Weeks passed. Freya cared for her mother, allowing none other than her own father and the royal physician to stand in her presence, fearing what the public's exposure to her state would cause. Widespread panic had been present in the upper echelons of society since the massacre that held place in the throne room, and the risk of word leaving the palace any further than it already had threatened the stability of the city.

Sights of impaled and splattered bodies on the rooftops below the palace were enough to drive a few of the people mad with suspicion and terror. These cases were treated individually by the king's council of sages. All was covered up, although not very convincingly.

It was a full month before a single word came from queen Shakti's mouth. She regained a small measure of consciousness while her daughter stared outwards at the crystal spire. She smiled, her frail voice calling out for her offspring.

Many more days were necessary for the progenitor to regain her full faculties and be able to converse regularly. At last, it seemed like all would return to normalcy.

Of the conversations held in these initial days, most inquired upon the nature of what had happened to lady Shakti. While she was able to piece most of it together, the last five-odd years had been a blur.

"My intentions were not my own. I felt confined to only a fraction of control over my own body." She explained as best as she could. It was widely unclear what force had taken hold of her, but she had not been the only one.

"I felt connected to a higher mind. One much wiser and more powerful than mine. And yet it was not only one. Too many to count. Yet, they all seemed smaller in a sense. Like mine. Unable, or perhaps unwilling to fight back. Some even felt familiar in more than one meaning."

"People you know? Or those gifted in the arcane arts?"

"Both. That's what I meant, child. Some felt stagnant, old, decayed. Others, like me, still struggled for a measure of freedom."

The mother took deep breaths between sentences. Remembering these moments was a harrowing experience all of itself. She seemed unwilling to go back and explore her memories, but such was necessary, and as Morgen had said in their previous encounter, she was the most powerful among them. She had to be the one to speak out. Time might be essential.

"Your voice brought me back, dear child. Your light was a beacon."

She paused before her next statement. She knew the weight it would carry.

"You may have a part to play in this conflict. The largest of all."

The young woman staggered. For the past month, she blamed herself for being frozen in inaction while people were slaughtered around her. She could have stopped him, but she wasn't strong enough to even dare try. That her mother would suggest her part wasn't over was more terrifying than all that came before. She protested.

"Mother, we have no proof I had any hand in your recovery, nor that I'd be able to accomplish the same feat for others, if such is what you infer."

She chose to say nothing of her inability to act during the madness that took over the throne room during that day. While youth grants a sense of invincibility, for one as insightful as her, it meant only she was all too aware of her flaws. But also the distinct room for growth. Her mother brought her skinny hand to touch her daughter's face. Such warm and tender skin. Freya held her mother's hand with her own.

"My dear, you must come to understand the potential you hold. I'm sorry for all that was kept from you. I can't fully blame the presence that held my mind from being my own, as I was swayed by my own conclusions in regards to what happened in those crucial days years ago. I misjudged. And you paid the cost."

She paused her apology before continuing with a proper incentive.

"We held you back, but no longer. You are free, and you are capable of so much more. Seek out your own desires, your own fate. Stay here if you wish, or go wherever you desire."

They both smiled. Tears streamed down across both of their faces. Much joy was had that day, the result of a reunion long overdue.

The next day began with the queen addressing her citizens officially for the first time in over half a decade. Speakers across the entire city buzzed alive as a female announcer preceded the queen, making sure all were ready to receive her words.

"Lindblum, your queen is alive and well. That does not mean that our people are safe from harm, however. We have been made aware of a dark force threatening not only our fair citizens but the world at large. Rest assured we will not rest idly while the threat still stands. Stay vigilant. Bear your great wits and find the solution. Progress and glory!"

A resounding, singular chant echoed all throughout the entire city and beyond as all citizens cried out those last three words in unison a total of three times. Invigorated screaming and applause held place afterwards, the city's mood suddenly taking a positive turn. Her foreboding words were not enough to dissuade the industrious citizens of their proud city, not when they finally knew she was with them once more.

