It was over. It was finally over.

Richard had been dead for a while, but Charlotte had continued to strangle and pour her hatred on him. Apparently she had finally realized that no one was listening, no longer, dropping her hands.

Desmond was...

Well, in conflict with himself.

Of course, he wanted to see Richard dead. He didn't feel sorry for him, not in the least.

He had gotten what he deserved. No, in fact less than he deserved, probably. He had had other plans for Richard. Far more brutal ones. For doing this. For forcing him to stoop to drinking other people's blood simply so he could fight and carry on.

But it was just...

Desmond was in shock. He hadn't believed Charlotte capable of doing something like this. She didn't even look like herself, from her expression. It looked like the face of a completely different person. And... And...

To be honest, he was nauseous.

Desmond swallowed.

Desmond was deeply concerned about Charlotte, as he had been all this time. But for once not for her life.

Yes. Not for her life, but for how she would live it.

——

"Do you hear me, you son of a bitch?"

Charlotte realized that the answer was no, not really. And that it had probably been that way for quite a while. In other words. She'd been shaking and screaming at a corpse for a while.

She threw it back onto the bed of rubble, a loud crunch sounded as the back of its head hit the stones.

Charlotte grunted in frustration.

It was as if he wanted to oppose her all the way. He hadn't even listened to what she had to say. He had died too quickly.

Charlotte slowly rose to her feet, and turned to the soldiers and the golden masks, who had not engaged in conflict. Letting her kill their leader right in front of her eyes. If they hadn't started fighting them yet, then that most likely wouldn't happen.

Charlotte took a step forward, and the golden masks stepped back in unison.

Were they afraid of her? Good.

"You have two choices. Either you help me save the capital... or you will be executed right here, right now. Just like him."

Two very clear choices.

And the truth is that she didn't really care which one they chose. They would end up the same way anyway, helping her would only delay the inevitable.

And now that she had Desmond back and on her side again, she didn't feel she needed to tolerate the existence of that organization. Not even to save the capital from Imperial invasion.

They argued about that. And Charlotte would give them time, she decided. Not much, but some.

"We can't allow this," a golden mask said in a low voice, but not low enough not to be heard.

They were outraged. Or at least they sounded outraged.

That indignation, that anger, where had they been when Richard needed it most? They had allowed her to kill him, and hadn't lifted a finger.

Had they thought she wouldn't dare? That she would let him go before it was too late?

Because she was a child?

A stupid little girl who could be kept in the dark, cheated, sabotaged, harmed, and then she would turn around and forgive them out of her infinite goodness?

They had underestimated her. Again.

Charlotte was sick of people looking down on her just because she was underage and, 'on top of that', female.

She'd had enough of it.

The discussion had continued, of course, even with her lost in thought.

"Since Richard stabbed himself there, he was already dead anyway," one argued. "It's not worth it. And you really want to ruin the reason he died?"

That convinced them. In the end, they agreed. They lined up, like good boys.

Well. They had no choice, anyway.

To ruin what Richard had died for. Why had he died? Because of arrogance. Because he saw her in a way... that he had no fucking right to.

She felt nauseous.

She was surprised he hadn't thrown up. Yet.

There they were. Her champion... No, her knight and the witch that accompanied him.

Charlotte approached them.

——

Charlotte was approaching them.

Desmond tensed, as if he thought the girl meant them harm or, in the first place, that she could do it. Both were ridiculous.

She stopped in front of them.

Yes, she didn't look like the same person. Even now, with all the muscles in her face relaxed, instead of contorted in her ecstasy of rage.

Or maybe precisely because of that. Because she shouldn't be relaxed after that.

It wasn't, at least, a normal response.

"How are you?" Desmond asked, also somewhat cautiously. As if he were stirring up a hornet's nest.

"I've never been better, in fact." was the girl's answer. Smiling, "I feel like... Like..." She snapped her fingers as she had a realization. "A baby fresh from the womb. Breathing for the first time in their life.

