Zia wasn’t sure where she was. The beast knocked her back quite a distance; maybe several hundred, thousand, no millions of feet away? It didn’t matter much to Zia, she was never good with numbers. What did matter was the fact that she somehow lost both of her wraithbone axes when the beast hit her. Losing even one axe was devastating, but two? Unacceptable. She didn’t even care for the pain she felt all over her body, she lost her axes.

Her axes had always meant the world to her. They were one of the few things in her life she actually cared about, save for her brother as well. Zia hated feeling defenseless, she hated being vulnerable, she hated feeling so weak.

Furious as she was, Zia was still alert enough to instinctively sidestep an arrow that was shot her way. The projectile appeared unlike anything she had seen before, for it was completely made out of glass. Turning her head towards where she believed the arrow originated, every single muscle in Zia’s body immediately tensed.

A few dozen feet away, a figure stood in stark contrast to its surroundings. It possessed a humanoid form, seemingly a woman, yet her composition defied all common sense. Her entire body shimmered with an ethereal translucence, as her flesh was crafted from the pure glass.

What perplexed Zia even further, however, was the figure's attire. The glass lady wore a hooded cloak that also seemed to be made out of glass. The cloak somehow billowed in the wind,as if it were made from normal fabric. In the transparent hands of the glass lady, an ornate bow gleamed with an otherworldly radiance. Waves of ethereal energy pulsed through the intricately crafted weapon, casting a surreal glow upon the surroundings. With each pull of the bowstring, an arrow materialized in an instant. And now, the glass lady unleashed her deadly aim, sending an arrow hurtling through the air.

Zia's reflexes kicked in, she dropped to the ground, narrowly evading the lethal trajectory of the glass lady's arrow. The projectile whizzed past her, slicing through the air. But the glass lady was relentless. She unleashed a relentless flurry of arrows towards Zia, each propelled with supernatural swiftness. Zia, found herself pushed to her limits, she weaved and dodged in between the glass lady’s arrows as best she could. However, despite her efforts, a few arrows managed to find their mark, grazing her skin.

A jolt of agony shot through Zia's body as she instinctively glanced at her wounded leg, a gash now gaping wide and oozing blood. She knew she couldn’t keep dodging; she needed a weapon, something to tip the scales in her favor. As she evaded the relentless rain of arrows, Zia's searching eyes darted across the environment, scouring her surroundings for something, anything, to wield. Yet, she found nothing of use: scattered rocks, but too small to wield as a weapon; tree branches, too fragile to matter; and a few dozen lifeless birds, Frustration surged within Zia as her gaze returned to the glass lady, preparing to take another shot.

Summoning every ounce of strength she had left, Zia lunged forward, covering the distance between her and the glass lady in an instant. Just as the glass lady prepared to release her next arrow, Zia's fist connected with bone-crushing force, striking the glass lady's torso and sending her hurtling toward the ground.

The glass lady's form crumpled, her torso shattered, sending shards in all directions. Zia winced in pain as fragments of glass pierced her skin, embedding themselves deeply into her flesh. Her knuckles were now covered in uncountable shards of sharp glass. She withdrew her hand, blood mixing with fragments, yet she managed a sigh of relief. The glass lady was dead, or so she thought.

Within seconds, the eerie sound of glass clashing together reached Zia's ears from behind. Slowly turning her head, her eyes widened in astonishment at the sight before her. Shards of glass materialized out of thin air, converging and reassembling themselves to form yet another manifestation of the glass lady. Complete with her hooded cloak and taut bowstring.

Without thinking, Zia's adrenaline-fueled determination propelled her forward, each stride carrying her closer to the glass lady. Like lightning, Zia's fists met the glass lady's chest once more, the force of her blows resonating through her entire body. The sound of cracking glass filled the air as the glass lady recoiled from the ferocity of Zia's attack.

Briefly, Zia breathed a sigh of relief, that is until she heard the sound of glass reforming behind her once more…

Zia's fists clenched with raw determination, her knuckles pulsating with a mixture of adrenaline and pain. She could taste the metallic tang of her own blood on her lips, but she refused to relent. With a primal scream erupting from her throat, she lunged forward, aiming a devastating punch at the glass lady's form.

