Gravel dug into Sylvantherion's kneecaps. Sharp. Unforgiving.
The physical pain was nothing compared to the noise in his skull. Five distinct lives screamed for dominance inside his mind. The Water Elder's icy detachment clashed with the Fire Elder's incinerating rage. Alien memories overlaid his vision, turning the scorched arena into a montage of betrayal and slaughter.
He heaved. A sob ripped from his throat, ragged and wet.
It was too heavy.
"You murderer!"
The shout pierced the cacophony.
Boots scraped against the ground. Fast and desperate.
Sylvantherion did not rise. He didn't even lift his hands.
A shadow fell over him. The air hissed, displaced by steel.
The sound was dull. Muffled.
The blade stopped abruptly. It hovered an inch from Sylvantherion's shoulder, arrested by a shimmering, translucent film.
Vnnnn.
The golden aura hummed. The automatic defense of an Ancient. It refused to let a lesser weapon touch his skin.
Sylvantherion slowly lifted his head.
The young elf warrior stood over him. His chest heaved beneath cracked armor. His arms shook violently as he pushed against the invisible wall, veins bulging in his neck. He was putting his entire weight behind the kill, but the magic would not yield.
Panic flared in the warrior's eyes. He looked at Sylvantherion not as a leader, but as a god that refused to bleed. And a monster to slaughter.
Sylvantherion exhaled.
He closed his eyes and cut the flow of mana to his skin.
The barrier shattered.
Without the resistance, the warrior's momentum carried through instantly.
Shhhk!
Cold steel parted flesh.
The blade sliced deep into Sylvantherion's back. Muscle severed with a wet tear. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs.
His eyes went wide. His jaw steeled, grinding teeth together to imprison a scream.
"Kill him!" someone shrieked.
An arrow slammed into his right thigh. The shaft vibrated, sending jolts of agony up his leg.
Fwoosh!
Heat engulfed his head. A fireball struck his temple, burned his hair and blistered his face.
Sylvantherion slumped.
A boot slammed into his ribs.
Crack!
Bone gave way.
He coughed. Thick, red blood splattered onto the dust.
The blows rained down. Fists. Stones. Hilts. It went on and on. A rhythmic dismantling of a legend.
Yet, he laid still.
His eyes remained open. Unblinking. Fixed on the lifeless body of the Queen and the grieving daughter holding her.
This is my penance.
Then, the air burned.
Roar!
A wall of fire erupted around him.
It spiraled upward, a tornado of crimson flames. The heat was intense, instantly searing the moisture from the air and forcing the attackers back.
Sylvantherion smelled the acrid scent of his own burnt skin.
He slowly lifted his gaze toward the source of the heat.
"What is the meaning of this, Lady Freya?!" a voice bellowed from the crowd.
An elf clad in bright red robes stood near the perimeter. She rose from a crouch, her hands wreathed in flame. Her eyes glistened, but they held a fierce, terrifying light.
"Feeble-minded fools," she choked out.
She took a step forward. The fire around Sylvantherion roared higher, a protective cage.
"Do you not see?" she sobbed. "You know nothing!"
Before she could finish, the air around Sylvantherion convulsed.
Vwraoom!
Magic flared from Sylvantherion's broken body.
A violent expulsion of mana that had no direction.
The shockwave slammed into the mob. Elves were thrown backward, their heels skidding on the dirt. Weapons were ripped from their grips.
Clang!
Swords and spears bounced across the ground.
Leo moved instantly.
He launched himself in front of Amanda and Seraphina. His boots dug into the ground as he crossed his arms, shielding them from the surge of wind and debris.
The dust settled.
Leo lowered his arms. His gaze locked onto Sylvantherion.
"What are you planning to do?" Leo shouted.
Shadows twisted on Leo's back.
Black appendages erupted from his spine. They lashed out, tearing across the distance toward Sylvantherion like striking vipers.
Sylvantherion watched them come.
He didn't move.
The tendrils crossed the layers of magic.
Hiss!
Gone. Instantly evaporated.
Arms length away from Sylvantherion's body, the black limbs simply dissolved into mist, unable to touch the chaotic storm swirling around him.
The air above Sylvantherion thickened.
Motes of light coalesced, spiraling into dense, vibrating spheres of pure mana. They hovered like judging eyes.
Then, they shifted.
Shing.
The spheres elongated. The soft curves sharpened into lethal points. Dozens of magical spears materialized, their tips glowing with a blinding intensity.
Angled downward. Directly at Sylvantherion.
The heat radiating from them scorched the air above him.
"I was not supposed to be here," Sylvantherion rasped. His voice was hollow, barely carrying over the hum of the magic.
He looked down at his trembling hands. The hands that had just reabsorbed the architects of their ruin.
"I betrayed my own kin," he continued. "And strayed from the path of an elder."
His gaze drifted past the flames, past Leo, landing on the crimson hair of the fallen Queen.
"And I purposefully took the life of my own daughter."
The admission hung in the air. He trembled.
Movement caught his eye.
Amanda shifted. She gently lowered Seraphina's upper body to the ground. Her movements were slow, as if putting a child to sleep.
She stood up.
Sylvantherion felt his heart stutter. The resemblance was painful. But he could not look away.
"The corruption of the Elders..." Sylvantherion's voice trembled. "It stops in me."
The air pressure dropped.
The magic around him surged. The spears vibrated, eager to fulfill their purpose.
Sylvantherion slowly closed his eyes.
He accepted the dark.
End it.
Gravity shifted. The spears began their descent.
"Amanda."
A whisper cut through the roar of mana. It was Leo.
Crack!
Instantly, the pressure vanished.
The heat died. The humming silenced.
Sylvantherion's eyes snapped open.
The spears were gone. Blown out of existence. Erased without a trace.
Sylvantherion gasped. He took a stumbling step back, his boot heel catching on a loose stone. He looked up, confusion warring with his resolve.
Amanda was moving.
She walked past Leo. Her hand brushed his shoulder—a gentle, grounding touch—before she stepped into the open space between the warrior and the Ancient.
The air around her was still vibrating, distorting the light like a dying heat haze. Faint, crimson sparks danced along her fingertips before fading into the wind.
Her eyes were locked on Sylvantherion.
"I won't let you have it your way..." she said.
Her voice was quiet. But her fiery eyes said it all.
"Not this time."