Zeven stood at the edge of the palace courtyard—cloak torn, eyes hollow, fingers twitching with illusion magic ready to fracture reality itself.

  Rell tightened his grip on Lirah, shielding her small body with his own. Neyxa flanked him, already reaching for her daggers. The space between them shrank as Zeven raised his hand.

  Five more Zevens burst into existence.

  The illusions scattered, circling like wolves. Magic flickered around them—distortive waves that made it hard to tell where one ended and another began.

  “Don’t—” Neyxa started.

  Too late.

  The first clone struck, and Rell slid to the side with the grace of someone who’d fought half his life in places worse than this.

  He passed Lirah to Neyxa with one motion.

  “Hold her.”

  “What—”

  Rell didn’t answer.

  His body blurred—dashing forward with jungle-born reflex and street-scarred instincts. The first two clones lunged—

  Rell’s hand caught the first by the throat, lifting it effortlessly.

  “Fake.”

  He slammed it into the stone, dispersing it with a sharp crack.

  The next illusion tried to blindside him. Rell twisted, delivering a sweeping kick across its chest—his foot igniting with burst magic. It shattered into mist mid-spin.

  The real Zeven hesitated. That was his only mistake.

  Rell found him.

  “You not fight me. You fight you.”

  One punch to the gut—Zeven coughed blood.

  Then a rising elbow into the chin.

  Then a sharp hook across the face—

  BOOM.

  The air burst. Zeven’s body hit the ground with bone-snapping force.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  Silence.

  His illusions flickered out one by one.

  Neyxa blinked.

  “…Damn.”

  Ko Mala appeared from the nearby shadows. Thessia sprinted in behind him, spotting Zeven unconscious.

  Rell turned back to them.

  “Come. End this.”

  —

  Time Passed: 15 Minutes Later

  Location: Royal Palace – Throne Hall

  Inside the throne chamber, the marble walls glistened under moonlight seeping through the mosaic windows. The King slumped unconscious on his throne, but it wasn’t him the crew focused on.

  It was Vaerid Mal’zen.

  The Advisor stood like a phantom waiting at the heart of it all. Pale robes. Hands clasped behind his back. Not even a scratch on him from the kingdom’s chaos. His eyes glimmered violet beneath long lashes, calculating and calm.

  “You bring me a broken rebel and a half-conscious girl,” he said. “This is your rebellion?”

  Rell laid Lirah gently near the throne dais. Neyxa hovered beside her protectively.

  Thessia stepped forward.

  “You lose.”

  “I’ve just begun.”

  With one motion, he lifted his hand—and from the air unraveled a web of glowing silk.

  It was beautiful. Like spun stars. But wrong.

  Ancient Elven Mindweaving.

  The air thickened instantly.

  “Stop…” Neyxa choked.

  Thessia staggered. Her blade dropped.

  Both girls turned slowly.

  Eyes violet. Expressions twisted.

  Weapons raised.

  “Damn.”

  Rell took a step back as Neyxa lunged. He deflected her strike with his bracer, rolling past the follow-up slice from Thessia.

  (Rell thought)“Really? Now y’all work together?”

  Ko Mala moved toward Lirah, checking her vitals.

  Rell danced between blades—gritting his teeth.

  “This… worst team-building.”

  He ducked a slash, slipped under a high arc, and grabbed Thessia’s wrist, flipping her into Neyxa’s charge. The two collided, staggering.

  Still they pressed forward, eyes glazed, lost in Vaerid’s spell.

  Rell growled.

  “Come back… both of you…”

  Their strikes got sharper. Neyxa’s dagger grazed his arm. Thessia’s sword cracked stone beside his foot.

  Behind them—

  Lirah whimpered. The tension in the room tightened.

  And then—

  Zeven returned.

  Tattered. Bleeding. Barely standing—but alive.

  His eyes were his own again.

  “Advisor…”

  Vaerid turned, lips parting in mild surprise.

  Zeven lurched forward with the last of his strength.

  “For my sister…”

  The blade in his hand shimmered—a real one this time, not illusion. It sliced Vaerid’s shoulder, spilling blood.

  Vaerid’s grin faltered for the first time.

  Then rage replaced it.

  He raised a hand and fired.

  A raw blast of pure elven magic struck Zeven point-blank.

  BOOM.

  The boy was flung backward—slamming against the marble with a gut-wrenching crack.

  He didn’t move.

  “ZEVEN!” Rell yelled.

  He dashed to him. Neyxa and Thessia were still approaching, still under control—

  Ko Mala roared. Light erupted from his palms.

  He slammed both into their backs, a pulse of blessed magic igniting across their bodies.

  They dropped. Eyes wide. Spells shattered.

  But it was too late.

  Rell knelt beside Zeven.

  No pulse.

  No breath.

  His face—finally at peace.

  “Didn’t… even say thank you…”

  Rell closed Zeven’s eyes.

  Behind him, Neyxa sat up, groggy. Thessia blinked rapidly, trying to remember where she was.

  Ko Mala lowered his hands, breath heavy.

  No one spoke.

  No one needed to.

  The silence said enough.