Her fist collided with the crystalline figure, shattering it into a myriad of shards that scattered through the air. Zia's heart leaped with a flicker of hope, her breath caught in her throat as she anticipated victory. But to her dismay, the shards began to coalesce, reforming before her eyes. The glass lady emerged once more, unscathed.

Zia launched herself at her ephemeral foe again, her fists becoming a blur of furious strikes. Blow after blow, she unleashed the full force of her fury, channeling her desperation into each punch. Yet, with each devastating strike that sent the glass lady's form shattering, she only witnessed the glass lady's ethereal essence reassembling once more.

***

Sedris knew something was wrong when he heard the sound of glass being shattered over and over again. He had always had a strong connection to Zia, in a literal sense, whenever one of them was in danger, the other sibling would always seem to have this innate feeling of unease. And Sedris was feeling very uneasy indeed, he knew his sister was close, he just needed to turn the corner and-

Sedris froze in place as he arrived at a clearing where a woman made out of pure glass stood. Underneath her feet laid the broken corpse of his sister. Sedris saw a lot of bloodshed and carnage in his lifetime, but the mangled state of Zia’s corpse nearly drove him nauseous. His sister’s body was riddled by uncountable shards of glass: large and small. Blood seeped into the crystalline shards, tinting them a bright red.

So transfixed was Sedris by the sight of his sister’s corpse, that he nearly forgot to dodge when the glass lady fired her arrow at him. Fortunately, thanks to his heightened reflexes, Sedris managed to duck and roll out of the way, dodging out of harm's way. Then, he hoisted his glaive and prepared for combat, he needed to avenge Zia.

With measured precision, Sedris's instincts kicked into overdrive as he maneuvered through the onslaught of crystalline arrows. Every fiber of his being was focused on a singular objective: to deliver the killing blow with his glaive.

And then, in a single decisive strike, Sedris's glaive found its mark, piercing through the glass lady's crystalline torso. Her form erupted, fracturing into untold millions of shimmering shards that cascaded through the air.

Yet, one by one, the fractured remains of the glass lady's form transformed into a storm of glass shards, their trajectory altered, aimed at Sedris. He tried to evade the deadly assault, his body contorting and twisting in a desperate attempt to escape the impending shards.

Sedris's instincts kicked into overdrive as he attempted to evade the onslaught of the lethal assault. His body contorted, twisted, and weaved through the air with desperate agility. Every fiber of his being strained, every muscle screamed in protest as he sought to escape the impending shower of pain. But the shards were relentless, their pursuit unyielding.

One by one, the shards found their mark, piercing Sedris's flesh with cruel precision. Agonizing cries tore through his throat, blending with the sounds of shattering glass. With each puncture, more and more pain coursed through Sedris's veins.

Sedris's resilience gradually waned, his strength faltering with each new wound inflicted upon him. The pain, sharp and unrelenting, threatened to consume his consciousness, yet, through the haze of agony, a flicker of determination burned within his eyes, he was not willing to give up yet.

Yet, the storm of glass shards raged on, an embodiment of the glass lady's wrath. Sedris's movements grew sluggish, his breath more labored, and his vision increasingly blurred. Anguished cries escaped Sedris's lips as more shards of glass tore through his flesh, lacerating his being with merciless precision. Blood flowed freely from the wounds, staining his garments.

Sedris staggered backward, his grip on the glaive wavering. His vision became hazy, the world tilting precariously as he fought to maintain his footing.

“Curse you!” Sedris spat at the glass lady, still reeling in pain.

Then, Sedris heard the sound of glass reforming from behind his back. As he turned, he saw the glass lady’s form begin to reconstruct itself once more, except this time, it seemed to speak, “I…Iri…Irina.”

“I..Irina?” Sedris said out loud, confused.

“I…I am Irina, and I will protect…Ishgria.” the glass lady said, drawing her bow once more.

***

“Part of me wonders if all of this was my fault,” Rhea said.

