Zuleika sat at the edge of the firelight, restless, her fingers tapping against her knee. That was when she heard it—two knights whispering nearby, voices low but clear enough to pierce her ears.
"They say Feltogora has fallen."
"Aye… not just that. Word is… the Revazkerio line is gone. All of them. Dead."
"…Impossible. The Revazkerio can't—"
"It's true. I heard it from the scouts who came from the eastern isles. The throne hall ran with blood. The Emperor, his sons… every last one of them."
Zuleika froze. Her spoon clattered from her hand, spilling stew into the dirt. Her heart slammed in her chest so hard it hurt, her breath catching like a blade at her throat.
"Dead…?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her whole body began to shake, her lips numb. "The Revazkerio…?"
Before anyone could notice, she stumbled to her feet and ran, her boots crunching against the fallen leaves as she pushed herself deep into the forest. The night swallowed her whole, branches clawing at her as though to keep her from fleeing the truth.
She stopped only when her legs gave out, clutching her chest as the air seemed to vanish from her lungs. Her knees buckled into the cold earth.
"No… no, no, no…" she gasped, raking at her hair with trembling fingers. "This can't be true—! Aquila…"
A name broke out of her in a strangled sob, as though it alone carried the last thread of her hope.
"Aquila… what about Aquila?"
Her vision blurred, tears spilling hot down her cheeks. The thought of her dearest...—her love—buried among corpses, lifeless and cold, tore through her like a knife. The weight of it crushed her chest, until every breath was agony. She clawed at the dirt, the forest spinning around her.
"No… please… not her… anyone but her…" she sobbed, rocking back and forth, trying to steady herself but only spiraling deeper into despair.
The trees were silent, the stars above unfeeling. And in that silence, Zuleika broke apart, her voice shattering against the dark.
Her body had collapsed in the forest, eyes swollen from tears, heart hollow and aching. When exhaustion finally dragged her under, Zuleika's last words lingered like a ghost in the night.
"I haven't even… told her…"
Her lips trembled, and then silence claimed her.
The dawn did not come gently.
It ripped her awake with the clash of steel, the thundering of hooves, and the guttural cries of men dying. Smoke stung her eyes before she even rose to her feet. Zuleika blinked, heart pounding as she scrambled upright.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of fire. When she broke through the treeline, her eyes widened in horror—Tartagalian ships had pushed all the way to the shore. Black banners snapped in the sea wind as their soldiers poured onto the sand, cutting down the first line of Nexus knights like beasts unleashed.
Blood painted the tide crimson. Men groaned and writhed in agony, their cries rising above the sound of steel grinding against steel. Bodies already littered the coast, the foam of the waves lapping hungrily at their lifeless forms.
Above the din, Stella's commanding voice cut sharp across the chaos from her post on the cliffs.
"Fall back! FALL BACK!" Her hand pointed toward the inner gates. "Retreat to the walls! Form ranks inside the kingdom!"
The surviving Nexus knights staggered to obey, dragging their wounded comrades with them. Some stumbled, barely holding their swords up as Tartagalian soldiers pressed forward with vicious roars.
Zuleika's breath caught in her throat. She could not freeze again. Not here. Not now.
Her blade hissed free from its sheath, and she charged forward, cutting down the first soldier who crossed her path. Blood sprayed across her armor as she twisted, meeting another strike with a sharp parry, then drove her sword straight through her enemy's chest.
"Get up!" she shouted hoarsely, her voice carrying across the sand. "Help each other! If you can walk, drag the wounded with you!"
Two knights, dazed and bleeding, looked at her as if the fog in their minds cleared at her command. They grabbed the nearest groaning comrade and began hauling him back toward the retreating line.
Another soldier lunged for her, his ax raised high. Zuleika ducked beneath the swing and slit his throat clean, her chest heaving as the hot spray marked her face.
"You're not dying here!" she barked at the younger knights scrambling past her. "Move! MOVE!"
Her blade became a blur, cutting through Tartagalian steel, her body driven by desperation and fury. For every enemy she felled, another rose in his place, but still she fought, forcing a gap wide enough for more Nexus knights to retreat behind her.