He didn't know if he understood what she meant, or if he wanted to understand. Desmond was silent. And as if to disguise that and his discomfort, he looked away and helped Abigail up.

By now her wounds had disappeared along with the blood.

"What was that? "Charlotte asked, lowering her voice slightly. The black smoke. Of course.

"I'd like to know, too. "Even though they'd faced that thing once before, they still didn't know.

Charlotte frowned.

"Don't lie to me. It knew you. It sought revenge.

"That's true. True, but... we still don't know what it is.

"And how to stop it? "She was looking, he imagined, to be given hope. Unfortunately, he couldn't answer yes honestly. And there was no point in lying to her in such a situation.

"Not even.

Charlotte nodded her head.

"All right.

All right? That's all?

She'd taken it rather philosophically, considering he'd thought she'd expected them to know a way to kill it. That they would give her hope they could get rid of him.

She doesn't even seem like herself, no, he thought. In many ways.

Every possible way.

"Soldiers! "Charlotte called to them and they gathered. The Albionese and also the golden masks, without complaint. Some looked back at Richard's corpse. But they left it where it was. At least for the time being.

All together, they climbed back up to what was now the top floor, after the spider had torn a good chunk out of the building.

They saw not an open sky, but a hole.

What the shadow had done with Abigail's power had gone beyond that hallway, the stairs and the floor below.

The ice had spread even outside.

So what was in front of them now was... well, that. A wall of ice, covering the hole the spider had made not long ago.

On purpose, to keep the building from falling on it? Or had it done all that unintentionally because it wasn't used to controlling such power, and it had gotten out of hand?

At least it was transparent, and they could see the situation through him.

Which didn't look very good.

They had won the battle inside the palace, but that had almost cost them everything. And there was still the war raging outside.

Right now, what concerned him was the remaining mechanical spider.

It was still standing, albeit wounded. Its 'heart' had a large gash in it, from where blue fire was constantly spilling out like blood. It poured out as it went after the enemies.

Behind Christina and Amy. He could see them clearly enough, even through the wall of ice.

Even if he couldn't, the living shadows had told him enough.

Even though they had left them behind, even though he had begged them to stay behind, practically, they had turned around and gone after him. Getting in the middle of this carnage, this horrible war.

Even the Imperial soldiers were suffering from the power of their own machine.

Fire was coming down on them too, indiscriminately.

Though of course not intentionally. Well, a machine had no intent in the first place.

I have to rescue them, he thought.

For the moment, they were managing to stay away from the mechanical spider. For the moment. But they couldn't finish it off, or they would have done it by now.

"Open this," Desmond said.

Abigail nodded, took a step forward, placing a hand on the ice. And made it disappear as quickly as it had come.

A hole led to a drop of more than twenty meters.

For Desmond and Abigail, however, it was a perfect and trouble-free exit. Not even very inconvenient.

"You stay here," Desmond said to Charlotte. "For the moment, at least, it's the safest place. Just keep your head down.

To his surprise, the girl didn't protest. But she didn't say anything either. Neither good nor bad. Waiting for her to listen, Desmond turned away without another word. Next, Abigail and he jumped down.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

To his surprise, Abigail grabbed him in midair, pressing him against her side. It became clear what she intended shortly thereafter. She used fire magic to slow their fall a few seconds before they hit the ground.

Once they landed, she released him.

"Thank you," Desmond said.

His condition might be pitiful, compared to what it had been, but even now such a small fall wouldn't break his neck.

Still, pain was pain and he'd been spared it.

Plus the seconds it would take to recover after the impact. It all counted. Of course it did.

Desmond looked around, observing the mess that had been unfolding as they fought for their lives inside the palace. The scene wasn't much different from what he had left behind in the palace. There was even blue fire, consuming the grass and advancing inexorably, outward from the palace grounds.

But there was one notable exception. That the vast majority of the dead were Imperial soldiers.

