The pill had taken effect.
"No… no, not you too…" Lefahne whispered in horror.
Lyra lunged.
Steel shrieked through the air as her elbow-blade whistled toward Lefahne's neck, just a hair's breadth away from cleaving her head from her shoulder.
"Get back!" Zurrel roared, grabbing and pulling his wife into a roll.
The missed strike buried itself into the wooden floorboards, carving a trench with ease. Then the nun screeched, spinning and flinging bladed arcs of wind from her arms.
The apothecary was torn apart—shelves, books, plants—all shredded in a whirlwind of destruction.
Zurrel threw up another vine wall, sweat dripping from his chin. The barrier shuddered and cracked as the blades slammed into it like storm-hurled axes.
"We won't last like this!" He gasped.
"I can still—!" Lefahne started.
Suddenly, the door at the back of the corridor flung open. Tiny, frantic footsteps pounded toward them. A high-pitched voice cried out in dread.
"Mom! Dad!"
"Silvie—NO!!" Zurrel and Lefahne shouted in unison.
The girl's gaze froze as she rounded the corner—only to witness the unimaginable.
Cadane had looped around, taking advantage of the window of distraction. From behind, his lance-arm plunged through Zurrel's back, the tip bursting from his abdomen and impaling Lefahne's chest as well.
Their bodies arched in agony.
Blood spilled.
Time slowed.
Silvestia screamed.
The sound tore from her throat, filled with horror as she flung herself across the bloodied floor toward her parents. Her knees slammed against the plywood as she reached out, hands trembling, eyes wide and disbelieving.
"No… no, please…!"
Her fingers gripped Zurrel's shoulder, then Lefahne's bloodied hand, as if she could pull them back from the brink through sheer will alone. Her breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, her lungs on the verge of collapsing.
"I'm sorry," she cried, the words tumbling out. "I didn't mean to fall asleep—I tried—I really tried—I should've told you everything sooner—none of this would've happened if I had just said something—!"
Behind her, a low voice cut through her sobs like a knife. "Well, well… just the brat I wanted to see."
Silvestia's tear-streaked face lifted slowly. Her red-rimmed eyes glared at him, filled with loathing. "You… monsters! You'll pay dearly for this!"
Lugene stepped forward with a mocking pout. "Oh, sweetie. You really thought you'd have a chance to turn us in, didn't you?"
Her expression twisted into something far crueler. "We were counting on that. You couldn't have known, but we had eyes on every outpost. Every gate, every corridor. If you or your parents had made even one move toward reporting us, you would've been dead before you opened your mouth."
Rue added casually, "So, you see? Holding back was the smartest thing you've ever done. Not that it matters."
Silvestia's lips trembled, her heart plummeting. Even if she'd told them. Even if they'd tried to get help or run, they still would've been alone—cornered, hunted.
A soft, choked voice broke the silence.
"Zurrel…" Lefahne's eyes fluttered open. Her hand moved weakly across the blood-soaked floor, reaching for her husband. "We… have to save her… our little girl…"
Zurrel turned his head with effort, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. Their gazes met—something wordless passed between them.
Then, with a flick of her wrist, Lefahne whispered an incantation. A pale shimmer of magic rippled from her fingertips and lanced across the room, striking Cadane in the chest.
The monk's body jerked.
The debuff Bleed took hold immediately. Wounds that had barely sealed ripped open once more. Black-red blood surged from his mouth, ears, and eyes. He staggered, let out a gurgled groan, and dropped. He convulsed violently, screeching as his insides tore apart.
His eyes rolled back.
Then he stilled.
Zurrel took in a shuddering breath. With the last of his strength, he summoned a seed and flicked it toward Lyra.
It struck her forehead.
Instantly, the seed sprouted fine roots that burrowed under her skin. They wrapped around her mana core like a noose, draining her energy with alarming speed. Then, using her own power to mold a bomb, it exploded in a burst of emerald flame. Lyra didn't even scream. Her body collapsed in silence, scorched and motionless.
Lefahne and Zurrel stiffened. In a cruel twist of fate, their lofty ambitions had taken the lives of their friends—and now it was coming for their daughter too. After all they had endured, after finally finding peace and love, was this really how it would all end?
