Nikola leaned over the hand railing of The Heart of Eternity, his chest swelling with relief and gratitude as the battle between Blake and the Champion finally concluded.

The Slaethians had been forced to pull back their airship amid the chaos, giving the beastkin precious moments to evacuate the catacombs.

Almost everyone had made it aboard… but a looming issue hung on the horizon.

In the distance, an armada of airships hovered—dark silhouettes waiting patiently, watching the clash between two monstrous forces before making their move.

It was oddly encouraging.

If one of those ships carried another Champion, they would've joined the fray by now instead of biding their time.

Still, once they lifted off, it was going to be a frantic race to reach the Darklands.

"That'll be the real battle," Nikola muttered.

"Any sign of her?"

Queen Rhyessa stepped up beside him, eyes scanning the mist.

"No, but things have calmed down. It feels like it's over," Nikola said with a small smile. "And I just know she won."

"How do you know?"

The gnome snickered. "Because nobody with that much plot armor ever loses."

The two of them turned as a figure emerged from the mist.

At first, it looked like a man taking a bite out of an apple—until they saw the razor-like needle teeth and realized he was chewing on something far more gruesome.

A heart.

"Who the hell—?" Nikola breathed in disgust.

"Look."

Rhyessa pointed at another figure moving strangely—almost skipping or hopping as she approached.

Squinting, Nikola spotted Blake.

She was casually playing with a jump rope.

But with each hop, the rope slapped the ground, sending speckles of liquid flying in all directions.

"Hey, what the fuck!" the needle-toothed man shouted. "You keep splattering me with that!"

"Oh, you're such a bitch," Blake laughed. "You're coated in his blood, and you're complaining about my jump rope?"

"That's different," he grumbled. "Besides, that's his intestines you're playing with. That's not just blood you're spraying everywhere!"

"Yeah, it smells absolutely wonderful, don't it?" Blake sighed with delight.

"What the hell is wrong with them?" Nikola whispered to Rhyessa.

All he got in response was a shrug.

Shaking her head, Rhyessa turned and made her way to the helm of the airship, scanning the surroundings as she walked.

Her feline gaze locked onto the eyes of the lost, the forsaken, and the forgotten—her people.

And within the beastkin crowd, she noticed it.

A small glimmer of hope.

Each one nervously stole glances at her before turning their eyes back to the armada looming in the distance.

The Heart of Eternity wasn't quite ready to set sail—just a few more minutes.

Regrettably, they didn't have a few more minutes.

Nikola initiated the takeoff sequence, waiting only for Blake to board before they could depart.

He tapped his foot nervously, each second dragging by with agonizing slowness.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Finally, Blake—pudding monster extraordinaire—hopped aboard, gleefully skipping her way onto the deck with a jump rope, blissfully ignoring the confused stares directed at her.

Nikola glanced over at the queen. Their eyes met. She gave him a small nod.

With a deep breath and a silent prayer that something, anything would go right, Nikola yanked on a lever shaped like a twisted tree branch.

In an instant, everyone on board either dropped to their knees or landed flat on their backs as The Heart of Eternity shot skyward like a balloon released underwater.

"The Slaethians are moving!" a beastkin shouted, snapping the crew out of their stunned silence.

"This is going to be a hell of a race," Nikola muttered to himself, leaping up for another lever.

He pulled it. Then jumped again—more frantic this time—and yanked another one.

"Shit!"

He bolted, tiny feet pattering across the deck as he sprinted from the helm to the railing.

Peering back over the side, he cursed again.

The nacelles—still wrapped in twisting, unfinished rootwork—weren't fully grown in yet.

"Shit!" he shouted louder, throwing his arms up in frustration.

Amid the chaos and panic, Rhyessa slipped below deck to check on her two kittens. Whatever was happening above was now beyond her control.

~

Anlyth's eyelids fluttered, the world a hazy whirl of color as she clawed her way back from unconsciousness.

Her fingers clenched, searching blindly for something—anything—to hold onto.

Slowly, shapes and shadows bled into focus.

The rhythmic sway beneath her made her stomach churn, each movement amplifying the ache in her bruised and battered body.

Blinking through the haze, she realized she was cocooned in a hammock. The coarse fabric dug into her ribs like a net of thorns.

