**** 8.20 AM  *****

Eric arrived in Isadora moments too late.

His course had been set for Allegiant, but something shifted. A profound, unnatural disturbance in the city's energy—so strong it cracked through his senses like a lightning strike. It yanked him off course, pulled him straight into the heart of devastation.

The air was thick with ruin.

Smoke choked the sky, ash falling like poisoned snow. The acrid stench of burning metal, scorched stone, and blood clung to his lungs with every breath. The city was unrecognizable.

What was once a thriving district had become a graveyard.

Shattered buildings stood as hollow skeletons, some still collapsing under the weight of destruction, others engulfed in flames, their dying embers licking at the heavens. The sky was dark, thick with smoke, the sun barely piercing through the haze of war.

Eric's honey-brown eyes scanned the wreckage. Bodies. Blood. Shadows of people who had once walked these streets.

And then—a flicker. A faint glimmer of hope.

The warriors we all still standing, but what irked him was as his gaze swept across them, searching, counting—Eko was missing.

And Matthew—

Matthew was on his knees, his broad shoulders hunched forward, head hanging low, unmoving. Toni knelt in front of him, his voice rushed, concerned—frantic almost. His hands hovered, unsure whether to shake him or steady him.

Eric's chest tightened. His breath caught as he watched the scene unravel, a deep-seated fear clawing at the back of his mind. Something wasn't right. His gaze swept down the ruined street, past the mangled wreckage, past the still-burning husks of vehicles and shattered glass reflecting the chaos.

And then—he saw the mage.

A man whose name had only been whispered the night before when Jesse updated him on what had happened. His presence was a storm. The very air around him seethed with power, crackling like lightning ready to strike. His voice sliced through the destruction—raw, furious, teetering on the edge of control.

It clashed against Jesse's sharp, urgent words, her tone edged with something more than frustration—

Fear.

She was struggling to rein him in, to keep him from unraveling further, but he wasn't listening.

Nearby, Mya knelt beside Jasmine, her fingers pressing gently against the burns marring her friend's arm. Jasmine flinched, but Mya didn't hesitate, her focus razor-sharp as they whispered in hushed, frantic tones. Their gazes kept flickering to the city beyond, shadows of worry etched into their expressions.

Above them, Allegiant ships loomed in the sky, their ominous silhouettes stretching over the ravaged streets. The deep, thrumming pulse of their engines vibrated through the air, a haunting, mechanical heartbeat thick with dread.

Eric's heart pounded, relentless.

"We need to go after her!"

Vause's voice ripped through the silence, raw, desperate, shaking with a fury that barely contained the sheer panic behind it. His chest heaved as his eyes darted between them, wild, frantic, relentless.

"What the fuck are we doing standing here?" he roared, his entire body thrumming with barely restrained energy. "They're going to kill her!"

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, his breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. Every second wasted felt like a knife to his throat.

Jesse stepped forward, trying to reach him, trying to ground him, but Vause jerked away. His pulse hammered against his skin, his thoughts a chaotic storm. He couldn't breathe—not while she was out there, not while she was in their hands.

His voice broke on the next words, but he didn't care. "We have to move. Now."

Jesse turned sharply, her gaze snapping to Matthew and Toni, searching for something—a plan, a direction, anything to latch onto—because this was spiraling, fast.

"Matthew?" Toni snapped again, his voice sharp, demanding, cutting through the suffocating tension. "This isn't the time to fucking shut down! Lock this shit down in your head and tell me what's the plan?"

For a long, excruciating moment, there was nothing. Just silence.

Then—Matthew moved.

His steel-blue eyes lifted, no longer vacant, no longer drowning—they burned. The weight of his grief, his fury, his desperation fused into something lethal. He locked onto Toni, his voice coming slow, steady, each word a controlled strike.

"We're moving to protocol Zenith," Matthew commanded.

Toni's entire body went rigid.

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, dread sinking deep into his bones. "Fuck, Matthew... is this really what you want to do?"

The man who now looked like he was ready to burn the entire world down nodded.

Jesse's chest tightened as she stepped forward, peeling herself away from Vause, her unease tangling with something colder.

"Matthew," Jesse warned, her voice controlled but tight, laced with something dangerously close to fear. "Think this through."