He diverted his attention to the biggest threat here.

The mechanical spider, which was still trying to catch Charlotte and Amy.

The two of them were coordinating to stay out of range of the creature's mad charge. Mostly Christina was grabbing Amy with her own shadow and pulling her out of the way, but Amy was also doing her part.

Creating barricades, coating spider legs with ice. Anything to slow the creature down, if only for a second.

Amy used her magic to create a nice chunk of ice just below where the spider would pass. And it stumbled, but not only that. It lost its balance and tragically fell sideways.

Tragically because it crushed not only a patio wall, but also the house behind it. It crushed it completely.

Desmond grimaced, and even from that distance he saw Amy's soul fall at her feet.

For it was possible that the citizens had already been evacuated. Being so close to the palace, it was not impossible. It was also possible, on the contrary, that the occupants of the house had already been slaughtered by the Empire.

But it was also quite possible that they had still been inside. And that Amy had just killed them.

Of course, it wasn't really her fault.

But she wouldn't see it that way.

The spider wouldn't even have fallen under normal circumstances, but it had that crack in the heart, from where blue fire was constantly spilling out. Not operating one hundred percent.

That wound had surely been Christina's doing. Not Amy's, she didn't have enough power to penetrate the heart.

Well, that was a non-issue. He didn't even know why he was wasting his time thinking about it.

Neither of them were to blame. The fault lay with the Empire for putting them all in this situation in the first place.

He had done the same thing in Kronos, the capital of the Azure Empire. This was like revenge. And a bit for his sins. And he did have the blood of innocent people on his hands, people who didn't really have anything to do with this war, not Amy.

He was guilty.

But, of course, he didn't care. He couldn't care. Because then, paralyzed by fear and guilt, he would get nowhere.

The world was too cruel to allow him to have such considerations.

Desmond and Abigail broke into a run, past all the Imperial soldiers, straight for the spider. They had to stop their mad dash or it would get much worse.

They suffered heavy damage until the machinery healed that crack in its heart, stopping the flow of blue fire.

Or until it ran out of fuel and stopped. Whichever came first.

It had wreaked great havoc on the Imperial forces around the palace, but it wasn't a good thing that blue fire was being sprayed freely. Far from it.

"Desmond! "Christina called out to him when she became aware of his presence.

They arrived at last. The team gathered to face the dying mechanical spider.

Had he not been poisoned, that is, had he been in a normal condition, Desmond would have unhesitatingly thrown himself like the idiot he was into the hole in the heart to try to finish the job even if it was from the inside.

Giving no importance whatsoever to the fact that he would die horribly, burning alive.

But he wasn't as strong as he used to be.

Now he wasn't even sure he could come back to life, and the strength was draining out of him with every passing second. It was something like the spider in front of him, now that he thought about it.

A wild animal that wanted to do as much damage as possible before it was drained. The situation didn't exactly look good. But Desmond wasn't worried.

Together again, he felt they could do anything.

——

Charlotte didn't respond in any way, verbal or nonverbal, to Desmond's plea. But perhaps he arrogantly assumed that it was done, that she would obey him, as he simply turned and jumped through the hole in the wall. Descending to continue facing the Imperial army.

It would be funny, a queen abiding by her own knight's orders, instead of the other way around.

Yes.

It was ridiculous to even think that. Still, Charlotte didn't move.

She remained where she was, near the edge, watching as he advanced among the Imperial soldiers. Dead and alive. How he was going through that mess, the blood, the corpses and the flames.

She was watching him in a way that might seem attentive, even anxious, perhaps. But mostly she was lost in her own thoughts.

For example, she could still feel her hands on that bastard's neck.

Charlotte could still feel the life draining out of him. And the insane pleasure that had seized her. No, to be honest with herself, she still felt it, and not exactly deep inside. That pleasure was at the surface of her skin. It made her vibrate.

She had no regrets, of course.