Her gaze drifted upward—and a quiet gasp escaped her lips.

Vines.

Sinuous and alive, they crept along the ceiling, twisting across the wooden planks like living veins. Nature's intrusion into the vessel's heart left her momentarily spellbound.

Then came the sound.

Frantic footsteps thudded above, the clatter of bodies moving too quickly in too small a space. Panic-stricken voices cut through the air, sharp and raw, each laced with its own shade of fear.

"I'm relieved to see you're awake," a soothing, feminine voice murmured at her side.

Anlyth's elongated elf ears perked at the familiar voice, guiding her gaze toward the source. She blinked, eyes scanning until they settled on a beastkin woman nearby.

A catkin.

Two small kittens clung to her like lifelines, buried against her sides.

Anlyth let out a dry breath, her voice raspy and laced with pain.

"It's you."

The catkin woman nodded gently, her feline eyes soft with relief and concern.

"We found you while evacuating the catacombs," Queen Rhyessa replied.

Anlyth's brows drew together as she summoned the strength to speak.

Each word came like a breath dragged uphill.

"So… we won?"

"We?"

The catkin smirked, a faint flicker of amusement playing across her feline features.

"Ugh, don't tell me it was that vile pudding," Anlyth hissed.

She tried to sit up—only to wince as her broken ribs lit up in protest, pain surging through her like fire.

"You've proven to me you're not with the Slaethians," Queen Rhyessa began, her voice gentle, yet threaded with curiosity.

"And yet… why did you do nothing when you came with them to raze my kingdom? Why did you do nothing when they killed my husband? When they had killed me—and my children?"

Her words carried a quiet sincerity, each one laced with pain as she tried to make sense of the wounded Champion's silence.

"Jörmun forbid me from intervening," Anlyth replied, exhaling with a trace of resignation. "He wanted me to watch."

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Honestly… I'm glad he did. I don't think I would've fully understood how far Slaethia had fallen otherwise."

"I see," was all Rhyessa said in return.

The frantic shuffling of feet overhead pulled Anlyth's attention upward.

She closed her eyes, centering herself as she reached inward—tapping into the wellspring of her magic.

Holy magic.

It wasn't just for smiting foes—it was healing, restoration.

Her domain.

A gentle, golden glow enveloped her, warmth spreading through her limbs as the sharp pain gripping her body began to fade.

Fractured bones snapped back into place.

Bruises vanished. Cuts sealed without a trace.

When she opened her eyes again, the piercing blue of her irises now radiated a warm golden hue—briefly—before fading back to their original intensity.

Climbing out of the hammock, Anlyth cast a quick glance toward the catkin and her two kittens. She gave them a nod.

"I'm going to head up and see what's going on," she said, a faint, reassuring smile curling her lips.

She turned—

—and stumbled.

Her foot caught on something soft and round. She pitched forward and crashed face-first onto the unforgiving wooden floor.

A sharp shriek escaped her as she rolled onto her back, dazed and scowling.

Blinking through the sudden flare of pain, her gaze snapped to the culprit.

A small, black creature squished on the floor beneath her.

Blake's pet.

The name came back to her in a groan.

Phantasia.

The little Black Pudding unfurled itself with a gelatinous wiggle, taking on the shape of a tiny unicorn with tentacles.

Anlyth sat up and groaned louder as she spotted several of the creatures lying around.

She huffed and climbed to her feet, brushing herself off with sharp, irritated movements.

"How did you even end up there?" she muttered, scolding the creature with a tisk and a glare.

Phantasia's many bodies all turned to stare at Anlyth, their unblinking orange gazes devoid of any sign they understood a single word she'd said.

~

General Ezad stood stiffly beside the helmsman on the lead ship, hands clenched behind his back, knuckles white from the pressure.

His eyes never left the lone airship in the distance—her ship.

The battle had turned savage, too volatile to stay close. They'd been forced to retreat, to watch from afar as magic and fire tore the skies open.

But now…

Now that one of their Champions had fallen, the time for hesitation had passed.

His jaw tightened.

"My love…" The words slipped out low and bitter, like ash on his tongue. "Why did you betray us?"

No softness remained in the question. Only fury barely held in check.

He turned sharply toward the helmsman, voice like cracked iron.

"Proceed."

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.