Amidst the swirling chaos, I struggled to move, to think. The sheer magnitude of power being hurled across the battlefield was suffocating waves of raw energy clashing, sparks of mana igniting the air with each impact. The women I had met tonight, for better or worse, were fighting for their lives against my worst nightmare. My tormentor, the Black Queen. A deep part of me screamed to flee, to find shelter away from this madness, yet another part, quieter but resolute, whispered that I couldn't simply stand by. I had to help in whatever small way I could.

But reality weighed heavy on my shoulders. I was a man. My ability to drain mana, my one weapon in a world where men were little more than precious ornaments, required touch. And the ooze that writhing, malevolent black mass spreading like a tide across the battlefield was a mere extension, a medium.

As I weighed my chances, my thoughts racing for a solution, a shiver ran down my spine. A presence, familiar yet foreign, had slipped into my space unnoticed, a feat that should have been impossible in my heightened state of fear. Slowly, I turned, and my breath caught in my throat.

There she stood.

Maeriel.

I hadn't seen her in years. My rescuer, my captor, my self-proclaimed mother. Love and hate tangled in my chest at the sight of her. Amid the madness, the sounds of battle seemed to fade, the air growing unnervingly still. It was just the two of us in that moment, Maeriel and I standing in the eye of the storm she had created with her psychic influence, her presence bending reality itself around us.

Like all High Elves, Maeriel was a vision of divine beauty, an exquisite creation sculpted with purpose. The High Elves were the ultimate architects of their own perfection, vain, obsessive, and methodical in their pursuit of aesthetic supremacy. Their bioengineering had not only refined their abilities but also ensured that their appearance embodied an irresistible allure, especially to Kindred men, who were hard-wired to find them captivating.

Maeriel was an exemplar of that inhuman allure. She stood a head shorter than me, yet her presence loomed larger than life. Her figure was a masterwork of ethereal sensuality, an hourglass shape that no mortal could replicate. Her curves were impossibly lush, a body that blurred the line between delicate grace and indulgent excess. Her breasts, impossibly full yet perfectly firm, were nearly twice the size of her head, defying gravity with their tantalizing weight. Her waist tapered into a perfect hourglass, emphasizing wide hips and thick, flawless thighs that could drive lesser men to madness with a glance.

Her lips full, enigmatic, and painted with a natural hue that seemed to whisper promises of forbidden pleasure parted slightly, as if she knew the effect she had on me. The creamy perfection of her smooth, unblemished skin exuded an elegance that transcended mere beauty; it was an artistry only the High Elves could master.

And then there were the details that marked her as something otherworldly, something beyond mere mortal comprehension. Her long, delicately pointed ears twitched ever so slightly, an unconscious gesture that somehow made her seem all the more alluring. Her hands, with their signature three-fingered grace, hovered at her sides small, delicate things that seemed crafted for caresses and tender gestures, yet capable of wielding untold power.

But it was her eyes that captured me, held me in place. High Elves did not possess ordinary eyes; they were works of art in themselves. Her irises, a swirling ocean of sapphire and starlight, encased dual, interconnected pupils. The unnatural, hypnotic pattern that drew me in like a moth to flame. Looking into those eyes was like staring into infinity, and even now, years later, they still held that same intoxicating effect on me.

I hated how my body reacted, how my heart pounded in my chest despite the fear and anger that swirled within me. Maeriel had saved me once, taken me in when I was nothing but a piece of meat, but she had also bound me to her, shaped me, and molded me in ways I still couldn't fully comprehend.

Maeriel's voice was like silk wrapping around my senses, a deceptively gentle caress that made my skin crawl and my heart ache all at once. "I was only gone a short while, John," she murmured, her lips curling into that familiar, knowing smile the one she always wore when she babied me. "Didn't I tell you not to get into trouble while Mommy was off working?" Her tone was a mix of indulgence and quiet amusement, like a mother chiding a child who had wandered too far from home. "You are such a naughty boy," she purred, her fingers trailing lightly down my arm. "Forming a resonance and a nascent lifebond? Quite the overachiever, as always, my precious boy."

I swallowed hard, a knot tightening in my chest. The cocktail of emotions boiling beneath the surface threatened to spill over anger, fear, resentment, and something far more dangerous... longing. My fists clenched at my sides, my voice coming out steadier than I expected. "What are you doing here, Maeriel? If they see you... they'll try to kill you."