But Matthew barely reacted. His fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, his grip ironclad as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His black collared shirt clung to his skin, torn and dusted with ash, his suit pants streaked with debris. But none of it mattered. The flames in his eyes burned hotter than the fires raging in the city beyond them.

"I'll bring them to their fucking knees," he snarled, his voice sharp, venomous, vibrating with an anger so potent it sent a pulse of unease through the warriors around him. His gaze cut through them, filled with an unyielding promise—there would be no mercy.

Toni straightened at his side, his stomach twisting at the certainty in Matthew's voice. He scanned the faces of the warriors around them, watching as the weight of the command settled like an anvil on their shoulders. They knew what this meant. Knew what Matthew had just decided. And yet, not one of them hesitated.

Matthew exhaled sharply, a breath filled with ice. "Go. Sound the academies. All of them." His voice rang through the hollowed-out street, final, absolute. "Prepare for war."

A ripple of movement followed. The warriors dispersed in an instant, vanishing into the smoke and destruction. Only Toni and Vause remained, their expressions unreadable, but their silence said everything.

Then—

A step. A crunch of rubble beneath a boot. "Matthew," Eric said, his voice carefully even, controlled.

Matthew turned sharply, his blood still boiling, the edges of his vision tinged red. He caught sight of Eric approaching, the Elder's expression unreadable, cautious, like he was stepping toward something volatile.

For a fleeting moment, Matthew's fury faltered, tempered by familiarity. But the reprieve was fleeting. He adjusted his stance, shifting on his feet with that same predator-like intensity, the weight of his sword deliberate, controlled.

Toni tensed, catching the shift in energy before anyone else. His pulse spiked, eyes darting between them.

"Matthew, no! Stop!" Toni's voice was raw, desperate, but it barely cut through the thick, suffocating energy pouring off his best friend in waves.

Because this—this was not the man they had followed for years.

This was something else. A force unchecked. Unbound. A violent storm, coiling tighter, ready to break. And if no one stopped him, Toni wasn't sure if there'd be anything left standing when the fury finally tore loose.

Eric barely had a second to react before Matthew's hand shot out, fingers closing around his throat in a grip so unrelenting, so brutal, that his breath was gone in an instant. A sharp gasp cut through the air as Eric's feet left the ground, his body hoisted like he was weightless, his toes scraping at the dirt, searching for stability that didn't exist.

His fingers clawed at Matthew's hand, but the grip was iron. Crushing.

Toni moved on instinct, lunging forward, his heart slamming against his ribs. "Matthew, what the fuck are you doing?" His voice was sharp, but even he could hear the underlying panic.

Matthew's steel-blue eyes burned, locked on Eric with a fury so pure, so consuming, it barely seemed human. "Did you know!?" His voice was a snarl, each word edged with venom. "Tell me—did you know who she really was? What she's been hiding?"

Eric's eyes widened, terror flashing through them as his body convulsed against the grip choking the air from his lungs.

"He can't tell us anything if he's unconscious," Vause muttered from where he stood, head tilted, watching the scene unfold with unnerving calm, as though this were nothing more than a passing curiosity.

"Matthew, I said let him go!" Toni snapped, stepping closer, hands twitching at his sides, ready to intervene if he had to. "You're going to kill him if you keep this up!"

But Matthew didn't move.

Didn't flinch.

His grip only tightened, a deep, unrestrained rage bleeding through his voice. "She told you, didn't she?" His breath was ragged, uneven. "You knew she was the Princess. You knew she held the crystal—the fucking thing that could tear apart time itself! Is that why you put her in my care?" His voice cracked then, something frayed at the edges. Something broken. "Is that why you insisted that she was in my care?"

Something flickered in Eric's eyes—panic, fear, understanding. But buried beneath it, something else. Something primal. He wasn't staring at a man anymore. He was staring at a force ready to burn the world down for the woman he loved. And nothing—no reason, no explanation—would ever be enough to stop him.

"Matthew!" Toni barked, stepping between them now, close enough that he could reach for Matthew's wrist. "Let. Him. Go."

The command was like a tether yanking Matthew back from the abyss.

For a breathless second, the air held, thick with tension.