Silvestia wailed, her voice cracking in anguish. "No—no, please don't leave me!" she sobbed, clutching her parents' hands. "I can't—I don't want to be alone!"
"Silvie…"
"I'm sorry I always wander off," she cried. "I'm sorry for being so stubborn. I'll listen from now on, so please…"
Zurrel's bloodied hand touched her cheek gently. "You're strong enough, Silvie. You always have been."
Lefahne's fingers brushed the girl's hair. "We love you, sweetheart… more than life itself."
"You're… our greatest gift," Zurrel whispered. "Promise us… you must live. Continue moving forward."
"Go," Lefahne breathed softly, her smile faint. "Find Fay. She's… stronger than she knows."
Their lips pressed to her forehead one final time—Zurrel's warm with pride, Lefahne's trembling with love.
It was quiet.
Warm.
Fleeting.
And then they were gone.
The light in their eyes faded. Their bodies stilled.
Silvestia didn't scream. She couldn't.
Only a faint, broken sound escaped her lips.
Rue exhaled, evidently annoyed. "Finally. A shame we lost both homunculi though."
"It's always possible to make more," Lugene reassured, plucking a splinter off her dress. "I'm just happy those nuisances have finally been dealt with."
Silvestia's eyes flashed with fury. "You—filthy, rotten—! You used to eat at our table! They trusted you! They treated you like family!"
Rue shrugged. "And they made damn fine elixirs while they were at it. Too bad they got greedy with their morals."
Silvestia snarled.
"They were obstacles," Lugene added coldly. "And now they're fertilizer."
Just then, the Dravenharts' illusion spells dissolved. Lefahne's dryad form was revealed—horns protruded from her head, mint-green hair woven with flowers and vines. Zurrel's appearance shifted too—his features now undeniably elven, snow-white hair tangled with roots, and arcane marks glowing faintly along his arms.
Lugene reeled back. "Ohya?! Dryad…? And he's a druid? That explains everything."
Rue's eyes widened, then narrowed with realization. "No wonder their potions were so damn effective. They were cheating. They had mother nature practically whispering in their ear."
Suddenly, both their gazes turned slowly to Silvestia.
Lugene's lips curled into a cruel smile. "And you… you must be something very special."
"A fae hybrid," Rue said with growing excitement. "Do you have any idea what a bloodline like that goes for in the right market?"
"I thought we'd have to kill her," Lugene mused. "But this changes everything."
"She'll make us rich."
Silvestia's breath caught in her throat. Her hand darted toward a broken table leg where a small carving knife lay hidden beneath splinters.
Then, without thinking, she lunged forward and swung. "Don't you dare touch me!" She screamed, slashing wildly. "I'll kill you!"
Rue's fist slammed into her stomach.
The air left her lungs. She crumpled over his arm, eyes wide, mouth open but breathless. Then darkness swallowed her whole.
When she hit the floor, the stone in her necklace cracked. A pulse of light burst forth, engulfing Silvestia in its glow. Her iron-gray hair shifted to a seafoam green, her periwinkle eyes turned olive-yellow, and her ears grew long and pointed.
"Just like I thought," Rue muttered. "She's fae, alright." He hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack. "We'll make enough coin to rival the height of the Valendor Mountains!"
Lugene rummaged through the scattered debris, eventually pulling out two vials of a shimmering pink liquid, a work journal, and several scrolls filled with notes.
"Oh, this is gold," she whispered. "Elixirs five times stronger than anything else on the market. This more than makes up for our losses and the emotional distress."
Without another glance at the corpses or carnage—the aftermath of their betrayal—the Kaelmonts stepped over the blood and broken glass and promptly departed.
But they weren't alone.
Up in the shadows, crouched in the rafters, a pair of olive-green eyes burned with rage. Midnight's claws dug into the beam, tail flicking in anguish.
The Djinn couldn't interfere, but he had seen everything. And though Daisuke was still locked in the depths of the dungeon, the feline would remember.
Every word.
Every face.
Because when vengeance came, it would come for them all. And it would be merciless.