She sighed, as if I were being unreasonable, her otherworldly blue eyes brimming with something close to pity. "Oh, John," she said, shaking her head as though I were a child fretting over monsters under the bed. "I have an understanding with the Fate Touched. She won't strike me down without reason." Her lips twitched in a bemused smirk. "Besides, you didn't think I'd leave you alone with your Aunt, did you? She has no idea how to treat children properly."

She took another step forward, and I instinctively moved back, but she reached out, her slender fingers tracing down my arm. Even through my clothes, the contact sent an electric shiver racing through me, a stark reminder of just how deep her influence still ran in my veins, in my mind, in my soul.

I jerked away sharply, putting as much distance between us as I could manage. "I can't be seen with you," I said, the words coming out more defiant than I felt.

Maeriel let out a soft, knowing sigh, the way a mother might when her child was throwing a tantrum over bedtime. "Oh, John," she crooned, her tone dripping with amusement and affection. "It's far too late for that. You're already in danger, my darling boy, and what kind of mother would I be if I let my precious child get hurt?" She reached for me again, but this time I took another step back, shaking my head.

I wanted to scream at her, to push her away, to tell her she was wrong, but deep down, a sickening part of me knew that despite everything, she was right. She had always been there, lurking in the shadows of my life, watching, waiting. She was a force I could never truly escape.

The ground trembled beneath us as a distant explosion shattered the fragile moment between us. The sounds of battle raged on in the distance, and for the first time, something flickered in Maeriel's expression, an edge of seriousness that cut through her usual languid charm. "Time is short," she murmured, more to herself than to me. "We need to move."

I hesitated, torn between the instinct to run and the knowledge that, for all my resentment, she might be the only one who could turn the tide of this battle. Desperation clawed at my throat, and the words tumbled from my lips before I could stop them. "Can you help them?" My voice cracked, raw and pleading.

Maeriel blinked, a flicker of confusion passing over her perfect features. "Why would I do that, my sweet?" she asked, tilting her head like I had just suggested something absurd. "They don't matter, John. They're not real... not like you and me."

I swallowed back the lump rising in my throat. "Please," I begged, my voice hoarse. "The city is in danger. They need your help." I met her eyes, pleading with everything I had left in me.

She smiled softly, indulgently, as if humoring me. "What does a city matter compared to your life, John?" she asked, stepping closer again, her gaze searching mine, her tone rich with something that sent chills down my spine. "You are all that matters to me."

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head. "There are millions of people in New Londium, Maeriel," I said, my voice trembling. "I have to try."

My vision blurred with unshed tears, and before I could stop myself, I croaked out one last, desperate, "Please."

That word, that single plea, seemed to cut through whatever cold detachment she held. Maeriel's perfect lips parted, and something that looked suspiciously like guilt flickered across her expression. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and for the first time, I saw hesitation in her gaze.

"Oh, don't cry, my precious boy," she murmured, reaching up to gently brush a tear from my cheek with a feather-light touch. "Oh, how am I supposed to keep you safe when you look at me with those lovely eyes of yours?" She sighed, a slow, drawn-out sound of reluctant acceptance.

Then, with a gentle smile that somehow sent a wave of unease through me, she whispered, "Very well... but only because you asked so sweetly."

Relief flooded through me, but it was tempered with the knowledge that every time Maeriel helped, there was always a price. And sooner or later, I would have to pay it.

"John, please take a step back. I don't want to get blood on you," Maeriel's voice was calm, almost soothing, but I knew better. The calm before the storm.

I obeyed without question, stepping back as my stomach twisted in uneasy anticipation. I'd seen her biomancy in action before, and it was never a clean or pleasant sight. Her powers had an eerie beauty to them functional, efficient, but undeniably grotesque.

Without hesitation, Maeriel plunged her hand into her own side with a sickening squelch. The wet sound of flesh parting under her fingers made my gut churn, but she showed no sign of pain, only a serene focus. Her delicate features remained composed, almost bored, as she rooted around inside herself with a practiced ease that spoke of millenniums of mastery. A moment later, she withdrew her hand, crimson and slick, clutching several of her own ribs as if they were no more than disposable tools.

