Madison crawled onto the crumbling rooftop of a partially submerged building, her body battered and beaten by the unrelenting force of the tsunami. Every movement sent sharp waves of pain through her muscles, but she pushed forward, her body trembling with cold and exhaustion. The water clung to her like ice, soaking her clothes and weighing her down, while her skin burned from the cuts and bruises she'd sustained in the chaos.

Her fingers scraped against the jagged edge of the rooftop, nails cracking as she pulled herself up with a final, desperate burst of strength. She collapsed onto the solid surface, chest heaving, her breath coming in ragged gasps. For a brief moment, she lay still, the weight of everything crushing down on her. The cold bit into her skin, but she forced herself to sit up, scanning the ruined landscape below.

She was alone—or so she thought.

A sharp crackle of magic snapped through the air, and before she could react, Isis appeared, standing tall over her. The wicked grin on the sorceress's face sent a chill down Madison's spine.

"It's so very loud," Isis cooed, tilting her head as if listening to some invisible melody. "Your crystal... it hums in fear. I can feel it vibrating, almost like it is everywhere around me. You're absolutely terrified, aren't you?"

Madison froze, her heart pounding in her chest, the terror paralyzing her. Isis crouched down, her cruel eyes locking onto Madison's with a malicious gleam, as if savoring the power she held in this moment. "It's been far too long, child," Isis whispered, her voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "My master has waited for this... for you. To finally meet you as he intended."

Panic surged through Madison as she tried to pull back, but there was nowhere to run, no way out. The rooftop beneath her feet creaked ominously under the relentless weight of the storm, and the edge of the platform loomed, offering no escape.

"N-no, please..." Madison's voice trembled, her breath coming in shallow, panicked bursts. She had it all wrong, and she feared what would happen when they discovered the truth. But before she could say more, Isis's hand shot forward, clamping around her wrist with a grip that felt like iron.

"Oh yes, Your Highness," Isis hissed, her words laced with venom as she dragged Madison closer, their faces inches apart. "He's dying to see you again. To finish what he started... back when he tried to kill you on the moon."

With a snap of magic, they vanished from the flooding platform, reappearing deep within the concealed stronghold of Isis and her armies. This was the crucible from which their enemies would one day launch their final, decisive strike. The very air in this place felt heavy with ancient magic and whispered promises of devastation

***** *****

Mya knelt beside Richie, her hands pressing rhythmically on his chest, panic surging through her every movement. Both of them were a bloodied, battered mess—soaked from the tsunami's reach, but alive. Her breaths came fast, shallow, each one fighting against the rising tide of fear clawing at her insides. "Breathe, damn it!" she cried, her voice trembling and filled with desperation. "Richie, one, two, three, four," she counted, her voice rising with every compression.

Her palms moved with frantic precision, each push harder than the last as she battled the icy grip of dread. "Come on, Richie! Come on!" she pleaded, tears mingling with the rain as she forced the words out. Her voice cracked, breaking under the weight of it all. She wasn't supposed to care this much anymore. She was with someone else now—had moved on—but seeing him like this, seeing the light flicker from his eyes, terrified her in a way that no other loss had.

The memories of them together, laughing, fighting, and everything in between flashed through her mind, taunting her. The idea of losing him, of never hearing his voice again, clawed at her, leaving her breathless. Despite everything, despite the new life she had built, Richie had always held a piece of her heart—a piece she wasn't ready to let go of.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking as tears slid down her cheeks. "Don't do this." She pressed harder, desperation fueling her as she fought against the terrifying thought of a world without him in it.

And then, suddenly, his body jerked violently, water spilling from his mouth in a rush. He gasped, sputtering, as his lungs finally filled with air.

Mya collapsed beside him, her whole body trembling with relief.

"Oh, thank God," she whispered, choking on the words, her voice thick with emotion. Her hands hovered over his chest, still shaking, as if unsure whether to continue compressions or let him breathe on his own. The adrenaline that had fueled her frantic efforts was quickly fading, leaving her weak and unsteady. But the sound of Richie's coughing breaths—the blessed, ragged gasps for air—brought a surge of hope that made her heart race even faster.