Then, finally, Matthew's fingers unclenched, his grip releasing just enough for Eric to drop like dead weight. The Elder hit the ground hard, stumbling, one hand clutching at his bruised throat as he coughed, gasping for air, his other hand bracing against the rubble.

Toni exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. "Jesus fucking Christ."

Eric wheezed, his breaths still uneven, but when he finally managed to lift his gaze, his voice was steady. "I knew she was the Princess," he admitted hoarsely, his throat raw from the strain. "But the crystal... I swear to you, I didn't know."

Matthew's body was rigid, his chest rising and falling with the kind of anger that didn't settle. The kind that seethed, simmering beneath the surface like something waiting to detonate. His jaw clenched, his teeth grinding together before he spat out, "Then why the fuck are you here now?"

Eric's lips parted, hesitation flickering in his expression before he swallowed hard, the weight of what he was about to say settling in his bones.

"Because their leader—the beast himself—found us." His voice barely wavered, but the severity of his words crashed through the space like a tidal wave. "He decimated nearly all the Elders."

"The Elders?" Vause's face drained of color, his arms falling limply to his sides. "How the hell is that even possible?"

Toni's mouth parted in disbelief, his voice reflecting the sheer impossibility of it all. "How many are left?"

"Just a handful," Eric admitted, his gaze darting between them, restless and uneasy. "He knew exactly where to find us—like he always had. He told us to stay out of this, to remain on the sidelines. He made it very clear that the Elders would not be part of this war again."

"Again?" Toni's brows furrowed. "What do you mean again?"

Vause crossed his arms, his confusion deepening into something much darker. "What aren't you telling us?" His voice was tight, pressing Eric for more. "Again? What the fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know!" Eric snapped, frustration flaring. "You think any of this makes sense to us? The bastard spoke as if we had already interfered once before, that we were the reason things spiraled out of control the first time. He said we 'helped her defend the crystal'—before!" He sucked in a shaky breath, the weight of his own words rattling in his chest. He shook his head, exhaling sharply. "But I swear to you, I never knew Sera as a child. I never had ties to the royal court. This war—it forced our worlds to collide. I don't know how any of this is possible."

"That makes no fucking sense," Vause muttered, exchanging a wary glance with Toni.

Eric squared his shoulders, his urgency mounting. "What I can deduce... is that he wasn't from this timeline."

Three heads snapped toward him, demanding more—more details, more answers, more anything that could piece this nightmare together.

Eric swallowed hard, his voice low and unsteady. "He said it explicitly—he knew Sera was alive in this timeline. And it's her blood—the blood of the Keeper, bound to the crystal—that will trigger the convergence."

"Yeah, we fucking know that!" Matthew snapped, his patience unraveling. "We know her crystal opens this paradox, that it unleashes something! The question is what the fuck and who the fuck is coming through it?"

"They think... this entity, this—" Eric hesitated, his throat working around the words. "I don't know. Deity? Monster? Something. They believe it will save them."

"Save them from who?" Vause barked, but Eric only shook his head, just as baffled.

Toni let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor behind it—only disbelief and anger. "This is turning into a complete shit show," he spat, his voice ragged. "We're meant to stand here and fucking believe in time-traveling enemies? Parallel realities? Fuck off!"

But before anyone could respond, the air cracked—a sudden, violent pulse of power ripping through the silence. Instinctively, they snapped their heads skyward, eyes widening in stunned horror.

Above them, a massive wave of energy spiraled out from one of the once-benign planets hovering in the distant skyline. It stretched outward in eerie, hypnotic brilliance, bathing the sky in an unnatural glow, its light so intense that the very clouds burned away in its wake. The sheer magnitude of the surge sent an unnatural hum vibrating through their bones, rattling their teeth.

"Oh... what the fuck?" Matthew breathed, the realization clawing its way into his chest, seizing him like a vice.

It had never just been about what was happening here. The enemy had been waiting there—hiding, watching, preparing.

"They're up there," Vause murmured, his voice hollow, a whisper of dread. "They've been there this whole time."

The truth settled like a death sentence.

Then, without a word, Matthew moved.

Power exploded around him in a raw, violent burst, the heat of it distorting the air, shaking the ground beneath them. The storm inside him was no longer simmering—it was boiling over.

