The battlefield lay silent in the aftermath of the clash. Sarina knelt amidst the fallen, her sword buried deep into the ground beside her. The once-vibrant land was now an ashen wasteland, twisted by the fury of Azrathis’s dark magic. The faint wind stirred the dust, carrying with it the echo of past screams, and Sarina's chest heaved with exhaustion.

She looked up, her hands trembling as she rested her weight on the hilt of her sword. Her eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of life—her allies, the resistance, anyone who might have survived the onslaught. But all she saw was devastation. The demon queen's power had grown to a terrifying magnitude, and the resistance forces were scattered, broken.

Azrathis stood not far away, her figure shrouded in the smoke of battle, watching Sarina with a cold, calculating gaze. The demon queen’s sharp features were unreadable as always, her violet eyes glimmering with victory and a quiet, deadly amusement. The markings on her face pulsed faintly with dark energy, as if feeding off the despair that hung in the air.

"You fought well, little hero," Azrathis's voice was soft, but it carried through the silence, a sound as chilling as ice. "But once again, you have failed."

Sarina gritted her teeth, her hands tightening around the sword. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest, but she refused to falter. Not now. Not in front of Azrathis. She had come too far, endured too much to let her will be broken now.

"I haven't lost," Sarina whispered, forcing herself to stand. Her legs shook as she rose to her feet, blood dripping from the cuts that covered her arms and legs. The pain was nothing compared to the crushing weight of defeat pressing against her chest. But Sarina's spirit remained unbroken. "I will never lose to you."

Azrathis's lips curled into a slight smile, more amused than impressed. "Is that so?" She stepped forward, her long cloak trailing behind her, the darkness that surrounded her seeming to writhe and twist as she moved. "And what makes you think you can still win? You’re all alone now, Sarina. You have no army, no comrades to rely on. Even if you could stand against me, you are already too late to stop what’s coming."

Sarina's jaw clenched, her mind racing. It was true—she had lost so many of her comrades in the battle, and those who had survived were either in hiding or too injured to fight. But she couldn't let herself believe it was over. There was still hope. There had to be.

"I'm never alone," Sarina said, her voice firmer this time. She tightened her grip on her sword and lifted it from the ground. "As long as I still draw breath, the will to fight burns within me."

Azrathis's eyes gleamed, and she let out a soft, almost condescending laugh. "Still clinging to hope, even now? How endearing." Her gaze sharpened, and with a flick of her hand, the ground beneath Sarina's feet began to tremble. "Let me show you how futile your hope truly is."

Before Sarina could react, a surge of dark energy shot up from the ground, forming jagged, black spikes that erupted around her, cutting off her escape. She barely managed to dodge the first few, her body moving on instinct alone. But the onslaught was relentless. The air around her crackled with the oppressive power of the demon queen, and each movement became harder as the dark magic constricted her.

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Sarina's heart pounded in her chest, her eyes darting for a way out, but the spikes came faster, closing in on her from all sides. With a desperate cry, she swung her sword, cleaving through the closest ones, but for every spike she destroyed, more appeared, pressing her into an ever-shrinking space.

Azrathis approached slowly, watching with an expression of mild curiosity. "You resist so fiercely, but why?" Her voice was soft, almost coaxing. "Wouldn’t it be easier to surrender? To let go of all this pain, this endless struggle? You’ve fought long enough, Sarina. Isn’t it time you rested?"

Sarina's breath hitched, her grip on the sword faltering for just a second. Azrathis's words struck deeper than any blade. The exhaustion that had been weighing on her for so long now felt unbearable, a weight that seemed to crush her spirit as much as her body. For a brief moment, the idea of surrender, of finally letting go, seemed tempting.

But then she remembered why she was fighting. The faces of her fallen comrades flashed before her eyes, and with them, the memories of all the innocent lives still at stake. This wasn’t just about her. She couldn't give up, not while there were people depending on her.

With renewed determination, Sarina pushed herself forward, her sword flashing as she sliced through the spikes that stood in her way. The darkness seemed endless, but she forced her way through, her body moving on sheer willpower alone.

"Rest?" Sarina's voice was hoarse, but it burned with defiance. "I'll rest when you’re gone, Azrathis. Not before."

The demon queen's smile faded slightly, her expression darkening as the spikes thickened, closing in faster now. "So be it, then. If you wish to die fighting, I will grant you that wish."

The ground beneath Sarina's feet cracked, and more spikes surged upwards, aiming for her chest. Time slowed as Sarina braced herself, her mind sharpening with a single thought: survive. She threw herself to the side just as the spikes lunged forward, narrowly avoiding them.

But as she rolled back onto her feet, a sharp pain exploded through her side. She gasped, looking down to see one of the dark spikes had grazed her, leaving a deep, jagged wound along her ribs. Blood dripped down her side, staining the earth below her.

Azrathis’s gaze remained cold and unfeeling as she watched the scene unfold. "You cannot escape this. The chains of fate are already wrapped around you, Sarina."

Sarina's vision blurred for a moment, but she shook her head, forcing herself to stay focused. She couldn’t let the pain control her. Not now. Not with everything at stake.

In a sudden burst of clarity, Sarina realized something. The dark magic, the spikes—Azrathis was controlling them directly. If she could distract the demon queen, if she could disrupt her focus for even a moment, she might be able to break free.

Summoning all the strength she had left, Sarina pushed through the pain and charged toward Azrathis. Her blade gleamed as she raised it high, her mind clear and her goal set. If she could get close enough to disrupt the demon queen’s magic, she might have a chance.

Azrathis watched her with a detached curiosity, as if allowing her to come closer, waiting to see what Sarina would attempt. But as Sarina drew near, something unexpected happened—Azrathis’s expression flickered. It was brief, almost imperceptible, but Sarina saw it—a moment of hesitation, a crack in the demon queen’s unshakable confidence.

Seizing the opportunity, Sarina swung her sword with all the force she could muster. The blade sliced through the air, aimed directly at Azrathis’s heart. But just before it could connect, Azrathis vanished, dissolving into a swirl of dark mist that spiraled upward, out of reach.

Sarina stumbled forward, catching herself just before she fell. She looked around, her heart racing, but Azrathis was gone, her presence fading into the air like a haunting memory.

The spikes that had surrounded Sarina slowly receded, the ground returning to its former stillness. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of her labored breathing and the eerie silence that followed.

Sarina collapsed to her knees, clutching her wounded side. The pain was unbearable now, but she had survived. Somehow, she had survived. But this battle was far from over.

Azrathis would return. Sarina knew that. And when she did, Sarina would be ready.