On the cliffs above, Stella's eyes locked on her sister. Her jaw tightened, but she did not call Zuleika back. Instead, she raised her hand and roared another order to the archers lining the walls.
"Loose! Send them back to the sea!"
Arrows rained from above, hissing death as they pierced the invaders pressing against Zuleika's line. The Tartagalians faltered, shielding themselves, giving Nexus just enough breathing space to regroup behind the fortifications.
The morning had begun in blood. And already, Nexus was being pushed to the edge.
The horn's deep cry rolled across the battlefield, its echo nearly drowned by the crashing waves and the roar of enemy soldiers.
Zuleika's arms trembled, her blade heavy with blood and exhaustion. She turned, her eyes widening as five more Tartagalian fleets loomed against the horizon—towering ships bristling with soldiers, their banners a sea of crimson and black.
"What the fuck…" she hissed, breath ragged as she pulled her sword free from another man's chest. Her boots slid against the blood-slick sand. Her lungs burned, but she forced herself upright, glaring at the endless tide spilling toward her.
Her gaze swept the battlefield. Too many Nexus knights still lay scattered along the shore, crawling, bleeding, dragging themselves toward safety. Some barely clung to life, others already unmoving.
Zuleika's jaw tightened until her teeth ached. She glanced back at the enemy, already leaping from their ships, water spraying as their armored boots hit the waves. The ground shook under the thunder of their march.
"FALL BACK! EVERYBODY FALL BACK!" Stella's voice carried sharp and unrelenting from the cliffs, her command cutting like a blade. The horns blared again, urgent and desperate.
"Archers!" Stella's arm slashed through the air. "Support the wounded! Hold the line until the last man retreats!"
Arrows whistled down from the walls, piercing the vanguard of Tartagalian soldiers. Some fell, screaming, but the waves swallowed them and more came surging forward.
Zuleika's chest heaved. Her grip on the sword trembled as she watched her men stumble, limping, dragging their comrades. Every instinct screamed to fall back with them, to listen to Stella.
But then her eyes landed on a knight struggling to carry two wounded men at once, his armor dented, his face pale. Another knight tried to shield him but was cut down, blood spraying across the sand.
"No…" Zuleika whispered. Then her voice ripped raw through the chaos.
"MOVE!" She charged forward, slamming into an enemy soldier, her blade cleaving through his side. "GO! I'll hold them back!"
Her body became a wall between the enemy and her retreating soldiers. She swung, struck, parried, her blade ringing against axes and spears. Every strike she made was wild with desperation, her bloodied hair sticking to her face as her breath tore from her throat.
"GET THEM OUT OF HERE!" she screamed again, forcing herself deeper into the fray, cutting down anyone who tried to advance past her.
The Tartagalians snarled, circling her, recognizing her as a commander. Their eyes gleamed with bloodlust. But Zuleika did not waver. She was fire in flesh, raw determination and grief driving her limbs where strength alone would have failed.
Behind her, more knights managed to retreat through the gates. The wounded were dragged inside, covered in blood and dust. The horn blew again, its cry signaling the fallback.
And still Zuleika fought, her body screaming at her to stop.
"ZULEIKA, FALL BACK NOW!" Stella's voice cracked like a whip across the battlefield, sharp and desperate.
Zuleika wanted to obey—but she couldn't. The sea of Tartagalian steel pressed in around her, cutting off every escape. Her sword whirled in her hand, glowing faintly blue as the sea's magic pulsed through her veins. Each slash sang with desperation, arcs of water spraying from her blade as she cut down another soldier, then another.
But for every man that fell, five more came.
"Damn it…" Her breath burned in her throat. Sweat stung her eyes.
A flash of steel came too fast—one knife grazed her shoulder. Pain seared through her, and blood trickled down her arm. Zuleika snarled, twisted, and rammed her sword through the man's chest.
"FUCK!" she spat, her knees trembling, body begging to collapse.
Then, suddenly—light.