The freshly extracted bones hit the ground with a wet slap, twitching and writhing like living things. I watched, a morbid fascination overriding my sense of horror, as they began to pulse and shift, elongating and twisting with an organic fluidity that defied nature. Tendrils of flesh coiled around them, sinew stretching and binding the fragments together with alarming speed. Before my eyes, the discarded bones took form, flesh knitting over them, shaping into familiar curves, and within mere moments, there stood four perfect replicas of Maeriel.

They were naked, of course, each one an exact mirror of the original in form and beauty. The unsettling synchronization of their movements made my breath hitch. They blinked in unison, their otherworldly blue eyes locking onto me, and I couldn't stop the heat that crept up my neck at the sight of them standing there so unabashedly bare. My heart pounded, and I forced myself to look away, but Maeriel's amused chuckle told me she had noticed.

"Still so bashful, my sweet boy," her cloned murmured, shaking their asses at me as if inviting me to mount them. Her original form was watching me with a teasing glint in her eye while the clones remained eerily silent.

I swallowed thickly, trying to focus on the tactical implications of what she had just done rather than the surreal intimacy of the moment. "Is... is this really necessary?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain steady.

Maeriel's smile was indulgent, motherly, as if she were explaining something to a particularly naive child. "Of course, John. I do not take threats to you lightly. And besides...a mother can tease her child." she trailed off as she turned to her clones, who, in perfect synchronization, mimicked her next motion.

Without missing a beat, the four newly formed Maeriels plunged their hands into their own sides with the same casual brutality, replicating the act their progenitor had performed. The gruesome cycle repeated itself more ribs extracted, more flesh woven into existence. The numbers multiplied exponentially, and within less than a minute, I found myself surrounded by not four, but eighty-eight identical Maeriels.

The air grew thick with the scent of copper and something more arcane, something that hummed against my skin like static electricity. The clones stood at perfect attention, their gazes locked onto their original, awaiting her command with an unsettling, hive-like precision.

Maeriel turned back to me with a radiant, unnerving smile. "Now, I believe we are ready for battle," she said, her voice honeyed but firm. Her clones echoed her words in a whisper-like chorus, sending shivers down my spine.

I could only nod, feeling entirely out of my depth. Whatever I had expected from this night, it certainly wasn't an army of my self-proclaimed mother preparing to tear through the battlefield in my defense.

"Stay close, John," she cooed, taking a step toward me, her hand brushing lightly against my chest. "I would hate for you to wander off into danger. Let Mommy handle everything from here."

Her clones moved in sync, stepping aside like a well-rehearsed formation, making way for the battle ahead. All except the original who stayed by my side. I felt a pit in my stomach, whether from the grotesque display of power or the realization that, no matter how much I tried to escape Maeriel's influence, she was always, always one step ahead. I had learned that lesson the first time I tried to run away.

The sudden arrival of Maeriel's legion of clones onto the battlefield had an almost predictable effect: panic, confusion, and a desperate scramble to reassess friend from foe. The once organized ranks of nobles and Dragoons hesitated for only a moment before launching attacks at the identical high elf figures now spread across the field. The air crackled with bursts of magic, blades flashed, and mana bolts ricocheted off Maeriel's clones in a chaotic frenzy.

But she didn't fight back.

Instead, she stood there, unmoving, as the attacks landed. Projected blades bit into her flesh, spells burned her skin, but with every wound inflicted, she simply regenerated. The flesh reknitted itself in an instant, as though the damage had never occurred in the first place. The display was beyond belief, Kindred could heal with magic, of course, but not at this speed, not without consequences. Rapid regeneration usually meant cellular breakdown, the kind that led to a painful, grotesque death from runaway cancerous mutations. But Maeriel? She simply smiled, each strike doing nothing but reinforcing the futility of the assault against her.

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"Leave her be!" Adora's voice rang out across the battlefield, cutting through the chaos like a blade of divine authority. Her golden hair shimmered in the light of Excalibur as she commanded attention. "Tonight, she fights with us!"

The order echoed across the field, and the Dragoons and nobles reluctantly withdrew, shifting their focus back to the true threat, the monstrous, hulking form of the Black Queen, who loomed over us all like an unholy colossus.

Maeriel's specialty had always been biomancy, but millennia of existence had afforded her the opportunity to master far more than just the manipulation of flesh and bone. As if in response to Adora's command, her clones moved in eerie unison, each raising a hand, their voices weaving an incantation in perfect harmony. The battlefield trembled as a spectrum of magic erupted from their fingertips, each clone casting a spell of a different element fire, ice, wind, earth, lightning, and darkness, all converging into a single, devastating blast aimed at the Black Queen.

