The wind howled through the twisted trees, carrying the stench of charred earth and corruption. Shadows clung to the clearing, obscuring the dark figures that gathered there, their movements unnaturally still. An air of malevolence hung thick in the gloom, as if the very night itself recoiled from the evil about to unfold.

Bursts of rattling metal and agonized whimpers broke the eerie silence. From the cloaked ranks emerged twisted, emaciated creatures—goblins, their bodies marked by festering wounds and chained together, stumbling forward under the weight of their bonds.

At the center of this dark gathering stood a lone figure, his midnight robes swallowing the faint light. Lord Vathros radiated an aura of cold authority, the silver clasp at his throat glinting like a predator's eye.

"Get ready, boys," one of the men muttered, his tone dripping with cruel anticipation as he peered through the cabin's grimy window. "They say she was the most beautiful in all o' Valar. Still is, ain't she?"

Another let out a grating chuckle. "Might be we could... keep her 'round a bit, eh?"

Vathros's hand shot out, closing around the speaker's throat with crushing force. "Mind yer tongue, fools," he snarled, his grip unyielding. "That woman in there, she burned through half the royal guard to get away. Yer crude appetites'll get ye killed faster than any curse."

He released the man, who stumbled back gasping, and straightened his robes, his scarred face twisted in a mask of barely contained rage. "Now, enough o' yer foolishness. This is no simple snatch an grab."

The mage, Aldrich, stepped forward, unrolling two ancient scrolls whose crumbling edges seemed to drink in the shadows. "The preparations are complete, m'Lord," he said, his scholarly tone at odds with the malevolence that hung in the air. "The goblin sacrifices will fuel the summonin. Their pain an fear will draw forth creatures far darker than simple revenants."

Vathros nodded, his gaze fixed on the cabin. "Begin."

Aldrich raised his hands, and the chained goblins' agonized screams rent the night as dark energies tore at their very essence. Their bodies twisted and contorted, flesh and bone warping under the strain of the magic. The earth beneath them blackened, corrupted by the ritual's power. From the tainted ground, nightmarish forms began to rise—ghouls with razor-sharp claws and revenants whose hollow eyes gleamed with ancient malice.

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The cabin shuddered as the dark magic pressed against it, the acrid stench of smoke and char seeping through the walls. Inside, Lyna felt the weight of the spell like a physical force, pressing against her chest. She looked to where Alira lay resting, oblivious to the horrors gathering outside.

Lyna's heart raced as she took up a protective stance before her daughter's door, trembling but resolute. "Stay here," she whispered, her voice taut with fear. "Stay hidden, Alira."

The cabin door creaked open, and Vathros strode in, his presence like a living shadow that smothered the air. The floorboards groaned under his weight as he settled into a chair, lifting a cup of water from the table and taking a slow, deliberate sip, his cold gaze fixed on Lyna.

"Lyra Leonhart," he said at last, setting down the cup. His voice was smooth, mocking. "Did ye think a new name an' a quiet life in a backwoods hovel could keep ye hidden forever?"

Lyna's response was steady, though her hand instinctively reached for her absent wand. "Vathros. I thought you'd have found another master to serve by now."

"Ah, so ye still believe yer clever." Vathros's smile widened, his scarred face twisting in a grotesque parody of pleasure. "Or mayhap ye thought that 'cause ye left me broken that day, ye'd be rid o' me for good." He traced the gnarled, twisted skin of his cheek, a remnant of old burns. "Turns out, some fires don't heal so clean, Princess."

His eyes gleamed with malice. "It still hurts sometimes, ye know. What you an' yer pet did." He leaned forward, savoring each word. "Speakin' o' which... where is that brave dog o' yours?"

Lyna's hands clenched at her sides, but she remained silent.

"Ah," Vathros murmured, realization dawning. "So he finally died. Tell me, Princess—was it quick?" His voice dripped with false sympathy. "Or did he suffer? Did he gasp for breath, clutchin' at life like I did that day?"

Tears slid down Lyna's cheeks, but her voice was firm. "Please... don't hurt my child."

Vathros's smile widened, baring teeth like a predator. "Ah, so that's where yer loyalty lies now, is it?" He stood, his movements fluid despite his scars. The cabin creaked and groaned under the strain. "Last time, capturin' you was my mission. One I failed..." His hand drifted to the scarred side of his face. "Spectacularly. I would've settled for takin' just you, but now?" He shook his head, a dark chuckle rumbling in his throat. "Times change. Missions change."

Lyna's eyes narrowed, fear giving way to a resolve forged in fire. "You will not lay a hand on my daughter."

