Clang!

“Guh!” Medrauta stumbled backwards, nearly losing her grip on her sword after barely managing to parry the Walpurgisknight’s latest strike.

That was the second time Medrauta’s sword had almost been knocked from her hand that day.

The first had been during the Walpurgisknight’s initial advance, his colossal obsidian sword plummeting toward the silver-haired knight in a crushing downward swing. Still reeling from the sight contained within the tower, Medrauta had been ill-positioned to receive the attack.

Though her technique and bladework were still sound, the knight’s focus had greatly diminished after inadvertently gazing upon the shield tower’s innards. There had been nothing particularly terrifying or hazardous within. Rather, its sole contents consisted of the statue of a woman in the very center and several bookshelves lining the wall.

Viviane too had been shocked by the sight, but to a far less extent than her knight. She hadn’t expected to encounter a depiction of this particular person within the shield tower, but she also wasn’t stunned by the sight, nor did it trigger the severe migraines that Medrauta was clearly suffering from now.

So this is what Emrys meant when she said Medrauta would understand everything here. Viviane grimaced, firing several shots from her bow with expert precision. Each arrow found itself in one of the many crevices of the Walpurgisknight’s armor, burying themselves deep in the black-clad knight’s body. Though they did little in terms of actual damage, her mastery over the Lake’s power now made the embedded arrows slightly hamper the Walpurgisknight’s abilities at the very least.

With how Medrauta’s condition was progressing, the knight needed every tiny advantage she could get. Viviane winced as she watched Medrauta’s latest exchange with the armored knight towering over her. The Walpurgisknight’s attacks were neither quick nor deceptive, but they were undoubtedly heavy.

Each powerful swing pounded into Medrauta’s hastily raised blade, the obsidian slab of iron hungrily biting into the steel of Medrauta’s sword. The longer the fight progressed, the worse Medrauta’s condition was going to become, and it was obvious that the Walpurgisknight was more than familiar with Medrauta’s weakness.

Rather than continuing to press his attack, the black-clad knight instead opted to position himself in ways that would forcefully expose Medrauta’s vision to the statue within the shield tower, hastening the debilitation of her mental faculties to such a degree that she was forced to scream with every movement just to keep herself from falling unconscious.

“Surrender.” The Walpurgisknight intoned, the rasp of his gravelly voice almost merciful. “You have no hope. Your strength leaves your body. Your limbs refuse your commands.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Medrauta responded through ragged breaths. She lifted her sword, swinging it at the Walpurgisknight’s chest.

Despite lacking her usual power and authority behind the blow, it was still a dangerous one that was capable of cleaving straight through her opponent’s armor. Yet, the Walpurgisknight did not seem to mind as he allowed the attack to fall on his chestplate.

As expected, the still-gleaming sword tore through the obsidian steel of the Walpurgisknight’s armor, biting deep into his flesh and drawing forth rivers of black blood that rapidly cascaded from the wound and leaked out the bottom of his breastplate. As always, the Walpurgisknight did not flinch even after receiving a grievous wound.

“Surrender,” the Walpurgisknight repeated. “You have already lost, Medrauta.”

Though the silver-haired knight wished for nothing more than to respond with a witty retort and drive her blade further through her opponent’s body, a sudden cluster of sharp pain assailed her head as the Walpurgisknight leaned slightly to the left. The small motion caused him to shift just enough, revealing the statue in the shield tower again.

Once more, Medrauta was faced with the visage of someone she never thought she would see ever again. There had been no portraits of her painted, nor had she remembered the woman’s face until very recently.

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Indeed, the sight that assailed her mind so violently was none other than the person who had been plaguing her dreams and the brief but poignant flashes of memories now piercing through her head. Though her face and body were hewn only in stone, the details were so remarkably captured that there was no mistake.

The statue standing in the center of the shield tower was none other than Morgana, mother of Medrauta.