Freya, herself, found new purpose in her mother's words and the citizenry's resolve. Already she could feel something in her growing. An accepting of self that would lead to much grander achievements.

In the following month, Freya trained under her mother in the ways she had been neglected in the past. She learned of the multiple facets of magic she'd yet to even hear about. While she was unable to perform the majority of them with any measure of success, the knowledge remained. She learned of magical objects and secrets scattered around their massive globe, such as the gateways introduced to her by Morgen.

It was not enough time, however, for her to feel confident in her abilities. For soon, a dark storm gathered on the outskirts of Lindblum, spelling doom for all. The maelstrom was clearly magical in nature, and the aura conjuring it was familiar to both Freya and her mother. Words were exchanged, and while lady Shakti was still too weak to fight whatever was to come, she believed her daughter to be fit to confront this evil head-on.

Stolen novel; please report.

A gathering of the city's combined military and magical might was called, and with battle plans settled, they assembled before the city's massive gates, equally massive cannons pointed at the battleground.

Opposite to them, a single presence hovered off the ground beneath the eye of the storm. Morgen was surrounded by a stream of black and teal-coloured energies, and while his visage was much the same as it had previously been, his right shoulder was covered with a crystalline substance, and his eyes were blindfolded with a heavy cloth. Somehow, his eyes still shone through the fabric, an intense violet hue breaking through the black. The forest behind him hummed with ominous noises, all vision of it obscured by the dark storm above.

Freya stood at the front of a well-assembled battle-line of mages, warriors and all manner of fighter in between. She wore more regal armour than she had in the past, far better engineered to be lighter and more resilient. It separated her from the crowd, who all seemed to recognize her as a leader. Her extended stay at her hometown had made her popular with the civilians.

Both sides sat idly as if waiting for the other to commence. While apprehensive that the bulk of the enemy forces was unknown to them, the Lindblumi stood their ground with a certain measure of eagerness.

Morgen made the first move, clenching his fists while holding them at his sides. The storm above grew more restless and the energies around him more aggressive. Growls and roars sounded from the forest as myriad beasts revealed their forms, emerging from the shadows. They were mostly species indigenous to the area, but all mutated to some horrific extent. Some bled from their pores and protruding oversized bones, while others barely resembled their original forms at all. They were fearsome foes, sure to rattle the will of even seasoned combatants, horrifying visions one and all.

Upon taking her first gaze at the minions she was meant to confront, Freya could feel her knees trembling with fear. The thought of the torture inflicted upon the animals to achieve such monstrous forms revolted her deeply, and she used this newly-found hatred for the nepenthe to steel her nerves. These abominations were much worse than the horrors she'd witnessed that day on the throne room, but she was a different person now. She felt ready to take him on.

Freya raised her spear high, rallying the troops. The hue of her eyes and the crystalline tip of her spear changed to a deep blue. The men and women behind screamed at the top of their lungs with a mixture of excitement and terror. What a frightening time to be alive.

She lead the charge, running ahead at dazzling speed, far outpacing the rest of the troops, even the more magically gifted. The creatures, too, had begun to charge in the opposite direction and she was upon them in a flash.

She closed her eyes as she made the first contact with the beasts. Her senses guided her as she spun her spear around her in a magnificent display of skill. She was focused on making her way to the architect of this madness and made short work of tormented minions as he crossed them like a gale of carnage. She opened her eyes, having passed the man's entire first line of defence, leaving behind a crimson hole.

While she was clear of the bulk of the madness facing them, the militia wasn't so lucky. They fought bravely and died gruesomely. Some were a match to the abominations they met in battle, but others weren't so lucky. Amidst the chaos, the creatures seemed to target very specific individuals and ignore others. It seemed to the lindblumi like strategy. A frightening prospect.