Simultaneously, Medarda inhaled deeply, her massive dragon form looming above the battlefield like a golden tempest. With a thunderous roar, she unleashed another searing torrent of dragonfire, the blaze turning the night into day, flames hotter than anything mortal flesh could endure.

Asah, still standing resolute after her earlier act of defiance, let out a deafening roar, her Nemean voice focusing into a concentrated sonic attack that rippled through the Queen's form, shattering pieces of her black ooze body into mist. Her lioness eyes burned with determination, and I could feel the vibrations deep within my bones.

Adora and Lotha charged forward side by side, their weapons carving through the air like celestial instruments of destruction. Excalibur shone with divine radiance, slicing through the corruption like a beacon of hope, while Lotha's axe cleaved through the darkness with raw, brutal force. Each swing sent arcs of destructive energy crashing into the monstrous form before them.

Taimi, perched high atop her mechanized battle suit, shouted commands to her golems, her cannons firing relentlessly, sending bursts of arcane energy that slammed into the Black Queen, driving her back further with every impact.

Kori and Rheala, the twin Aspects of Life and Death, stood together, hands intertwined, their opposing forces blending into a harmonious fusion of existence and decay. A brilliant surge of golden and violet light surged forth from them, washing over the battlefield and sapping the strength from the Black Queen's forces while bolstering our own.

The combined assault was relentless, unyielding, and, at long last, it began to take its toll. The monstrous form of the Black Queen, once so towering and unassailable, began to waver. The inky black ooze that composed her grotesque body started to slough away in thick, viscous globs, dissipating into the air like smoke.

"You bitch," the Black Queen shrieked, her once-commanding voice laced with desperation and frustration. "You never let me have my fun!"

Her once haughty demeanor crumbled into that of a petulant child, her focus narrowing to a single target, Maeriel. Ignoring the assaults of the others, she lunged toward the legion of high elf clones with a crazed fervor, tearing through them with maddened glee. Each clone she destroyed splattered into puddles of shimmering ichor, but even as they fell, the others pressed on, continuing their assault, chipping away at the Black Queen's dwindling strength.

Maeriel's tactic was clear drain the Queen's resources by forcing her to waste her attacks on bodies that could easily be replaced. But I could see the toll it was taking. The clones' regeneration, once instantaneous, began to slow. Where once they had bounced back effortlessly, now they staggered, faltered.

And then the clones stopped regenerating altogether.

Maeriel, the original, stood beside me, her breathing ragged. She swayed slightly before dropping to one knee, her once-flawless complexion marred with the faintest traces of exhaustion. Sweat dripped down her brow, and for the first time, I saw vulnerability in her usually impenetrable gaze.

I caught her before she could collapse completely, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Maeriel!" I gasped, my heart racing in concern.

She looked up at me, a weak, but still smug smile playing on her lips. "Mommy spent a little more mana than she planned," she murmured breathlessly, her voice holding that same teasing lilt despite her drained state.

I swallowed hard, struggling to steady my voice. "You need to rest. You're pushing yourself too hard."

She chuckled softly, leaning into me for a moment before whispering, "Oh, my precious boy... don't worry about me. This is what mothers do, after all. Protect their children." Her blue eyes, even tired, still shimmered with that unsettling maternal devotion that had always sent a shiver down my spine.

The Black Queen's malevolent gaze fixed upon us. Her pitch-black eyes, void of all light and life, locked onto Maeriel and me with a chilling intensity that sent a primal fear coursing through my veins. The remnants of her monstrous form, now whittled down to something almost human in size, rippled and reformed with a grotesque fluidity. Her lips curled into a twisted smile, revealing rows of blackened, needle-sharp teeth.

"Ah... there you are, my lost little stud," she purred, her voice a sickly sweet whisper carried on the wind. Without warning, she surged forward with terrifying speed, a blur of inky darkness, her form twisting and contorting unnaturally as she closed the distance between us in mere seconds.

My heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, and I instinctively tightened my grip on Maeriel, who was still weak from expending so much mana. She stirred against me, her breath ragged, but her sharp eyes flicked upward, narrowing at the encroaching terror.

"John, move!" she rasped, forcing herself to her feet despite the tremble in her legs.

But there was no time.