But, for one thing, she also wondered what the soldiers might be thinking of her. Although at the time it hadn't bothered her in the least.

She knew she had done nothing wrong, but she wasn't sure they all saw it that way.

Even Desmond had seemed vaguely uneasy.

Which was to be laughed at. On the battlefield, Desmond was a beast who showed no mercy or hesitation. He had done far worse than her, and yet he'd looked at her with some trepidation.

Or perhaps she was thinking too much.

In any case, it seemed her forces were. Thinking too much. For neither the golden masks nor her soldiers had moved.

"What exactly are you waiting for? "Charlotte asked, glancing sideways at the golden masks.

She wasn't afraid to face them, of course, even though she had killed their leader in front of them all just a few minutes ago. Maybe that was precisely why. If that hadn't been enough, what would make them act against her?

Well.

Even if that was a factor, it wasn't just that, or even the most important thing.

She was the queen. She had the power. They could do nothing to her.

The situation wasn't exactly ideal to go against her, an internal struggle couldn't break out in Albion when it was being invaded of all times.

Whatever the intentions of the golden masks, Charlotte intended to see them hang before the day was out.

Just as she intended to see all her enemies, the creatures that threatened her kingdom, dead and broken.

So it didn't matter, one way or the other.

It was all a matter of time, as far as she was concerned.

The golden masks did not react to what they might have seen as a provocation from her. Charlotte hadn't intended her words to sound as such, but she wouldn't mind them taking it that way either.

They could take it however they pleased. They were dead men.

In the end they descended the same path Desmond and Abigail had taken, namely that hole. Only it wasn't so easy for them. It was a gradual, careful descent, as they helped each other.

Teamwork.

They were skilled, well coordinated mages, with a fairly useful set of affinities, to say the least.

A great force.

But too corrupted to do anything with it all except seek to increase their own power. Now it was too late for anyone to put them on the right track. Now they could only die.

"You too. This is not over." This order was, of course, directed at her own subordinates. She issued the order without even bothering to turn to look at them.

Charlotte was still lost in thought, more than anything else.

She was vaguely aware when they left. Turning around, heading back the way they had come in the first place. Most couldn't take the same route as Desmond, Abigail and the golden masks, of course.

Either that or they preferred not to risk being shot in the air.

That was also a possibility. Of course.

Charlotte stayed where she was. Not because she was abiding by the request Desmond had made of her, believing it was for the best. Far from it.

She had every intention of throwing herself into battle, but not now, that was all. She had some thinking to do.

About many things.

About her past and the future.

——

"Do you think you can do this?" Abigail, at his side, practically side by side, whispered that. There was no reason to whisper. Or at least there shouldn't be.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

But it was clear to Desmond what had made her whisper. Of what she didn't want the others to know.

She must have realized that he wasn't as well as he was trying to pretend, despite his best efforts. That he was weaker and getting weaker by the second, just like the dying beast they had to defeat.

Desmond had been possessed by the shadow once.

And he only realized how many people he had killed after he came out of it. He had seemed to him to be conscious the whole time, trapped in his own body.

But still there were clear gaps in his memory. He had been drifting in and out of consciousness, unknowingly.

So he had hoped that the same thing had happened to Abigail.

That she hadn't seen what state he had been reduced to, giving everything he had to simply crawl towards the shadow. And strike a single blow. Just one.

He would have given it all so that he could at least feign in front of her. Reassure her.

But it wasn't going to be possible. She knew that.

She had been awake at all times. Anyway, one more reason why she was superior to him and the rest of the mortals. A goddess among men.

Regardless of what her status was or whether Abigail knew it, it's not like he could back out anyway. So he had no choice but to press on. And hope that what he could give would be enough.

It had been so far.

He wasn't forgetting the taste of defeat and helplessness, the feeling of dying with nothing he could do, when he had been poisoned.

He wasn't forgetting, really.

But this and that were different things. And, as he had said, he really had no choice.