Splattered with the blood of so many needless victims, Freya stared the nepenthe in his obscured eyes and screamed as loudly as she could: "Are you not even brave enough to face what you're doing, that you have to hide the very sight from your eyes? Coward!"

The man smiled, saying nothing in turn. From his eerie crystalline shoulder-plate emerged a small sphere bound by a winding wire, a violet light emitting from it as it seemed to peer into her. A feminine voice sounded from it. "Is she the one?" The man nodded slowly in reply.

Freya, taken aback by this new sorcery, grew tired of the cryptic quality of all that surrounded this man. She spun her spear around her with a similar display of martial skill and dexterity as he'd shown that day in the throne room with his staff. Her eye and crystal focus changed colour to a deep red. With preparations in place, she held her spear aside and let loose a powerful bolt of lightning from her free hand's fingertips in the man's direction. It struck him cleanly, as he'd been unshielded unlike in their previous confrontation.

The man seemed to shudder and groan with pain as the blast of pure power coursed through his body, cooking it from the inside. The awful smell of burning flesh filled the air, and she smiled, pleased with the results of her training. She never anticipated he could be beaten so easily.

Her victory was not to be, as his expression switched from a pained one to a full round of echoing, deranged laughter. "Better! Much, much better. But you'll need more."

The hue of his eyes changed so quickly, so many times that she was unable to keep up with what came next. He raised his hands up towards the heavens, his wounds beginning to heal. The clouds above coalesced into a single spot, pinpointed above the lady warrior. The ground beneath her became liquid and thick as quicksand, trapping her in place. Even the adept usage of her enhancement magic wasn't enough to break her free.

Pointing a hand at her, he clenched his fist, and all air was ripped from her lungs. The dreadful asphyxia would be enough to collapse most folk instantly, but she stood resolute. Only a few seconds later, the clouds above her became a weapon, discharging a steady stream of lightning that overpowered her every sense, life immediately draining from her eyes. She was alive enough to experience the pain and humiliation, but only by his grace, as he all the while utilized a cruel form of healing to keep her awake.

This torture lasted several seconds before the man was interrupted by a mighty spear of coalesced energy that crossed the battlefield in a split-second, from the top of the crystalline spire and across his chest, leaving a perfect hole through which he bled profusely. This immediately interrupted his spells, leaving Freya's limp and wounded body on the ground. She was able to witness his wounding, which gave her hope that the battle was over before she lost consciousness, only seconds after.

Freya woke up only several days later. Her wounds had mostly healed by the aid of magic, but her pride and sanity were gravely wounded. Her mother stood by her, equally debilitated and feverish with worry for her daughter. The girl's opening eyes were as a gift to the mother, who hastily held her close, in tears, in spite of her daughter's wounds.

The girl groaned in pain, still affected by some internal damage. "Please, mother..." She attempted to stop her progenitor. "Is... Is he dead?"

Shakti gently let her daughter go, keeping her peace. She looked away, as if ashamed. Freya squirmed on her bed, lamenting her failure. Tears stained her lightly scarred face, groans of both pain and frustration emanating from her.

It would be days before the young princess was fit enough to move around, and by then she'd already ruminated sufficiently on the subject to attain the resolve she required for what came next.

The knowledge and expertise she required would only be acquired by means outside of the confines of her hometown. Her mother was still far too weakened by her harrowing experience to stay conscious for more than a few hours a day, especially after conjuring such a powerful spell to stop her daughter's torture.

Soon, she left the city in self-imposed exile. While none within the city's bounds looked upon her as anything but a golden hero, she judged her failure far more harshly. Many died in the bloody siege of Lindblum, and many would have been saved if she had been more capable. Only by the grace of her weakened mother had they been rescued from a far grimmer fate. It was indeed a losing battle, and Freya didn't intend on succumbing in this new war. Even knowing full well that the burden of dealing with the monstrous nepenthe wasn't one she should have been forced to carry, she felt more responsible for his continued existence now than ever before.