She didn't waste a moment. Her hands moved instinctively, tilting his head gently as she scanned his face, her breath shallow and shaky. "Richie," she said, her voice cracking with urgency, "where does it hurt? Your head? Your chest? Tell me."

Her fingers roved over the bruises, the cuts, and the deep gashes, the fear still lodged in her chest like a stone. She knew, even with the power of the crystals, they weren't untouchable. Blunt trauma could kill just as easily. And after all they'd survived today, the thought of losing him now—after everything—was unbearable.

Mya exhaled shakily, her relief palpable, but before she could fully gather herself, Richie's eyes fluttered open, dazed but focused. He blinked slowly, and a weak, lopsided grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, the same cocky smile that drove her crazy.

"You... okay?" he croaked, his voice barely audible but laced with that unmistakable humor, as if he had been the one saving her all along.

"Can you not do that to me, huh?" Mya muttered, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and overwhelming relief. "I have enough anxiety without you pulling that kind of stunt."

Richie, still struggling to catch his breath, gave her a weak grin. "What stunt?" he rasped, his voice strained but playful.

"Getting yourself killed, you idiot!" She glared at him, her expression a mix of annoyance and vulnerability, though her eyes betrayed the relief of seeing him alive.

Richie chuckled softly, though the effort sent a wave of pain through him. "Then why go through all the trouble of saving me?"

Mya smirked despite herself, a flicker of their old banter slipping through. "Because finding someone else to hate would be way too much effort."

"And going through all that to save me wasn't?" Richie teased, the familiar glint returning to his eyes even as he leaned into her for support.

"See, this is why I can't stand you. Always nitpicking," she retorted, though her voice was laced with undeniable affection.

Richie shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "And yet, here you are," he murmured, letting her help him sit up. His expression sobered as his gaze shifted to the landscape around them. What had once been a serene wetland was now a graveyard of destruction—uprooted trees, twisted metal, and debris scattered across the waterlogged ground. The air was thick with the stench of saltwater, mud, and decay, punctuated by the distant cries of survivors.

"I have no words," Richie muttered, his voice heavy as he tried to process the devastation.

"Yeah," Mya sighed, shaking her head. "No words." She looked over at him, the reality of how close she had come to losing him sinking in. Even if things between them had changed, that fear had been all too real.

"We need to find the others," Richie said, his voice low but firm as he leaned on Mya, pulling himself up with her help. His hand tightened on hers, offering both of them a small sense of grounding amidst the chaos. "Make sure everyone's alright." His gaze swept across the desolation once more, shaking his head in disbelief. "God... what a shit show."

They trudged through the thick, clinging mud, their feet sinking into the muck with each step as they moved through the wreckage of lives torn apart. Broken homes, scattered belongings, shattered dreams—the heartache of the devastation surrounded them. The distant sobs of people searching for their loved ones echoed through the air, mingling with the occasional creak of collapsing debris.

Overhead, Allegiant ships descended from the sky like beacons of hope, their lights cutting through the thick gloom. Rescue teams were already deploying, soldiers and medics rushing into the wreckage, bringing with them the first glimmer of hope in this sea of despair.

Richie and Mya pressed on, scanning the ruins with a desperate urgency. Their steps were heavy, but their resolve was unshakable. They would find their friends—they had to.

Despite everything, despite the destruction, Richie's grip on Mya's hand remained firm, his touch a lifeline in the chaos that raged around them.

****** ******

The trio of Isis, Xero, and Madison emerged like a storm within the darkened realm, their sudden arrival causing a ripple through the otherwise still environment. Hidden from view, a woman with narrow brown eyes watched from behind a crumbling wall, her gaze sharp and calculating.

Their presence was soon felt in the grand chamber that served as the Sorceress's makeshift throne room. Isis and Xero were no strangers here; they had haunted these prison-like corridors since the beginning of the war, their brutal reputations well-known throughout the darkened stronghold.

