ARTIZEA
"THERE ARE STILL A MILLION PROBABILITIES OF THIS GOING WRONG—" Eugene pressed, while holding a firm grip on his book.
The wind howled through the crumbled arena as Artizea prepared to take the most daring leap of her life. She turned to her sister, offering a soft smile. "This is my fight, Elaine. Stay here and protect our home. If I fail… someone must remain to hold the kingdom together." She looks at Arthur.
Arthur's brows furrowed, his blue eyes brimming with concern. "I am not wearing that shit—"
"Arthur—" Artizea groaned.
"You know the crown is not for me."
"Nor I!" Eugene added, "Elaine is better off with it."
"Agreed," they both said.
"Hey—" Elaine shouted.
"This is what I have to do to make you two stop fighting," she asked calmly, though frustration in his tone was unmistakable.
"Is it worth it, Artizea?" Arthur finally asked, "Enough to risk everything—your life, your crown, our family? Do you love him that much?"
She hesitated for a moment, "Yes…" she replied, "If it were not for him, I would have been lost. We would have lost. He fought beside us even when he knew of the consequences for him. How can I sit by and watch him pay that price alone?"
Arthur exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Love doesn't win wars, Artizea. And it damn sure well does not bring back the dead."
"No, it doesn't," she agreed, her tone firm. "But it gives you a reason to fight and win, it gave our parents a reason, it gave us a reason, this is my reason, I need you to respect that, Arthur."
Arthur sighed, "Just don't go getting yourself killed," he said, "No one else can pull off that chunk of metal with any good hair day," he said while flicking his hair.
That made her chuckle, then she smiled at him, and he returned one. The tension between them hung heavy, broken only when Eugene cleared his throat, still hunched over his glowing spell book.
"Arthur is an idiot. It is to be expected…" he muttered, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. He looked up at Artizea, his expression softening.
Artizea blinked, then smiled. "What you did out there…It was truly a light show."
"Yeah…" Eugene said, closing his book with a snap. "I would not have done without Rhys."
A small laugh escaped Artizea, but her smile faded quickly. She reached out, placing a hand on Eugene's shoulder. "I will get him back."
Eugene's cheeks flushed slightly. "Let us not make this a big thing, alright?"
Elaine stepped closer, clutching her hands to her chest. "You speak as if you won't be back," she said, her voice trembling.
Artizea reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Elaine's tear-streaked face. "You are stronger than you think, Elaine, and you have Arthur to train—"
Arthur snapped his head, "Train—?"
"—Andd you have Eugene to keep you entertained. You do not need me to hold your hand. Not anymore."
Elaine interrupted gently, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Enough of whatever this is, just come back."
Arthur stayed still, crossed as he stared at the glowing portal. "For all our sake, you'd better," he muttered. "The kingdom will fall apart without you… literally."
Artizea smiled softly, the way she used to when they were children. She quickly pulled Arthur into a fierce embrace. "You have nothing to make up for, brother. Do you hear me— Nothing—"
Arthur's breath hitched. His body started to tremble as he clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder. The tears he had been fighting for years, silently broke free. Artizea held him tighter, grounding him, her hand rubbing slow circles across his back.
Eugene paused at the sight of the siblings locked together. "Did I… miss something?"
"No—" they said in unison, not letting go.
Arthur kept his face hidden as Artizea kept her arm around him.
Eugene, sensing the weight in the air, simply nodded and sat beside them—close, but not asking anything more. He looked back at his book, sweat beginning to form on beading on his brow. "I can hold the portal open, but not for long. I will give it everything I have." He looked up at her, his expression both proud and resigned. "Heaven doesn't forgive trespassers, no matter who their father is."
Artizea nodded, finally letting go of Arthur. "Good thing I am not asking for their forgiveness."
Fin flew up, "It takes you close, but you will need to follow me the rest of the way. Heaven is not easy to reach. Only you can do this. The gates to heaven will not open for just anyone."
Artizea nodded, her expression resolute. She turned to her siblings, her voice softer now. "Thank you. For everything." She stepped to the edge of the balcony, then paused, her breathing sharp and quick. She looked down at her trembling hands, then at the sky. She took a step back, then leaped. She imagined the sea, Arthur's voice….She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes, focusing on the power deep within her, diving deep into the currents of her consciousness. She wasn't just reaching for her power, but for someone.