There was no safe place in the whole city. The closest was the palace, where he had left Charlotte, but still....

Whatever the excuse, he couldn't just stand there and watch. He couldn't.

That was the most important thing.

"Let's go there," Desmond said.

He dashed for the spider. He reached for one of the legs, dodging the blue fire, and attacked, swinging the sword with both hands. Putting all his strength, his whole body, behind the blow.

He hoped to cut its leg in two.

That wouldn't destabilize the machine, since like any spider it had seven others to work with. However, at least it would be progress. However small it was.

He didn't even get that.

The blade of his sword cut, but got stuck in the metal halfway. He wasn't able to get it all the way through to the other side. Make a clean cut.

Although not so long ago he had been strong enough to snap another one of these machines in half. Not just a leg, the machine itself.

Fucking frustrating.

Not even being able to cut a leg off, come on.

Desmond drew his sword and struck again at the same spot. However, the second strike wasn't enough either. And before he could pull the sword back again to see if the third time was the charm, he was dragged upwards. Way up. As a result of the mechanical spider lifting that leg.

He looked down. A good fall awaited him. Long, too long.

He swallowed saliva.

The only thing that prevented that great fall was the handle of the sword, to which he was holding on with all his might. His feet dangled precariously over nothing.

The sword handle, but it couldn't hold forever.

Nor would it have to hold for long.

What Desmond feared wasn't falling, but being crushed by that creature, when it lowered its leg against the ground.

Desmond was wrong about that, however.

He didn't fall. He didn't hang so long that he lost his grip and fell.

Nor was he squashed like a bug.

Instead, he was tossed away like a piece of trash.

"Desmond!" Christina, screaming his name desperately. It broke his heart.

Especially since he knew she had very good reason to be worried. Once in the air, with nothing to touch, no surface to propel himself off of or stick his sword into, he could do nothing to break his fall.

Not by himself.

And it was too big a fall, if he hit the ground, he would break his neck. Yes or yes. There was no ambiguity.

He was thinking with a strange clarity considering the situation. The wind howling in his ears, the knowledge that if someone didn't save him, he was dead. He didn't like putting his fate in someone else's hands.

Abigail, of course, had immediately bolted after him. More desperate than anyone else.

Right now she was propelling herself with water, with fire and wind, with everything, everything she had and more. With every fiber of her being.

She drew her knife and threw it forward.

In less than a second, she disappeared and appeared where the knife was now, with it in her hand again. What was that?

Desmond knew that she could teleport the weapon attached to her back to her hand, no matter the distance, restoring it if it was broken. But he hadn't known that she could teleport to the weapon herself.

That was almost like a reproduction of Princess Charlotte's affinity.

Incredible, no doubt.

It was painfully clear that even her best efforts wouldn't be enough. She wouldn't make it in time. But maybe he could save himself. Desmond could call his sword back, like Abigail with the knife, so teleportation should be possible for him too. At least in theory.

Doing it without practice, at the last moment, that was a different matter altogether.

No matter how improbable it was, he had to at least try. Because it was the only thing he could do to save his own neck.

First things first. He opened his hands, dropping the sword.

Twisting and turning, he watched it fall even faster than he did.

He didn't have to wait for the sword to hit the ground or anything like that. Even if he could teleport himself to the sword about fifty feet off the ground, to say the least, that would be more than enough. Hard fall, anyway. But not one he couldn't recover from. Not one that would kill him.

It was unlikely to succeed in teleportation when he hadn't had any practice and, in fact, didn't even know what to try. He certainly didn't.

And he wasn't going to get it.

It wasn't working.

The ground was getting closer and closer, and it wasn't working. He imagined his neck cracking like a dry twig. He imagined his head exploding like a melon, spilling the contents all over the street floor.

No, not just his head.

After a fall like that, his whole body might well explode. And that would be all that would be left of him.

A red stain.

An anonymous mess in the middle of the street.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

It doesn't work!

He closed his eyes, as if accepting his fate.