The observer involuntarily drew in a deeper breath than intended within the confined space between the walls. An insatiable curiosity fueled her desire to comprehend the unfolding commotion sparked by the appearance of the two malevolent henchmen.

Distraught and disoriented by her surroundings, Madison's screams echoed, her voice raw with terror as she was pulled into this nightmarish place. Her cries of confusion and horror reverberated off the cold stone walls. The girl behind the wall shuddered, the sound sending a chill down her spine, a reminder of the cruelty that ruled this place.

Beneath her terror, the observer could hear every detail of Madison's frantic sobs, the fear in her voice unmistakable. The tension in the air was palpable, the very essence of dread settling in.

The observer took a deep breath, attempting to rein in the fear coursing through her bones. Spying on the Sorceress was always fraught with danger, and the last thing she wanted was to be caught spying again. Inhaling once more behind the narrow, claustrophobic, dusty, and decayed walls, she observed as the newcomer was forcefully thrown to the ground.

Isis let out a sinister laugh as Madison's knees hit the filthy marble floor with a crunch. With a malevolent gesture, she summoned two crystals from Madison's chest, making them pulsate ominously in the room. The eerie sound of laughter echoed, not just from one or two, but from a multitude of creatures that filled the decaying throne room.

"You got what you wanted," Madison gasped, her chest heaving as she watched the two crystals hovering ominously before her. "There are the crystals, Isis! You have them!" Her voice carried a sharp edge of defiance, despite her exhaustion.

From behind the cracked walls, the woman in hiding tilted her head slightly, intrigued by the fire in Madison's voice. She had been watching from the shadows, observing the Sorceress's dealings for years. She wondered, had the outside world finally awakened to the madness that had festered within these cursed halls for over a decade?

Her sharp brown eyes scanned the throne room, taking in every detail. They rested on the man seated on the dark throne, his fingers tapping idly on the armrests, the movement deceptively calm amidst the chaos surrounding them. Then her gaze shifted, landing on a woman shackled to the floor in front of the throne, a skeletal shadow of who she once was. Her hair hung in filthy strands, and her body bore the marks of years under the Sorceress's control—broken, mangled, her spirit as battered as her form.

Madison's eyes widened in horror as she recognized the prisoner. "Ezra?" she whispered, her voice cracking. The sight of her in chains struck a deep chord of fear and disbelief. How had it come to this?

"Ah, yes!" Isis's gleeful voice cut through the air like a blade, her twisted smile gleaming in the dim light. "She's become such a bore over the years. She used to be so much fun." She pouted theatrically, mocking the gravity of the situation. "But you would love her daughter," Isis added with a wicked grin. "A feisty little thing, always sneaking around here somewhere. I'm sure she's lurking in the shadows, as she does best."

The observer's fists clenched tightly as she watched her mother, Ezra, took slow, deliberate breaths, barely clinging to life. The Sorceress had kept them all as prisoners, bound to her dark will, and Ezra was as much a victim as any of them. How desperately Ezra's daughter wanted the world to know the truth. That they were all pawns in the Sorceress's twisted game.

The truth was worse than she could have imagined. By keeping Ezra in chains, the Sorceress had deflected attention away from her real target—the princess. The child who carried the crystal they so desperately sought. For months, that crystal had been resonating, its increasing intensity impossible to ignore.

From the fragmented whispers and arguments she'd overheard, the observer had pieced together a grim revelation: the crystal responded to the emotions of its bearer, and that bearer was none other than the princess of two worlds. She was alive, though hidden away for so long. This fact wasn't news to any of them, not anymore. What broke the girl's heart was knowing that the princess, wherever she had found peace, had now been dragged back into this dark realm—back into the Sorceress's clutches.

The observer had spent years hidden within the castle walls, eavesdropping on these secrets, surviving on scraps of information. It wasn't until the Sorcerer returned, however, that the pieces began to fall into place. The Sorceress, laughing with her malevolent partner, had gleefully revealed that they were closer than ever to reclaiming the princess and the crystal. And now, in this forsaken place, all of those nightmares were coming true.