Vathros laughed, the sound grating and mirthless. "Always with the threats, ain't ye? An' here I thought ye'd be a tad more grateful." He tapped a finger against the table, eyes gleaming. The wood splintered under the force. "See, if I wanted to, I could've sent a dozen o' these creatures in, an' let 'em do the dirty work. But no..." His gaze shifted to the cabin door, where the revenants' hollow moans echoed. "I wanted to see it myself."

Lyna's body tensed, every muscle coiled like a spring. The air crackled with the intensity of her focus, the temperature rising as her magic stirred. Without her wand, her options were limited, but she was far from helpless.

"Yol Vistra Solis Ignatras!" she chanted, her voice steady as she wove the ancient spell.

Flames erupted around her, a crown of fire that cast her features in a fierce, unearthly glow. The air shimmered with the heat, waves of scorching air rippling outward and causing the cabin's timbers to groan and splinter.

Vathros's eyes narrowed. "Oh, are ye goin' to burn me again, lass?" He raised his hand, his wand emerging from the folds of his cloak—a midnight-black shaft etched with glowing runes. "D'ya think I forgot how ye nearly scorched me to cinders?" His lips curled in a sneer. "Kill her."

At his command, two of the cloaked figures lunged forward, darkness coalescing around them. Lyna reacted with blinding speed, thrusting out her hand and unleashing a torrent of flames. The fire roared to life, engulfing the attackers in an instant. Their agonized screams were quickly swallowed by the deafening roar of the flames as their bodies were consumed, charred flesh and bone crumbling to ash.

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But Lyna was far from finished. She spun, summoning four more fireballs in her hands, each one glowing with a fierce, primal intensity. With a flick of her wrist, she sent them hurtling toward the remaining dark mages. The fireballs exploded on impact, the force of the blasts sending the cloaked figures crashing into the cabin's walls, their forms charred and lifeless as chunks of burning timber rained down around them.

Yet Vathros remained, his cold, calculating gaze fixed on Lyna. Shadows seemed to cling to him, as if the very darkness sought to shield him from the inferno. "Impressive, but ultimately futile."

"You want my daughter?" Lyna's voice carried the harmonics of ancient power, her eyes burning with a righteous fury. "Then you'll burn like the others."

Vathros raised his wand, tracing a complex pattern through the air. The runes etched into the midnight wood glowed with an unholy light. "Let's see what yer fire can do this time."

Lyna struck first, a torrent of flames roaring across the room. The air itself seemed to ignite, the cabin walls catching fire as the inferno raged, the structure groaning and creaking under the strain. Embers swirled through the air, stinging Lyna's eyes and obscuring her vision.

Vathros's shield manifested as a barrier of writhing shadows, the flames splitting around him like water around a stone as they left charred marks along the walls, blackening every corner they touched. He laughed, dark and unhinged, as the flames left charred marks along the walls, blackening every corner they touched.

“Is that all ye’ve got, then?” he sneered, tracing a pattern with his wand. “Thought ye’d come at me with some fury, some vengeance. Yet here ye are, fightin’ like a scolded child.”

She said nothing, her gaze steely, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of desperation. Her body tensed with the strain of wielding such intense magic, and she felt her strength waning, her breaths growing shorter, ragged. The smoke was thick now, almost unbearable, clawing its way into her lungs. Her vision blurred at the edges, the heat pressing down on her like a smothering weight.

Vathros’s smile widened. “That all, Princess? Burnin’ bright but gutterin’ fast, like everythin’ yer kind touches.” He slashed his wand through the air, and tendrils of dark energy shot toward her, wrapping around her wrists, her neck, squeezing with cold, relentless force. She staggered, gasping as the chains of shadow tightened, pressing the air from her lungs.

“Always sacrificin’ yerself, eh?” His voice was soft now, almost tender with mock sympathy. “So noble, so predictable. But noble souls get swallowed in the end, Princess. There’s only so much ye can give before yer naught but ashes.”

"M-Mom?" Alira's trembling voice called from the doorway, her small form silhouetted against the flickering flames.

Lyna's resolve hardened, fueled by the desperate need to protect her daughter. A blade of pure flame materialized in her hand, and with a swift, savage slash, she broke free of the dark chains. "Better than servin' others while pretendin' to rule," she spat, lunging at Vathros.

Their battle turned intimate, brutal—flame and shadows clashing in a dance of light and dark, the cabin shuddering under the force of their blows. Sparks and tendrils of energy sprayed across the room with each ferocious exchange, igniting what remained of the walls and setting the air ablaze.

"Ye know nothin' of power," Vathros growled, blocking a thrust that would have taken his eye. The cabin creaked ominously, the roof beginning to sag under the weight of the fire.

"I know enough." Lyna spun, her blade carving through his shadows. "I know they sent ye after a child. How far ye've fallen, huntin' children for yer masters."

