They stepped beyond the kingdom gates, scanned the swallowing darkness, and turned left—cutting a path toward the distant hill where six figures waited like statues against the horizon.
When they reached the crest, everyone slowed to a halt, the air thickening with a cold, predatory weight. There she stood. Reia the Beast. Her long, black-and-white hair whipped in the wind, her dual-toned cloak rippling behind her like a tattered shroud. In her hand, a black fanged blade gleamed with a hungry, iridescent light.
"Hello, Eiden," she said, her voice a low, melodic chuckle that carried across the grass. "It has been a long time. A very long time."
Her daughters flanked her, a lethal semi-circle of nightmares. Tria and Niyra stood to her right, one in short-cropped black and the other with flowing white tresses; on her left stood Yiara with a spear held in a white-knuckled grip and Mira with a long black sword cascading down her back. Hira stood central, her hair a chaotic blend of both parents, dual blades resting easily in her palms. All five bore the sharp, elegant horns of the devil-kin; all five watched Eiden with eyes that promised ruin.
The sky had surrendered its orange glow, fading into a bruised purple as the night turned dangerous.
"Where is Lalira?" Eiden's voice was a flat, demanding iron.
Reia smirked, the expression sharp enough to cut. "Do not worry. She is on her way right now to demolish your little clan."
Eiden's expression didn't flicker. He looked almost bored, his presence as calm as a frozen lake. "I see... then your daughter will die a quick death."
Reia raised an eyebrow, a mocking laugh bubbling up. "And you are confident anyone in your clan can kill my daughter? You are a fool."
"I never said they would be the ones to handle her," Eiden replied. "Someone far more powerful than her will."
Reia's eyes sharpened. For a fleeting second, her heartbeat quickened—a cold spike of maternal fear striking deep in her chest at the thought of an unknown predator. She forced a smile. "Well... let us begin then."
Black aura began to bleed from their blades, staining the air like ink in water.
"I like this one with the dual blades," Morvath said, unsheathing his own twin steel.
"Be careful, Hira," Reia warned, her gaze never leaving Eiden. "He is the fourth most powerful of the Sages. Do not let his blades touch you; they are laced with a poison that knows no cure."
"Of course, Mother," Hira whispered.
"And Tcil..." Reia's gaze drifted to the King. "Why did you come?"
"I wouldn't let them fight an uneven battle," Tcil said, his hand steady on his hilt.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush the grass beneath them. The world seemed to hold its breath.
"If Morvath is the fourth, who is the third?" Selyndra asked, shifting her weight.
"That would be Vaelus," Reia answered for them. "Speaking of which... where is he?"
"None of your business," Morvath snapped.
Reia ignored him, focusing on the man in front of her. "Eiden, you still haven't told me who is in that village waiting for my daughter."
"It doesn't matter," Eiden said. "What matters is that this ends now."
"You are so certain you will win?"
"I am certain," Eiden replied, his voice a death sentence. "The only ones dying tonight are you and your daughters."
Reia smirked. "Hira, you take Morvath."
Eiden stepped forward, his finger tracing a line through the air as he assigned the slaughter. "Seraphaine, you take Mira. Iris, you take Niyra. Selyndra, you take Yiara. Tcil, you take Tria."
The daughters tightened their grips. The air hummed with lethal intent.
"Separate," Eiden commanded. "Fight away from this hill. Only Reia stays with me."
Reia chuckled. "Trying to isolate me, Eiden?"
"No," he said, his voice dropping to a terrifying chill. "I am preventing your daughters from dying in your crossfire."
The ground cracked. In a blur of motion and steel, the pairs vanished in different directions, heading toward their own isolated battlegrounds. Within seconds, only Eiden and Reia remained, standing face to face as the wind began to howl between them.