"Darling," Isis purred as she sauntered toward the throne, where the Sorcerer sat with a bored expression. "The spare crystals that your sill boy has been holding onto... and the princess." She pouted, glancing back at Madison and Ezra. "And yes, your boy is still alive, just as promised. A little wet, but still breathing."

Hidden in the shadows, the girl with brown eyes remained concealed, her heart racing as she eavesdropped. She had overheard many secrets over the years, but this one stung more than most. The realization that the princess, the last thread of hope, was now in their clutches sent a chill down her spine. The peace the princess had once found was slipping away, and the girl could sense the encroaching darkness.

The Sorcerer's lazy demeanor shifted as he rose from his seat, a slow smile creeping across his face. He descended the stairs with calculated grace, his gaze grazing over the broken form of Ezra, chained at the foot of his throne. His eyes flicked briefly toward the shadows, sensing the faintest stir of the observer, but he dismissed it as a whisper in the dark.

With a casual wave of his hand, the air around Madison shimmered. A sudden, sickening pull yanked the crystals from her chest, their radiant energy floating into the open air before her, pulsating with unnatural light. Madison gasped, her hands instinctively clutching her chest, the pain of their departure leaving her breathless. The crystals hovered, casting eerie reflections on the stone walls.

"What?" Madison spat, her voice laced with fear and defiance. "Like I said, you have them now. The crystals. What more do you want?"

The Sorcerer knelt beside her, his face just inches from hers, amusement and confusion mingling on his features. "Very curious," he murmured, studying her intently.

"Where is the other crystal?" Isis's sharp voice cut through the room. "The one meant to change this war. These are just the normal ones," she barked, frustration creeping into her tone.

Cid cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he studied Madison with cold, calculating precision. "Very curious," he muttered, his gaze probing her, as if trying to unravel a puzzle.

Madison met his eyes, her heart racing, panic surging through her. They were close to figuring it out—the fact that she wasn't the princess they believed her to be, and that the crystal they sought was not in her possession. It was her cousin who held the true power, and when they discovered this, Madison feared the consequences.

"Take her down to the cells," the Sorcerer ordered, his voice dripping with sinister calm. "We have time before the equinox of the moons. We'll commence the time compression then. The beast will return before that, and he will determine the truth about this crystal."

Madison's breath hitched as the guards moved forward, their grips firm as they seized her by the arms. She thrashed against them, her fear fueling her resistance, but it was futile. Their hold was ironclad, dragging her toward the darkness of the dungeons.

The Sorcerer watched her with a gleam of satisfaction in his eyes, already anticipating the unfolding of his twisted plans. Madison's mind raced, but she kept her expression defiant, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her break as she was dragged away.

From her hidden vantage point, the brown-eyed girl's resolve hardened. She had watched the Sorceress and her cruel master tear her family apart, had witnessed the moment her father's heart was torn from his chest. Her mother was nothing more than a shadow of her former self, shackled and broken in the same room. Yet, Madison still fought—despite the fear, despite the odds—and it reignited the spark of hope within the girl watching from the shadows.

"My dear, I have a few loose ends to tie up with your boy, if I may?" Isis's voice slithered through the room, cutting through the tension like a blade. Her words caught Xero's attention, and he tilted his head curiously, waiting for her next move.

The Sorcerer's gaze darkened, a flicker of genuine concern sharpening his features. "I don't want him anywhere near that barrier again," he growled, his tone hard as iron. His eyes bore into Isis, the weight of his words leaving no room for misinterpretation. "He will bring it down next time, he nearly did if he continued. Do you understand me, Isis? They still believe we're there, and I want it kept that way."

Isis, her usual mocking demeanor still present, nodded more seriously than before. "Antagonize only," she agreed, a twisted smile crossing her lips before she vanished into the air with a faint giggle.