In the space between worlds, her consciousness formed—a realm of infinite starlight and swirling chaos. Artizea stood amidst the void, her breath hitching as a figure emerged from the shadows. The older Artizea exuded an aura of raw, untamed power. Her hair cascaded in waves of molten gold, her eyes glowing with the primordial light of a celestial. She was regal, fierce, and terrifyingly serene.
"I knew you'd be back," the older Artizea said, a smirk playing on her lips. "Here to rescue your midnight dove, I take it?"
Artizea's present self straightened, her jaw tight. "Will you help me?"
The older version tilted her head, feigning thought. "Let's see… Unleashing unbridled chaos? Tearing down celestial realms? Bringing heaven to its knees? How could I resist?"
Artizea frowned. "This is not a game. Rhys is—"
"I know," the older Artizea interrupted, her tone softening. "I am you, am I not?"
Artizea's present self clenched her fists, her mind racing. She swallowed hard, her voice trembling. "Can I berid of it?"
The older Artizea's smirk faded, replaced by a look of understanding. "Not without first dying," she answered outright. This is not about you, truly it never was—It is about the balance of the realms, about reclaiming what's been stolen from you. You have a choice, Artizea Pendragon: embrace who you are, or watch everything you love be destroyed by those who fear you."
Artizea closed her eyes. For years, she had fought to protect her family, her kingdom, and herself from herself. But now, she realized, the fight was so much bigger than she'd ever imagined. Her eyes snapped open, glowing with the same light as her older self. "Then let's bring heaven to its knees."
The older Artizea smiled, pride and determination shining in her gaze. "That's the spirit. Now, let me show you what it means to be a god."
Heat surged through her veins, and in an instant, her human vessel was consumed with flame. Golden replaced flesh.
and let her body shift into her dragon form. Scales shimmered under the starlight, her massive wings unfurling with a powerful beat. She roared while soaring upward.
The memories of Rhyssand's words echoed in her mind, "Whatever fate has in store, you still have a choice. Everyone has a choice."
Eugene stepped forward, raising his staff as he began the incantation. His voice echoed with power, the words ancient and commanding. The air around them shimmered as the magic took shape, forming a swirling vortex. The ground beneath them began to tremble as he muttered an incantation, his magic surging into the air. The energy crackled around him. He staggered slightly, the strain of the spell evident, but Arthur and Elaine held up strong; he breathed in, the exhaustion of the spell catching up with him.
The thought of interference was far from his mind; instead replaced with determination. They need me. He thought. With a final surge of magic, he stabilized a shimmering portal that began to take shape, its edges crackling with celestial light. The effort drew a cry from the young mage, but he held firm. Something within him was pounding—Ba dum ba dum Ba dum.
His soul was at his edge.
Artizea roared once more, then dove into the portal, disappearing in a flash of light.
Utterly drained, Eugene rasped, "It is done."
Elaine wiped a tear from her cheek.
"She'll make it," Arthur said. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "She has to. His gaze was still fixed on the fading glow of the portal.
RHYSSAND
The celestial court buzzed with tension, its gilded walls shimmering with divine light. Angels lined the grand chamber, their white wings unfurled, their expressions grim as they stared down at Rhyssand.
The chain that bound his wings was heavy, and that glowed with divine power. He walked the bridge above the void. Then he knelt in the center of the celestial court. The weight of them was suffocating, a reminder of the judgment that loomed above him. His golden eyes, dulled by exhaustion, stared blankly at the pristine marble floor as the council deliberated his fate.
He stood stoically on the platform suspended in the center of the court, surrounded by a vast, yawning void of sky—a gap no mortal or celestial could cross unaided. As the tension in the celestial court mounted, two figures among the gathered angels stood apart, their expressions charged with emotions that only deepened the drama of the moment.
Ishtar, radiant and commanding, sat on her throne among the council. Her eyes, so often filled with cold calculation, Beside her, leaning casually against one of the marble columns, stood Azreaphel, Rhyssand's former friend and now his bitter adversary. His shadowed wings stretched behind him, their dark edges a stark contrast to the purity of the court's light. A sly, mocking smile played on his lips as his gaze locked onto Rhyssand.
The High Arbiter's voice boomed across the chamber. "Rhyssand Rimat, you defied your purpose, betrayed your kind, and endangered the order of balance and creation. He must be punished," one of the elders declared, their voice cold and final. "It is stated in the first commands that a celestial who defies heaven cannot be allowed to live within its borders."