A white butterfly fluttered before her, its glow strange against the smoke and carnage. For a moment, time seemed to still. The Tartagalians hesitated, their blades lowering slightly, confused by the delicate shimmer in the air.
"Huh…?" Zuleika whispered, frozen as the butterfly drifted toward the enemy line.
Then—
BOOM.
A column of radiant light exploded where the butterfly landed, blasting soldiers off their feet. The shockwave sent sand and blood spraying high, screams tearing through the haze.
Zuleika's eyes widened. Her chest seized. That magic… that butterfly…
She turned, and through the smoke she saw them—knights in silver and amber, bearing the crest of Peris. Their blades glinted with runes as they stormed down the coast. And at the far back, radiant and unshaken, stood Aquila.
Her hair whipped like fire in the sea wind, her hands raised, summoning more of those luminous butterflies that burst into dazzling eruptions upon reaching the enemy. Her gaze burned with resolve.
Zuleika's heart slammed against her ribs. "Aquila…"
From the walls above, Stella froze at the sight—just for a heartbeat. Then she straightened, composure snapping back like armor.
"ZULEIKA, RETREAT NOW!" Stella barked.
Zuleika blinked, breath hitching, then nodded furiously. Her legs moved before her thoughts could catch up. She cut down two more Tartagalians and sprinted, her lungs screaming, toward the Nexus walls.
Behind her, the battlefield churned with chaos—Nexus pulling back, Peris knights surging forward, Tartagalians roaring in defiance.
But not far off, aboard one of the enemy's great black-iron ships, the scarred woman stood with arms crossed. Navea's eyes followed the retreating figures, her scarred lips twitching into something like amusement.
"They're retreating to their Kingdom, Commander," a soldier reported, bowing quickly.
Navea did not move, her voice low and cutting. "Let them be."
She turned toward the sea, the glow of fire and smoke dancing across her scarred features. "Tell our Lord…" she said slowly, "…that we have captured the Nexus shore."
The soldier bowed, then cupped his hands and shouted the command. Across the battlefield, Tartagalian horns blared, signaling their first true foothold.
The soldiers cheered in their guttural tongue, raising bloodied weapons high, the coast now theirs.
At the far end of the vast sea, where the horizon blurred into smoke and fire, a massive fleet loomed—its dark sails spread wide like the wings of vultures. The sea groaned under their weight, a hundred warships swaying in cruel unison.
At the flagship's deck, a young man draped in crimson robes leaned lazily against his throne-like seat. Gold ornaments gleamed in his hair, and his fingers toyed idly with a jeweled goblet of wine. His face, too perfect, carried an unsettling sharpness—handsome, yet unnatural, as though carved to deceive.
"Your Imperial Majesty," a soldier knelt before him, head bowed. "It seems… the Empire of Peris has lent their strength to the Kingdom of Nexus."
The Emperor swirled the goblet in his hand, the crimson liquid catching the last of the daylight. His lips curled into a half-smile.
"It doesn't matter," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. "Peris. Nexus. They are all the same—insignificant insects crawling beneath my feet."
He leaned back, his gaze drifting over the burning shore. Yet, for all his words, his eyes lingered—not on the armies, not on the battle, but on the walls of Nexus itself.
"Ah…" His voice dropped, soft, almost tender. "…my sweetest Stella."
The way he whispered her name was wrong. Not with love, not with warmth, but with an obsession that coiled like chains. His tongue savored her name like a forbidden fruit, his smile widening into something feral.
"She shines so brightly there, standing tall against me… thinking herself untouchable." His eyes darkened, glinting with hunger. "All the better. The harder the chase, the sweeter the capture."
His hand clenched around the goblet, cracking the crystal stem. Red wine spilled across his palm, dripping down like blood.
He did not flinch.
"Prepare the fleet," he said coldly, his voice shifting back to command. "Let Nexus enjoy their moment of hope. Let Peris think their arrival means salvation. Soon enough, both shall kneel."
The soldier bowed deeper, voice trembling. "As you command, Your Imperial Majesty."
But the Emperor only leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his gaze never leaving Nexus.
"Soon, Stella…" he murmured, almost lovingly. "You will be mine."