In that tense silence, the girl watching from the shadows felt a spark of hope ignite within her. The Sorcerer's concern was real, and it gave her the sliver of opportunity she had been waiting for. Two powerful crystals were now in play, and she knew it could turn the tide of war. This was the chance she had been waiting for, the moment she needed to break free from the chains that had bound her for so long.

If she could find the crystal warriors and reveal the Sorceress's true intentions, they might have a fighting chance. She just needed to bide her time.

"You'll get what's coming to you, Sorceress," she whispered fiercely, retreating from her hiding place. "I swear to the gods you will."

******* ******

Eko and Matthew sat on the crumbling concrete platform, their small refuge amidst the relentless floodwaters that surged around them. She nestled into his embrace, her back pressed against his chest, the roar of the water now a distant hum, yet the weight of everything they had just endured still lingered in the air.

Eko felt the rise and fall of Matthew's chest as he took slow, deliberate breaths, each one more controlled than the last. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and the tension that had gripped his body gradually eased. His hand, once trembling, was now steady, his grip on hers firm and reassuring.

Her own strength was returning, her body healing as the crystals worked their magic. She could feel the bruises mending, the aches and cuts slowly fading, though the emotional weight of it all still clung to her like the dampness in the air.

"Are you good to get back out there?" Eko whispered, her eyes fixed on the horizon, where faint flickers of lightning still crackled in the distance. "I need to find Maddy, Matthew. What if—"

"One of the guys will have gotten to her," Matthew interrupted softly, his thoughts tangled in a mix of worry and bitterness. He could still hear Madison's scathing words, her accusations gnawing at him. As much as she was Eko's cousin, his hatred for her ran deep. But beneath all that, Eko's declaration that he was her family—the one thing that anchored him—clashed against the doubts Madison had stirred.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the back of her head, drawing comfort from the simple connection.

As they sat in silence, Matthew's gaze shifted upward, scanning the sky. "We need an Allegiant ship to pick us up," he muttered. "If we try to transport now, we could end up anywhere." His brow furrowed as he squinted into the horizon. "I don't even know where the hell we are anymore."

Eko nodded, though her fingers fidgeted restlessly. She stared out into the darkness, trying to pierce through it with her eyes. The storm had passed, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The rain and thunder were gone, but a sense of foreboding clung to the air like the mist that hovered over the water.

Just then, they noticed lights flickering in the distance. Both of their heads snapped toward the source—an approaching boat, its floodlights sweeping the water in search of survivors. A glimmer of relief and tension mingled in the air.

But that relief was fleeting. Without warning, a surge of magic crackled around them, its energy electrifying the atmosphere. In an instant, Isis materialized on the platform, her presence blotting out any hope of rescue. Eko and Matthew scrambled to their feet, hearts pounding, but the confined space left them nowhere to escape.

"Why am I not surprised you two managed to survive?" Isis's voice dripped with sinister amusement. Her eyes gleamed with predatory delight as she took in their disheveled forms, reveling in their weariness.

Eko's weapon materialized in her hand, and she gripped it tightly, her eyes never leaving Isis. "What do you want?" she demanded, forcing her voice to remain steady, even as her pulse raced with fear.

Isis chuckled darkly, her eyes gleaming with twisted amusement. "Want?" she echoed, her gaze flicking to Matthew. "It's not about what I want. It's about what I need. And while I'd prefer you dead," she added with a cruel smirk, "I just need you both out of the way."

"That's not going to happen," Matthew shook his head, his voice firm.

Isis's smile was cruel, her eyes gleaming with wicked delight as she drank in Eko and Matthew's shock. "Now, what if I told you that while you two were playing the hero, I got exactly what I wanted?" Her voice dripped with satisfaction. "And your dear future queen didn't make it. I thought I'd spare you the suspense."

Eko felt the world slip out from under her, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. "No..." Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief. "You're lying... she can't be—"

"Oh, but she is," Isis interrupted, her glee evident as she twisted the knife. "Snapped her neck like a twig."

"M-Maddy?" Eko stammered, her voice shaking with horror. "You did what to Maddy?"