"Yer girl is more than just a child." His darkness pulsed. "But ye knew that, didn't ye? Yer bloodline, have deep secrets than any other ancient bloodline..."

"Touch her and I'll finish what I started." Her voice carried harmonics of ancient speech even in the common tongue. "I'll burn away every trace of you and Valar. First your flesh with my flames, then the blood that will seep from the burnt flesh crying for escape, and at last, your bones that will turn to ash with them. It will be a slow death, and more painful than the last time."

“Yer words are as empty as yer magic, Princess. Want to threaten me when yer arms are trembling. Even magic has restraints, think old magic the same? How long can you last before you get cripple? One minute? Or Two?”

“More than enough to turn you into a crisp,” Lyna said as she calmed her hand from trembling.

"Karnaes Mortis!" Vathros's wand moved in a complex pattern, his expression twisted with concentration. Chains of death-black energy wrapped around Lyna's throat and wrists, but her flame-blade held against the onslaught.

Through the haze of smoke and pain, Lyna’s gaze flickered to Alira’s small form hiding in the doorway, her wide eyes gleaming with fear. Her child. She couldn’t stop now—not while Alira watched, not when her daughter’s life hung in the balance.

"Alira, close your eyes!" Lyna screamed.

She drew a deep, shaking breath, letting the ancient words rise from her core, burning with a heat that felt older, fiercer than the fire itself. The ancient words built in her throat, power gathering like a storm. "Yol Toor Shul Ma’ar”

Her body became incandescent, flames spilling from her eyes, and her mouth—a blinding red fire that cut through the darkness. The cabin filled with the roar of dragon fire, consuming everything in its path, blazing toward Vathros with the wrath of a thousand suns.

Vathros’s face twisted in alarm, and he threw up a shield, dark energy pulsing as he chanted. “Vistego Maxima Tene—”

The explosion rocked the cabin, tearing through the walls, sending fiery debris crashing down. The force of the blast threw Vathros back, his shield barely holding against the inferno’s fury. Beams cracked, groaning under the strain, and the ceiling buckled, sending flaming fragments swirling through the air like deadly sparks.

Smoke poured into every corner, making it nearly impossible to see. Lyna’s world was reduced to the blinding light and the deafening roar, the fire twisting around her as if it had a mind of its own. The heat was unbearable, the flames scorching, pressing closer, and yet she stood, the flames bending to her will. She felt her strength drain with each passing second, yet still she fought, each breath a battle, each movement a defiance.

Amid the swirling fire and falling debris, his wand glowed with a menacing light. He uttered a final, corrupt incantation. “Kardius Letalis!” A blade of solidified darkness pierced Lyna's guard, sliding between her ribs with a sickening crack. Her flames guttered, the dragon fire dying with her breath as she crumpled to the floor, blood pooling beneath her.

"An impressive last stand," Vathros murmured, watching her as she fell. "But futile."

Blood trickled from Lyna's lips as she stared up at her killer, her voice fading. Her fire faltered, flickered, and then began to die, the light dimming from her eyes. She staggered, clutching at the wound, blood seeping between her fingers, her strength leaving her in slow, fading waves. “Alira... Run..." The light in her eyes flickered and died, the fire within them extinguished forever.

The flames around her flickered once more before taking hold of her lifeless body, the dragon fire retreating as her life drained away. The smoke, thick and suffocating, filled the air with an oppressive silence, broken only by Alira’s anguished cry.

“MAAA! MAAA!” Alira’s voice was raw, each word torn from her with the horror of a child’s worst nightmare realized. Her anguished scream shattered the shadows as Vathros's men seized her, tears streaming down her face. "Let me go!" she cried, pushing against them with all her small strength, her desperate pleas echoing into the smoke-choked air.

Vathros gazed down at Lyna's corpse, the flames from the last spell had taken hold of her clothes, sticking to her body like moss on rocks. Arms that were unburnt till now, were now crisp as burnt meat. Her beautiful face had minor burns. She was already dead, even if Vathros’s spell didn’t hit her, she was bound to die.

"Such fire," he murmured, "an they said ye were the weakest of them all." He turned to Alira, a twisted smile spreading across his lips. "But you, little one... ye have something far more valuable than fire."

Dark energy swirled around the woods where the ritual took place, Alira's desperate cries fading deep into the forest that had seen too much death, too much pain.

Behind them, the cabin continued to burn, flames consuming the last remnants of Mother’s final stand. It blazed brighter for a moment, a pyre for the fallen soul who had given everything. The crackle of flames and the crash of timbers echoed into the stillness as the cabin collapsed in on itself, ashes rising to meet the gray dawn as if reaching for the heavens in one last, futile plea.

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