For an instant, the world seemed to vanish around her, replaced by memory.
She was younger, her arms trembling as she clutched a newborn Lily, barely three months old, wailing helplessly against her chest. Around her, villagers screamed, begging, their voices cracking in desperation.
Mother (past): Stop! Please, don't take him!
Her husband, Geralt, stood in the square, a warrior's stance in his shoulders despite the fear in his eyes. He turned to the villagers, ordering them to stand back, to stay safe.
But the soldiers of steel had already moved, cold and silent, shackles in their hands.
And stepping forward among them… was this same envoy. His silks pristine, his smile cruel.
They dragged Geralt away, her cries drowned by her baby's wails.
Mother (past): No! Geralt!
Her scream cut through the air, but no one came to help.
The memory dissolved, and she gasped, back in the present, tears spilling anew.
Mother (present): N-no… not you…
The envoy's grin widened, savoring her recognition.
Envoy: So you do remember. How quaint. And my, how much she looks like her father. That same fire… that same potential.
His gaze slid toward Lily, trembling in her mother's arms.
Envoy: Don't worry. We'll make certain she's… used properly.
He stepped back, raising his hand.
Envoy: Arlock. Retrieve her.
The mage obeyed without hesitation. His scepter pulsed, and from its crystal, water poured not dripping, but slithering, coiling like a serpent. The liquid snake shot forward, wrapping itself around Lily before she could scream.
Lily: M-Mama!
The water tightened, lifting her into the air. Her small body thrashed, her fists pounding desperately against the fluid cage. In seconds, she was sealed in a shimmering sphere, suspended above the rubble. Her voice was muffled, her cries broken.
Mother: No! Let her go!
She lunged forward, clawing at the orb. But the water lashed outward like a whip, striking her across the chest with a brutal crack. She fell to the ground, gasping in pain, her hand reaching hopelessly toward her child.
The mage's voice was calm, even, but it rumbled across the square like thunder.
Arlock: Prison Water. Nothing can break it from outside, or inside. Stop resisting, child. Your effort is in vain.
The villagers trembled, horror in their eyes as Lily thrashed inside the cage.
The envoy giggled, his grin stretching unnaturally wide.
Envoy: Ah, don't struggle, little one. I promise… [he licked his lips] …I'll take good care of you.
Then something changed.
Arlock's eyes flicked to the ground. A droplet of water rose against gravity, hovering in the air. Another followed. Then another. Tiny beads quivered unnaturally, drifting upward around his boots.
The prison around Lily gave the faintest shiver.
Arlock's brow furrowed.
Arlock:[muttering] …What… is this?
The envoy stopped mid-step, turning with irritation.
Envoy: What now, Arlock? Have you grown senile, gawking at puddles? If you waste my time again, I'll have the King know of your incompetence.
The mage's hood tilted as his gaze lingered on the trembling sphere. His lips tightened, but he forced a nod.
Arlock: …Nothing, messire. I must have… imagined it.
The envoy scoffed, waving a jeweled hand dismissively.
Envoy: Dreams are for beggars. Those without money, without power. You'd do well to remember that.
He turned away with a chuckle.
Arlock moved to follow but froze.
A sudden storm of wind ripped past him, sharp and violent like a blade tearing the air. His cloak snapped back, his hood nearly torn away as the air cracked with force.
Then—
SHHHHHHH-CRAAAAASH!
The watery sphere exploded, bursting into a thousand droplets that rained across the square. Villagers gasped as steam hissed on the ground where they struck, the sound like glass shattering.
Arlock's eyes went wide.
Where the prison had been, a man now stood.
White hair wild, scarf drifting in the dust. One arm cradled Lily tightly against his chest, shielding her trembling body. His other hand was clenched into a fist so tight the veins bulged against his skin, his knuckles blazing white with fury.
His sky-blue eyes gleamed with fire, cold, sharp, and unyielding.
Sight Albar.
The villagers' breath caught, silence falling heavy over the square.
Arlock's composure cracked. His lips parted, voice trembling with disbelief.
Arlock: …My… my Prison of Water… shattered…?
Sight lifted his head slowly, his gaze locked on the envoy and his soldiers. His voice was low, steady, each word laced with rage.
Sight: Touch her again… and I'll kill you.