"And what of the girl?" another asked. "When is her excustion, that we were promised, moons ago?"
"If you ask me, perhaps It is time to end all the humans altogether," said another. "Ungrateful bastard, they are."
Rhyssand's hands curled into fists, the chains around his wrists rattling softly. He could not speak, could not protest—not with the enchantments silencing him.
"What if we erase his memories? He is our prince and heir after all; his power will only grow, even greater than the great king Marduk."
His gaze flickered briefly to the throne at the end of the chamber, where his mother, Ishtar, sat with an air of detached elegance. "We would be ridding ourselves of our greatest weapon." He said, turning to Ishtar, completely ignoring Demeter's presence.
"What say you, Your Magesity?"
Then she spoke."Do it." Her voice was soft but unyielding, cutting through the chamber like a blade.
The words hit Rhyssand harder than he would admit, his heart twisting in his chest. He shot his gaze up to his father. For a fleeting moment, he searched his face for some hint of hesitation, some glimmer of love. But there was nothing. He had made her choice. He was a weapon after all. Weapons don't have a voice.
As the council prepared to carry out the sentence, his mind was flooded with images. Memories of Artizea—her fiery eyes, her unrelenting spirit, the way she challenged him with every word and action. He saw the Pendragons, their unshakable bond and loyalty to one another. He even saw Fin, the ever-sassy bird who had been both a companion and a nuisance. They were his light in the darkness, the reason he had defied the heavens in the first place.
Artizea… he thought desperately, his body trembling as he tried to break free from the chains, but falling. I can't forget her. I won't.
But just as the spell began to take hold, a sound tore through the heavens. A roar so primal, the sound tore through the chamber, ancient and feral, that it froze the council in their seats. The room seemed to shake with the force of it, the sound reverberating in their very souls.
The older angels in the room paled. Memories of the stories passed down of Tiamat, the dragon goddess who had once rivaled their power, flashed through their minds.
For them, it was a roar that carried centuries of trauma, a reminder of the one being who had ever dared to challenge their supremacy.
Ishtar's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line as she rose from her seat. "No…" she whispered, the faintest hint of unease creeping into her tone.
Rhyssand's head snapped up. He recognized that roar anywhere. Whispers of "Tiamat" rippled through the room, but he knew the truth. This wasn't Tiamat…
It was her.
Above the celestial court, the skies darkened as a massive red dragon emerged from the clouds, her wings slicing through the air with terrifying grace.
She circled the chamber, her fiery eyes locked onto the scene below. Smoke curled from her nostrils as she let out another roar, this one even louder, shaking the very foundations of the divine realm.
Rhyssand's heart pounded in his chest as he watched her descend, her form landing with a thunderous crash that cracked the marble floor. "Tizea…" he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of relief, despite the chains binding him.
She towered over the council, her scales shimmering like molten fire, her presence commanding absolute attention. Angels who had once considered themselves invincible now cowered in her shadow. As the smoke cleared, her form began to shift. The massive dragon dissolved into glowing embers, shrinking until she stood before them in her human form. By the time her feet touched the edge of the court's floating platform, she had reverted to her human form. Her armor glinted like molten gold, her eyes blazing with determination.
The council watched, some incredulous, others afraid, as Artizea began to step forward. At first, they were certain she would fall into the void, but to their astonishment, the air beneath her feet shimmered. Golden steps materialized as she walked, as though the very realm remembered her.
Ishtar's perfectly poised demeanor wavered as she observed Artizea's grand entry, "Abomination…" she muttered under her breath, her fingers clenching the armrests of her seat.
The materialized steps beneath Artizea's feet were glowing like the golden threads of destiny itself. Every step she took radiated power, shaking the foundations of the court. The angels parted, their awe-stricken gazes locked on her. Even the most ancient among them dared not intervene. When she reached the platform, Artizea stood tall, her gaze locked on Rhyssand. The angels whispered louder now, their collective fear and reverence palpable.
"The prophecy…" one murmured again.
"Tiamat."
Her Gold-plated boots clinked softly against the cracked marble as she strode forward, her gaze fixed on the council as she took a protective stance in front of him. "Touch him—" she growled, her voice low and filled with menace, upon pointing her spear at its head, where the queen of the realm stood. "anddie."
TO BE CONTINUED
[VOLUME FOUR]
THE FATE OF WRATH AND FIRE