“That doesn’t matter for now, what we need to do is focus on solving this issue once and for all.” Remuria said.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The pair had been walking for a few hours, making their way north: towards Castle Arstella. Though they faced some minor resistance from the occasional chimera which crossed their path, their trek had otherwise been uneventful.

“I just feel so powerless.” Rhea said, “I have a bad feeling about all of this, first I was used by the Night Terror and now by the prophet too.”

“Suppose you are right, that all of this was your fault, does that change what we need to do now?” Remuria said.

“I…I suppose not, we still need to try and save Ishgria, somehow, though I’m not sure if trusting in the prophet’s advice to go to the castle is going to do that.” Rhea said

“I don’t trust the prophet either, but he’s the best lead we have for now.” Remuria said.

“Well said, Remuria.” a booming voice responded, causing Rhea and Remuria to startle.

“Who was that?” Rhea asked, drawing Nemaia.

“I don’t know, but best be prepared,” Remuria said, manifesting Oros.

“I would not be so eager to jump to violence, if I were you.” a voice boomed.

“Show yourself coward!” Rhea yelled out.

“As you command, princess.” the voice replied.

Suddenly, a clad in armor bearing the insignia of an Ishgrian commander strode out from the surrounding woods and into view. He had a graying beard, the look of years of wisdom evident in his eyes.

“Commander Olmus?” Remuria asked out loud.

“Ah, Remuria, I remember you still from when I visited the main palace long ago, I’m happy to see you are well.” Olmus replied.

“But what are you doing here?” Rhea asked.

“I don’t have much time left, princess, I need you and Remuria to save me.” Olmus replied, closing his eyes.

“Save you? Save you from what-,” Rhea paused her question as what she saw caused her eyes to widen in disbelief.

The once human form of Commander Olmus shifted and writhed, within seconds, his body had grown to gargantuan proportions, his head now deformed into that of a sneering horse’s. A large eyeball dangled from one of its eye sockets, held together by a single strand of reddish flesh. The former commander’s limbs had now grown elongated legs ending in ironclad hooves. Dozens of large tendrils dotted the former commander’s new form, writhing and grasping at the air every second.

Rhea and Remuria exchanged glances with each other. Both understood what they needed to do. When the beast that was once Commander Olmus charged at them, the pair knew it would not be an easy battle.

With relentless determination, Rhea and Remuria unleashed a flurry of strikes upon the monstrous form of Commander Olmus. Their blades, Nemaia and Oros, cut through the air with desperate precision. With each swing, Rhea and Remuria desperately hoped to find a weakness in Olmus's monstrous form. But to their dismay, with each successful strike, Olmus’s body recovered almost immediately, his flesh rapidly regenerating from each cut and gashing wound. His monstrous tendrils then lashed out with a relentless ferocity. Rhea and Remuria evaded as best they could, but the tendrils seemed to anticipate their every move, fatigue crept through their limbs, their muscles protesting with every movement.

The former commander’s attacks were unrelenting. He reveled in their struggle, his deformed visage twisted into a cruel grin. With an unnerving agility, he sidestepped a slash from Rhea, before retaliating with a sweeping strike that sent the princess crashing to the ground. Remuria, consumed by a mix of fury and fear, launched a desperate assault, but her strikes were deflected effortlessly by Olmus's ironclad hooves.

Gritting their teeth, Rhea and Remuria struggled to their feet, their vision blurred and their bodies trembling. As Rhea fought against the relentless onslaught of Commander Olmus, desperation seeped into her every movement. Nemaia trembled in her grasp, with each clash of steel, her heart pounded rapidly in her chest.

But in her desperation, Rhea's focus wavered, her concentration faltering. She glanced at her own bloodied hands, a dangerous thought sparking within her mind: blood magic. Though she wasn’t sure of her capability, with a mixture of fear and determination, she made a desperate choice.

Closing her eyes, Rhea reached deep within herself, drawing upon the wellspring of power that resided within her blood. She chanted strange incantations, her mind seemingly knowing them out of nowhere, crimson energy began to swirl around her, an ominous aura taking shape. But, the magic eluded her grasp: the swirling energy spiraled chaotically, flying out in all directions before vanishing into the air. In her momentary vulnerability, Commander Olmus seized the opportunity.