Medrauta stumbled backward now, releasing her sword at last and clutching at her head with both hands. The pain had become unbearable and though she hated herself for her weakness, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it. The silver-haired knight fell to her knees, collapsing in agony, her head lowered as if she were waiting to be executed by the advancing Walpurgisknight.

Viviane leapt forward, firing a fan of arrows in a circular formation around the Walpurgisknight, the glowing arrowheads burying themselves only halfway in the ground. Infused with the mysterious energy of the Lake, silver strands lifted like mist from the arrowheads, creating a glowing band of light.

Please work! Viviane thrust her hand toward the arrows as the Walpurgisknight began to advance past them, directing all her will and focus to envisioning the result that she desired. In response, the symbol on the back of her hand flashed brightly as though acknowledging that it had received Viviane’s command.

A bright burst of light bloomed from the ring of arrows around the black-clad knight, enveloping him in a translucent dome of silver that pulsed brightly with the energy of the Lake. Though nobles could not utilize the magic of their Crests, the power of the Lake was an exception that allowed Viviane to harness abilities beyond such constraints. Neither magic nor witchcraft, the power of the Lake was capable of neutralizing effects from either form of supernatural ability, though there were some notable exceptions such as the Walpurgisknight’s immortality.

His advance halted a mere sword’s breadth from Medrauta, the Walpurgisknight studied the dome of silver light with a curious gaze, dragging his blade against its surface experimentally. The motion caused an incredible screeching noise to fill the air, forcing Viviane to cover her ears and exacerbating Medrauta’s condition.

The silver-haired knight shuffled backwards, desperately trying to create some distance as she attempted to fight off the excruciating lances of pain being driven through her skull. With her head lowered, she could no longer gaze upon the stone-wrought visage of her mother, but it was already too late. The memories that should have been locked away were now forcefully resurfacing, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

The only thing left for Medrauta was to be subsumed by the painless comfort of darkness once more, whether she went willingly or not. With a roar of pure determination, Medrauta rose to her feet once more, her blue eyes blazing brightly for a moment as she glared at the Walpurgisknight who remained facing her stoically within the silver cage that trapped him.

Viviane whirled around, gazing at her knight in amazement. In that moment, it truly seemed as though Medrauta would push past the pain of receiving her sealed memories, conquering the ancient magic that Emrys had placed upon her mind years ago. Alas, it was not to be. Medrauta held the Walpurgisknight’s stare for several seconds before meeting her lady’s eyes.

Offering Viviane a soft smile laced with regret, Medrauta’s eyes glazed over as she toppled onto her back, landing in the grassy dirt that ringed the shield tower’s surroundings. Viviane’s eyes widened in shock and horror as her knight fell unconscious during this pivotal moment, and though she knew her barrier was the only thing holding the Walpurgisknight back, she could no longer bring herself to concentrate on it anymore.

Not while Medrauta had collapsed in such a vulnerable position. Abandoning all other thoughts, Viviane rushed forward to her falling knight, channeling all her strength into her legs as she drove forward rapidly, catching Medrauta just before she crashed against the ground. Just like the other times she’d fallen unconscious, Medrauta’s breathing and heartrate remained stable yet faint, and though unresponsive, Viviane took solace in the fact that her knight still lived.

“...Medrauta, please!” Viviane pleaded, tears beginning to form in her eyes as the Walpurgisknight continued his advance, the barrier impeding him now dissipating into the air. “Not now...! Not like this...!”

The Walpurgisknight stopped before Viviane and Medrauta, the steel of his pitch-black boots sucking away the last glimmers of the setting sun. He held his obsidian sword above his head, raised high as if heralding the coming of night.

Viviane did not look up. She kept her eyes focused on the slumber face of her beloved knight. She wanted her last sight to be the face of the woman she loved.

Her arms clutched Medrauta tightly in a warm embrace, stoically clinging onto their last seconds together. In another moment, they would be no more. But for now, while their hearts still beat, she wished to share that rhythm with her beloved even for just a second longer.

But time slipped through her fingers like sand. The last light of dusk soon vanished and at last, the horizon swallowed up the sun, leaving only darkness in its absence.