Isis's smile widened, savoring their despair. "Oh, child, don't cry. She should have died the night the moon was attacked, her and that crystal of hers would have been ours without all do this delay. Now, will you cooperate, or do you need another demonstration of my resolve?"

Eko's nails dug into Matthew's skin as Isis's oppressive magic pressed in on them, thick and heavy. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a fleeting moment, she realized she was losing another person she loved. The grief and rage twisted within her, nearly suffocating her.

Matthew, struggling to focus, noticed something in the distance—beyond Isis. The boat, now much closer, revealed the familiar figures aboard: Toni, Richie, Jasmine, and Mya. They were coming for them, powers flaring as they sped through the water, their determination unmistakable.

"Tootaloo, my little pets," Isis taunted with a malicious smirk before vanishing in a flash of magic. As the light faded and the storm calmed, the empty expanse left behind was almost surreal. Eko staggered out of Matthew's arms, her knees buckling as she stared into the void, her breath ragged and uneven. The deafening silence after Isis's departure was broken only by the rhythmic lapping of the water and Eko's shallow gasps.

Moments later, a small boat approached, its floodlights sweeping over the ruined landscape. The warriors on board docked quickly, their faces painted with disbelief at the scene before them—each one absorbing the destruction caused by the tsunami and the emotional wreckage left in its wake.

"Madison was caught," Matthew spoke grimly, his eyes scanning their faces. "Isis said she killed her and took the crystal."

Eko's response was immediate and visceral. She crumpled to the ground, gasping in agony as her body convulsed with grief. Raw sobs tore from her throat, her cries so intense that they seemed to pierce the storm itself. Every gasp of breath, every scream was an eruption of pain that echoed around them, her body hunched over as she pounded her fists into the debris of land they stood on. She screamed into the chaos, her torment becoming a tempest of its own, fueled by the crushing realization that Madison was gone now aswell.

The group stood frozen, the weight of Eko's grief palpable, pressing down on them like a force of nature. They had all faced loss, but the raw, visceral pain pouring from Eko was different, a depth of anguish that seemed to tear the very fabric of the world apart. It was as if the air itself thickened around them, heavy with the sheer magnitude of her heartbreak.

Matthew, his heart heavy with guilt, moved to stand in front of her, his presence a silent attempt at comfort. But the truth gnawed at him—Eko had come after him instead of staying with Madison. The guilt was unbearable, a crushing weight that threatened to pull him under. He had failed her, and now she was breaking in front of him, because of him.

"Eko, baby," he whispered, reaching out, but his words were swallowed by another agonizing wail. Her cries echoed in the air, the sound so full of pain that it felt as though the very storm had been silenced by it.

But then something shifted. Eko's body stilled, and Matthew saw her fists clench tightly at her sides. He watched as she slowly rose from the ground, her entire frame trembling with rage, her heartache turning into something far more dangerous. Matthew recognized the look in her eyes—the cold, hardened determination that came when her warrior instincts took over.

He had seen this side of her before, was acquainted with the warrior beneath her bones, the one he had spent most of his life with. The one he had fought countless battles with, the kind of battles that they had no business being in. It was a part of her that scared even him.

"We're bringing them to their fucking knees," Eko growled, her voice low, vibrating with an intensity that matched the crackling energy around her. Sparks of electricity danced across her skin, her power building, ready to be unleashed. Without another word, she vanished, the air around her shimmering with the remnants of her power.

Matthew stood still for a moment, dread pooling in his gut. This was the Eko who, when consumed by rage, lost her sensibility. Lost her control, and he feared, lost her rationality.

Without a second thought, Matthew's own powers ignited. He felt the familiar surge of energy flood through him, and with a single command to his warriors, they followed Eko's trail.

Like lightning bolts cutting through the sky, they tore across the horizon, their destination clear. The eastern border loomed ahead, where their enemies waited. But this time, they weren't just responding to the war—they were about to bring it to their enemies' doorstep, determined to turn the tide of the war on its head.