Barely five minutes had passed, yet to Elias it felt like an eternity. The room was suffocatingly silent—far too silent. Every breath sounded loud enough to expose them. Every shifting shadow felt like it carried a warning. The three of them sat tense, listening for the smallest disturbance downstairs.
Daren's hand never left the hilt of his sword. Lyra kept her broken-in bowstring between her fingers as if readying for a draw. Elias, however, felt his chest tighten more and more with each ticking second. He knew what was coming. He had lived it. He had died for it.
Then—
CRAAAAACK!
The door didn't swing open.
It exploded.
Wood shattered into splinters that flew through the room like shrapnel. Before Elias even processed what was happening, a figure had already lunged over the debris—fast, far too fast—and materialized right in front of Daren.
Veran.
His expression had twisted into something monstrous, lips curled upward in a jagged smile that looked wrong on a face that had once seemed gentle in the morning light.
"Did you really think," Veran hissed, voice trembling with an eerie mixture of excitement and fury, "that any of you could hide from me?"
Daren reacted instantly. In one motion, he slammed his palm downward, summoning a burst of wind. A violent gust struck Veran full on the chest, throwing him backward out of the broken doorway and into the hall.
Veran staggered but did not fall. He laughed—low, broken, unhinged.
"Ohh… so you're finally resisting," he sneered. "Good. GOOD. It's boring when prey simply kneels and waits to die."
His voice grew louder, more distorted.
"I'll enjoy killing all three of you tonight."
Daren stepped forward, sword reflecting the dim moonlight through the broken door frame.
"Veran," he said, voice steady despite his clenched jaw, "I don't know what you've done. I don't know who you are. But if you take one more step toward them—"
Veran cut him off with a bark of laughter.
"Spare me the heroic speeches. You think you can protect them? You can't even protect yourself."
Daren lunged.
Steel flashed. Wind roared. Sparks burst as Veran pulled out his twin daggers, twisting and deflecting the blade with insane precision. Their weapons clashed again and again, ringing through the hall like metal screams.
Lyra darted beside them, bow raised. Her fingers glowed red—flames gathering at her fingertips.
"Move, Daren!"
Daren shifted just enough for Lyra to let loose.
FWOOOOSH—
A fiery arrow cut through the air straight toward Veran's chest. But Veran spun, using the flat of his dagger to deflect the flaming shot, scattering embers across the hall.
"Tsk, predictable," he said sharply.
He dashed forward.
Lyra tried to draw another, but Veran was too fast. His blade slashed upward—
CRACK—
Her bow split cleanly in half.
Lyra gasped as the recoil cut across her hand, leaving a small but bleeding wound.
Her breath trembled.
"You—!"
"Lyra!" Daren warned.
But Veran wasn't even looking at her anymore. He turned—slowly, almost theatrically—toward Elias.
ELIAS FREEZES
Elias hadn't moved since the moment the door broke apart.
His body refused.
His hands were shaking uncontrollably. His knees felt weak. His mind… his mind wasn't in the present anymore. It was tumbling backward—into the dark, into the pain, into the memory of cold stone and a jeweled axe splitting through his skull.
His vision blurred as he watched Veran step toward Daren and Lyra earlier, but his brain connected it to the sight he had lived through:
—Veran's cold eyes staring him down.
—The terror when his legs stopped moving no matter how he begged them.
—The weightless moment right before impact.
—The crack of bone.
—The warm stream of blood sliding across his cheek.
—His final whisper: "Why… am I still dying… it hurts…"
His breath hitched.
He felt it again.
He felt everything again.
His stomach twisted. His lungs squeezed shut. The entire room seemed to tilt and spin.
He wanted to scream, to run, to fight, anything—
but not a single muscle obeyed.
He could only stand there, trembling violently, staring at Veran as if staring at a nightmare made flesh.
"Elias!" Lyra shouted from somewhere far away.
"Move! You have to move!"
But her voice sounded muffled, as though she were shouting from underwater.
In Elias's eyes, Veran wasn't the man holding daggers in front of Daren.
He was the one kneeling at the center of that horrific sacrificial array.
The one who killed Daren and Lyra.
The one who killed him.
And he was coming closer.
Daren, sensing the shift, swung again to keep Veran away from Elias.
But Veran simply flicked his wrist—
Three knives shot out of his sleeve at deadly speed.
Daren's eyes widened.
He had no time to dodge.
"Daren!!" Lyra screamed.
Instinct exploded out of Daren's body. His hand thrust forward, and a violent blast of wind spiraled out. The knives jerked off-course and clattered to the ground.
They landed only five centimeters from his face.
Daren swallowed hard.
Veran laughed again—slow, taunting, savoring the moment.
"Tiring, isn't it?" he said. "You can't keep this up for long."
And then—
He bolted for the door.
"Stop!" Daren yelled, lunging after him.
But Elias reacted before he even thought.
ELIAS CHASES
For the first time since the fight began, Elias's fear morphed—
from paralyzing terror…
into something hot, sharp, and furious.
He ran.
But adrenaline and panic made his feet clumsy.
His heel slipped.
His body lurched.
He tumbled forward—
BAM!
His chest slammed into the floor, pain exploding through his ribs.
But even through the agony, his hand shot out desperately.
And he grabbed Veran's ankle.
Veran's eyes widened as he stumbled, falling forward and crashing hard onto the floor with a grunt.
Elias scrambled to his feet, breath ragged and wild.
For a moment, he stood over Veran—looking down at him exactly like Veran had looked down at him in his previous death.
And something broke inside Elias.
His heartbeat thundered.
His eyes blurred with fear, hatred, horror—all twisted into one.
He saw Veran now not as the man he had met yesterday…
…but as the monster who killed him.
He felt the echoed agony of the jeweled axe again.
He saw Veran's face hovering over his dying body.
And now Veran was lying on the ground the same way Elias had fallen before.
His expression twisted into fear.
Fear.
The same fear Elias had felt.
For a moment, Elias froze again—his mind split between past and present.
Between victim and survivor.
Between terror… and vengeance.
But the hesitation cost him.
THE AXE RETURNS
Veran scrambled to his feet in one frantic motion and backed toward the hall.
His hand darted into his robe and pulled out the jeweled Dianol axe—the very same weapon Elias remembered cleaving his skull open.
"No—" Elias whispered, voice trembling.
Veran threw it.
The axe spun through the air, glimmering with deadly light—straight for Elias's forehead.
Time slowed.
Elias saw it coming.
He felt the ghost of the old pain rush back.
He knew exactly how it would feel to die again.
His body refused to move.
His mouth formed silent words—
"Not again—please—"
But the blow never came.
Because in the instant before impact—
CLANG!!
Daren appeared out of nowhere, sword raised, catching the axe with a force that jarred his entire arm. Sparks flew across the hall.
"ELIAS, MOVE!" Daren roared.
Before Veran could flee again, Daren charged and slammed the hilt of his sword into Veran's temple.
Veran collapsed instantly, unconscious.
The hall fell silent.
Only Elias's ragged breathing filled the space.