He wrenched his hand free.
Her intestines spilled onto the broken ground, glistening in the dim light, steaming in the cold night air. She collapsed to her knees, blood pooling, her face locked between rage, despair and sorrow.
"No... I... I was supposed to... be your forever..."
Her last scream tore through the battlefield, a curse as much as a cry. Then silence. Her body slumped forward, lifeless.
Lucian stood over her corpse, chest rising and falling slowly, but his face was unreadable, neither sorrow nor triumph, only an abyssal calm.
Then his head turned, eyes snapping toward the clash where Allison still fought the silver-eyed man, her flame and his shadows tearing the night into halves of light and darkness.
The clash of Allison's flaming sword against the silver-eyed man's blade sent sparks spiraling into the night like falling stars. Their duel had drawn the battlefield's gaze, fire and void slashing through the ruins, every strike a collision of worlds.
The man fought with chilling precision. His movements carried no wasted effort, each lunge a predator's intent, each block a calculated dismantling of her strikes. His unreadable eyes reflecting the fire that tried to consume him.
Allison's breaths came heavy, yet she refused to retreat. Her pendant seared at her neck, thrumming like a second heart.
"You burn brightly," he murmured in that strange, velvety tone, their blades locked once more. Sparks hissed between them. "But remember what I said, every flame extinguishes ."
"Then choke on my ashes," Allison snapped, twisting her wrist and sending her flaming edge sliding down the length of his blade. The strike exploded into a crescent of fire that split the ground open.
The silver-eyed man stepped back, coat fluttering as the flames licked at his boots. He didn't stumble. He never would succumb to a girl. His presence was a weight pressing against her chest.
But Allison's willpower refused to bow. The earth cracked beneath her feet, molten veins surging upward, recognizing her as its rightful heir.
She struck again, faster, sharper, her sword a streak of fire through the night. He parried, but this time the force drove him back, boot heels gouging lines in the shattered ground.
From the battlefield's edge, Alexa descended like a storm's fury incarnate. Her silken robes snapped around her, words forming with each motion of her arms. She twisted her wrists, and the air screamed into invisible blades that carved through the mass of ghouls swarming toward her.
They shrieked as torn flesh and shattered bones littered the soil. Blood sprayed in dark arcs. Alexa landed with the grace of a dancer, strands of her hair plastered to her cheek.
She muttered, lifting her hand as the wind curled obediently at her fingertips. "Let me wash you if your impurities."
With a flick, a tornado erupted, shredding another dozen ghouls into fragments that rained upon the battlefield.
Allison pressed forward, flame trailing behind her like a comet. The silver-eyed man twisted, blade catching the light as he tried to counter, but she pushed harder. Sparks erupted. For the first time, his steps faltered.
Her flame surged higher, a feral roar filling the place. The pendant at her neck cracked further, the ember within blazing until the entire chamber glowed with the memory of fire.
With one decisive strike, Allison's sword sheared through his guard, slamming into his chest. He staggered, coughing dark blood, though his expression remained chillingly calm.
But before he could vanish into shadow again, Alexa winds encircled him, slicing into his flesh, holding him in place. Roots burst from the ground, Yevana's work from afar, binding his wrists and ankles in chains.
The silver-eyed man finally grimaced as he was pinned. For the first time, he spoke not in arrogance but in acknowledgment.
"So," he whispered, silver gaze locking on Allison. "The Flame chose you after all."
Allison pointed her sword at his throat, fury and flame in her eyes. "You'll tell me everything—what you want, before I decide whether to let you live."
His lips curved faintly, as if her rage entertained him. But his silence held.
He was theirs now—captured, a prisoner in chains of root and storm.
Not far away, Yevana's duel raged with a fury all its own.
The earth bent beneath her call. Grass thickened into spears, vines whipped from the soil, thorns coiled like serpents.
Elarian only smiled through it.
Her vines coiled his wrists again, digging deep enough to draw blood. Her thorn cage rattled as she tightened her fists. "You monster," she hissed, voice raw with a pain.
Elarian tilted his head, silver hair falling into his pale face, smirk untouched even as blood streaked his arms.
Yevana snarled, twisting her palms. The roots jerked, pulling tighter, cutting into muscle.
His chuckle was low, bitter. It slithered beneath her skin. "Do you remember something, Yevana? How you looked at me once with love? I miss that more than this."
She flinched despite herself. Her vines quivered. Rage burned through her chest, but his words found cracks in her armor.
She wanted to scream. To deny it. To kill him here and now.
But Elarian only leaned forward against her chains, shadows and frost gathering at his fingertips, his lips curved in something cruel and intimate.
"That love looks beautiful on you," he whispered. "It always did."
And then, before she could react, before her vines could tighten into the killing blow—he moved. Shadows wrapped him, frost shattering her hold on him.
In that final instant before retreat, he stepped close, too close, his lips brushing against hers in a stolen kiss.
Her heart beat faster. Her chest tightened. For one flicker of eternity, she froze.
Then he was gone, dissolved into darkness, leaving her breathless, trembling, lips tingling with a touch she despised.
Her fists curled. "Never again," she whispered, shaking. But in her chest, her heart beat traitorously fast. She sank to her knees, breathing hard, vines retreating back into the blood-soaked soil. Her lips still stung from that unwanted kiss, shame and fury colliding in her chest. She remembered him being her life, he was playful but his bloodlust was much. She had many questions that needed answer? Will he change for her sake?
-----
Beatrice blade dripped with ghouls blood. Her cold eyes lingered on the crumpled bodies everywhere, then lifted across the chaos to Ren.
His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, but his gaze was steady.