"Why do you always show up when I need you?" I groaned.

"Oh, what's with that face? You don't seem happy to see me?" Eva replied, feigning innocence. Happy to see YOU? Oh please, you almost got me killed. Why the hell would I be happy to see you? I threw a rock at her, which did... nothing. It fazed right through her.

"Oh, you realized I'm not really here," she said with a smug grin.

"Get out of my head," I hissed.

"How can I? You're the one who's choosing to keep me here," she crawled closer to me. "I'm here to help my dear Master. That's what he desires." What I desire? "You should pick up a blood vial, hurry up and drink it before you pass out on me." I looked over to where she pointed and found the vials among the leaves. I quickly drank one, and the hole in my chest began to heal.

"Zaktil, use it on that brat," Eva's voice echoed in my head.

"You act like it's easy to activate," I muttered, frustrated by my past failures to harness its power.

But I rose and picked up my sword. My body, now rejuvenated by the blood vial, felt stronger. I charged back into the fray, ready to clash with the Dread once more.

The Dread's laughter echoed through the clearing as I approached. Her eyes, though freshly gouged, were already beginning to heal—a stark reminder of her terrifying regenerative abilities. But I couldn't let that stop me. Solomon's drug coursed through my veins, enhancing my vampire instincts and sharpening my focus.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

I dodged her first swing, feeling the air rush past me. With a swift counter, I slashed at her legs, hoping to slow her down. She hissed in pain, but her wounds began to close almost immediately. Damn, her regeneration was faster than I remembered.

"Is that all you've got?" she taunted, her voice dripping with malice.

I didn't respond. Instead, I focused on the task at hand. I needed to weaken her enough for Solomon to perform whatever ritual he had planned. My mind raced, thinking of the lessons I'd learned from past battles and the tactics that might give us an edge.

Eva's voice rang in my head again. "Remember, you need to tap into your true power, Artorian. Only then will you stand a chance."

I gritted my teeth, feeling a surge of anger. I didn't want to rely on her, but I had no choice. Channeling my frustration, I felt a familiar heat rise within me. My vision sharpened, and my muscles tensed with newfound strength.

With a roar, I lunged at the Dread, my great sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. She tried to parry, but I was faster, more ferocious. My strikes came one after another, relentless and unforgiving. For the first time, I saw a flicker of fear in her eyes.

Solomon, watching from a distance, began to chant. The air around him shimmered with energy as a shouted it.

"ZAKTIL!" My words echoed through the forest. For a moment, the Dread stopped and twitched as her skin turned black with eyes. She vomited blood and began screaming in agony, curling into a ball.

I walked up and held my sword to her head. She seemed less insane now, more lucid.

"Your Majesty, wait!" Freya's voice called out as she ran toward me.

"Freya—" I started to say, but she interrupted me.

"Your Majesty, I apologize for following you, but please listen to my request. Then you may punish me however you please."

"Speak your mind," I said, curious about her urgency.

"Please, may I take her in..." For the first time, I heard Freya ask for something selfless. I looked back at the Dread, who managed to whisper one word, "Ma... ma..." Tears streamed down her face.

"Your Majesty, I beg—"

"You may," I said, lowering my sword.

Freya's face lit up with gratitude. She gently approached the Dread, helping her to her feet. The Dread clung to Freya, tears still falling.

"You did well," I said quietly, more to myself than anyone else. The battle was over, but the real challenge of healing and redemption was just beginning.