With a sinister grin, Olmus's elongated arm lashed out, striking Remuria with, the force of the impact sent her sprawling to the ground, her body crumpling under the weight of the assault.

Dread coiled around Rhea's heart as she witnessed Remuria's still form, the weight. Tears welled in her eyes as she clutched Nemaia tightly. Her failure weighed heavily upon her, filling her with a self-inflicted guilt.

Rhea's heart pounded in her chest, a tempest of anger and frustration swirling within her. The weight of her losses, the pain of her failures, all converged into an overwhelming surge of raw emotion: a primal scream.

In that moment, the crimson blade responded to the intensity of her emotions. As if awakening from a dormant slumber, Nemaia ignited with scarlet flames that danced along its razor-sharp edge. The flames grew brighter and fiercer with each passing second, mirroring the intensity of Rhea's anger.

Her eyes blazed with determination as she advanced toward Commander Olmus. With every swing of her blazing sword, the flames licked at the air, leaving trails of scorching heat in their wake. Each strike only added more fuel to her fury, the scorching flames leaving smoldering marks on the abomination's twisted flesh.

The flames that engulfed Nemaia licked at Olmus's grotesque form, searing his flesh and preventing his regenerative abilities from taking effect. His monstrous limbs thrashed in pain and frustration as the flames ate away at his flesh.

As the battle raged on, Rhea's strikes grew more precise, exploiting the weaknesses exposed by Nemaia's scorching flames. She danced around Olmus, evading his desperate lunges and retaliating with relentless fury. Soon, Rhea found the opening she needed to end things. With one great leap, the princess took to the air, barreling down on the monster. The clash of steel against flesh echoed loudly as Nemaia found its mark. Rhea's strike was true, the blade slicing through Olmus's twisted neck: a torrent of darkened blood erupted from the severed stump. Olmus's gargantuan form convulsed in its death throes, a guttural, unearthly cry escaping from his twisted maw.

Rhea landed gracefully, her eyes fixed upon the decapitated monstrosity before her. The lifeless body of Commander Olmus slumped to the ground. Rhea stood amidst the aftermath of the battle, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The scarlet flames of Nemaia flickered and waned, their purpose fulfilled.

As the smoke of the battlefield settled and silence enveloped the scene, Rhea wiped the sweat from her brow, her gaze fixed upon the severed head of what was once Commander Olmus.

“Well done, princess.”

Rhea turned towards the source of the voice. Her visage turned to a frown as she recognized the figure approaching her, “greetings prophet, I…did not think you would be here.”

The prophet’s golden mask seemed to shine even brighter than usual, “I come as I am needed,” they said bluntly, “your opinion of me is irrelevant.”

“I don’t have time for this nonsense, Remuria is dying.” Rhea scoffed, turning her back on the prophet.

“Your lover is dying, princess, and you will need my help should you want to save her.”

Rhea paused. Shooting a glare at the prophet, “you did this, you set us up to die.”

“No, I did not plan anything,” the prophet explained, a hint of contempt in their voice, “you have your own weakness to blame.”

“So now you are just here to insult me?”

“No, as I said, I can help you save Remuria.”

“But there’s a catch, isn’t there?”

“If that is what you want to call it, yes, you must continue alone to Castle Arstella and confront Queen Phaedra.”

“And I’m supposed to just leave Remuria here?”

The prophet walked closer towards the princess, “I can keep her safe, for a time.”

“You really think I’m going to trust you? Just like that?” Rhea scoffed.

“I don’t need your trust, only your cooperation.”

“And what are you-,” Rhea felt a headache worm its way into her skull. She dropped to her knees, clutching her head.

The prophet walked past Rhea and towards Remuria, kneeling over her, “I’ll be taking your companion, princess.”

“No…please…no.” Rhea muttered out weakly, fighting against the pain that seized her.

“You will have her back in good health, after you follow my advice.” the prophet said dismissively, placing a hand over Remuria.

“Don’t you-,” before Rhea could even finish her sentence, the prophet was gone, taking Remuria with them.

Rhea breathed out a heavy sigh. There was much left to do.