The Black Queen's form lunged, tendrils of shadow spiraling outward like writhing serpents, reaching for us with a hunger that promised only pain and oblivion. The air around us grew thick and suffocating, as if the very essence of reality recoiled from her presence. The battlefield seemed to shrink, the sounds of combat dimming under the sheer weight of her dark will pressing down upon us.

Maeriel, despite her weakened state, stood tall beside me, her three-fingered hand pressing against my chest, pushing me behind her protectively. "Stay close, my precious boy," she murmured, and before I could protest, she raised her other hand and summoned a barrier of shimmering blue mana between us and the encroaching darkness.

The Black Queen's tendrils smashed into it with a sickening wet slap, the force sending tremors through the air. Cracks spiderwebbed across the barrier, the shimmering light flickering and dimming with each successive strike.

I felt helpless useless. My fists clenched at my sides as I watched Maeriel strain to maintain the barrier, her face contorted in a rare display of effort. I knew she couldn't hold her off for long, not in her current state.

"You can't run from me forever, John," the Black Queen cooed, her voice dripping with malice and honeyed cruelty. "You belong to me... You always have, and you always will."

Something inside me snapped.

I wouldn't let her take me again. I couldn't.

"Fuck off!" I shouted.

"You insolent little—" the Black Queen snarled, her patience finally snapping. With an inhuman screech, she lashed out again, her form growing more erratic, more monstrous, her rage twisting her into something barely recognizable as elven.

But before she could strike, a golden blur cut through the darkness.

"Back. Off."

Adora's voice rang like a bell of divine judgment, and in an instant, Excalibur's radiant light slashed between us and the Queen, forcing her to recoil with a pained, guttural hiss. The sacred blade pulsed with celestial power, its holy glow burning through the darkness like the first rays of dawn piercing the night.

The Black Queen staggered back, her form flickering and writhing in agony under the blade's radiance. "You meddlesome girl," she spat, black ooze dripping from her form like tar. "You think you can protect him forever? He belongs to me!"

Adora's stance remained unwavering, her expression set in grim determination. "John belongs to himself," she declared, the weight of her words sinking deep into my chest. "And as long as I draw breath, you'll never touch him."

I could see the fury brewing in the Black Queen's inky gaze, but before she could retaliate, Medarda's voice echoed through the sky in a deafening roar.

"Enough of this."

The golden dragon swooped low, her eyes blazing with ancient power. Flames crackled at the corners of her maw as she circled overhead, casting an imposing shadow over us all.

But in that instant, the Black Queen's barrier shattered like fragile glass, and before I could react, the darkness swallowed me whole. Thick, cloying tendrils of black ooze coiled around my limbs, tightening with a sickening squelch as they pulled me under. The world disappeared, replaced by suffocating pressure and an overwhelming, putrid cold that seeped into my very bones.

"No!" I heard Adora's desperate scream, her voice barely cutting through the suffocating void that consumed me. "He's mine!" The Black Queen's voice echoed through the abyss, a chilling whisper that slithered directly into my mind. It wasn't just words; it was a command, a promise, a possession.

Panic exploded in my chest as the ooze writhed against me, invading every inch of my being. I could feel it pressing against my mouth, my nose, forcing itself into my ears, trying to worm its way inside. My body convulsed violently, thrashing against the dark tide, but the more I struggled, the deeper it pulled me in. It wasn't just physical it was something deeper, something insidious. The Black Queen wasn't just trying to take my body; she was trying to consume me, to hollow me out from the inside.

I fought against it, my mind reeling, desperate for anything to hold onto. My fingers clawed through the thick mass of liquid darkness, and then, miraculously, they found something solid.

Smooth. Cool. Pulsing with a strange, alien energy.

An orb.

The only thing that wasn't pure ooze, nestled deep within the writhing black mass. It radiated power that felt raw and ancient, yet somehow familiar. This... this was her core. The heart of the nightmare wrapped around me.

I hesitated.

To drain it would mean my end, that much I knew. This wasn't like siphoning power from Tomae or any of her victims. The Black Queen was something far beyond them, an entity of unfathomable strength, millennia of accumulated magic, dark and unfathomable. There was no way I could take it all in without it consuming me in the process.

But better to die fighting than to succumb to what she had planned.

Gritting my teeth, I grasped the orb with all the strength I had left and pulled. A sharp, sickening jolt shot up my arm, my body screamed, and all I would ever know again was pain.

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Codex

Transcript of Vid Advertisement, Linktube

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