The Leviathan of the Void roared—a sound of rushing rapids and screaming ghosts. The massive black-water dragon coiled around the ceiling of the hall, its eyes glowing with the same milky-white light as Clara’s.
"Alaric! The wings! Now!" Seraphina commanded.
The Great Distraction
Alaric knew this was their only window. He didn't fire at Clara. Instead, he channeled every ounce of his royal blood into a localized storm. "Ignis-Volt: Heaven’s Spear!" A massive bolt of red-and-white energy tore through the air, striking the water-dragon’s head.
Beside him, Jace slammed his shield into the ground, creating a shockwave to disperse the rising floodwaters, while Kaelen threw a volley of flash-bang daggers to blind the "sight" of the Void.
The Leviathan thrashed, its dark mass rippling. Clara’s focus wavered for a fraction of a second as she moved to stabilize her creation.
The Suicidal Dash
"Now!" Seraphina lunged.
She didn't run; she became a blur of silver. "Vanguard Art: God-Speed Breach!" Clara snapped her head toward the movement. Her "happy" smile didn't fade, but her hands moved with lethal intent. "Stay... away... from him!" she shrieked.
A barrage of ice daggers erupted from the floor, skewering the air where Seraphina had been a heartbeat before. One blade caught Seraphina in the thigh, another grazed her cheek, but the Knight didn't slow down. She plowed through a wall of black water, the pressure cracking her pauldrons and bruising her ribs.
She was a juggernaut of grief and fury.
The Threshold of the Throne
Seraphina cleared the stairs in a single, gravity-defying leap. She landed on the dais, her boots slamming into the bone-floor just feet away from Marek.
Clara screamed—a sound of pure, conditioned agony. She dropped her staff and sprinted toward the throne, her silk robes tearing, her gold chains snapping against the stone. She wasn't using magic anymore; she was trying to throw her own body in front of Seraphina’s blade.
"Master! No!" Clara cried out, her voice breaking with the false "love" Marek had burned into her soul.
Marek stood up, his sightless face contorted. He felt the heat of Seraphina’s aura. "Kill her, you fool! Kill the Knight!" he commanded, his voice cracking with sudden, sharp terror.
The Choice
Seraphina reached the throne. She stood between the cowering, blind monster and the brainwashed girl who was lunging to protect him.
For a split second, Clara’s hand reached out, her fingers clawing at Seraphina’s armor, trying to pull her back. Seraphina looked down and saw the tears streaming from Clara’s wide, white eyes—even under hypnosis, some part of her was suffering.
Seraphina didn't look at Clara. She looked at Marek.
"You told her that love is a chain," Seraphina said, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut through the roar of the water-dragon. "I'm going to show you that love is a blade."
She ignored Clara’s frantic attempts to stop her. She raised her claymore high, the silver steel reflecting the sickly green light of the Hall.
"Alaric! Hold her!" Seraphina yelled.
Alaric tackled Clara from behind, pinning her to the ground. Clara fought him with the strength of a possessed woman, scratching and biting, her white eyes fixed on Marek. "Let me go! He needs me! I love him! I love him!"
"It’s not real, Clara!" Alaric sobbed, holding her down with all his might. "Look at us! It’s not real!"
Seraphina turned back to Marek. The "Master" reached out, his fingers fumbling in the air, trying to find the threads of the Green Void to save himself. But the Void was a coward's power, and it was failing him now.
"The only way out," Seraphina growled, "is through your heart."
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