"Matthew!" Toni's voice snapped through the moment, sharp and grounding, a desperate attempt to tether him to reason. "STOP! JUST FUCKING STOP!"

But Matthew wasn't stopping. His chest heaved, his hands shook, his entire being poised on the razor's edge of a decision he couldn't take back. His wild, steel-blue eyes turned to Toni, dark with fury and something worse—fear.

"I don't have time to stop," he snarled, his voice teetering between rage and desperation. He gestured wildly to the sky, to the churning chaos above them. "They'll kill her. I have to go. Right now."

"They'll kill you before you even get close!" Toni shouted, his frustration spilling over, thick with the sharp edge of desperation. "We have no fucking idea what they're capable of! Eric just told us he thinks they're from another timeline—thinks, Matthew! That means they could already know about us. Hell, they could have done this before. This could be history repeating itself, again! And we don't even know how to stop it!"

Matthew's breathing was sharp and uneven, his chest rising and falling as the weight of Toni's words threatened to settle, but the fury in his eyes remained unchecked.

Toni turned to Vause, searching for some backup, but found the same relentless, untamed determination burning behind his friend's gaze. He saw it—that same lethal resolve that had seized Matthew, that same unshakable rage boiling just beneath the surface, itching for action.

"If you both go charging in," Toni warned, his voice thick with urgency, "they'll kill you too. And that won't save Eko. That won't save Teshia."

"I'm past the point of fucking caring!" Vause spat, his voice as venomous as Matthew's. "He's going to kill them. You saw what they did to her back there! Those things—they're beyond reason. If we sit here and waste time, we lose them both!"

The words cut deep, slicing into Matthew like a blade, each syllable hammering at the raw, bleeding wound inside him. His thoughts raced, his pulse pounding in his ears. He could feel it—the inevitability of it all crashing down on him like a vice.

They had one shot to get Sera and Teshia back. And deep down, he knew the truth—their priority was Sera. If they had to pick one, if this so-called paradox demanded her sacrifice, she would be the one they killed first.

The thought nearly drove him mad.

He could already see it—the unbearable image of living in a world that she wasn't apart of. Of having to remember her for far longer than he had ever gotten to have loved her.

Vause was right. There was no time.

"He's right," Matthew growled, his voice low but unwavering, as his steel-blue eyes snapped to Toni.

"Matthew, no!" Toni's voice cracked, desperate now. "Fuck, I need you to think!"

But Matthew wasn't listening.

"I'll give them a war and I will fucking decimate them." His voice was sheer venom, sharp enough to cut through steel. His powers surged around him, wild and uncontrollable, the air distorting under the pressure. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.

A dead silence followed.

Eric took a step forward, his body rigid, his voice uneasy. "Where did he go?"

Toni let out a string of curses, his hands raking through his hair as he turned, looking in the direction Matthew had vanished. "Fuck. FUCK!"

Then it hit him.

His stomach twisted.

"He's going back for the other crystal," he realized, his voice hoarse with dread. "He's going to use it. FUCK!"

The weight of that knowledge sank into Toni like a lead weight.

Matthew wasn't thinking rationally anymore. He was slipping—falling into something Toni wasn't sure he could pull him back from.

If Matthew did this, if he really planned to use the crystal—Toni feared that this rage, this relentless fury surging through him, wouldn't just consume their enemies.

It would consume him, too.

Toni's gaze locked onto Eric and Vause, his jaw clenching as the weight of the moment settled over him. There was no turning back now. No room for hesitation.

"We're going to war, Eric," he muttered, his voice carrying something dark, something inevitable.

Then, without another word, he disappeared in a crack of raw energy, chasing after Matthew before the worst could happen. But the fear gnawed at him, coiling in his gut like a living thing.

The last time he'd seen Matthew like this—this reckless, this gone—was when he killed Tobias. And back then, he hadn't even known what he was capable of. The crystal's power had barely settled into his bones.

But now?

Twelve years of training. Twelve years of control.

And now he was breaking.

Toni had no idea what that would mean. Or where it would lead.

But something told him—if Matthew truly let go this time, there wouldn't be anything left to hold him back.

**** ******

Eko's entire body ached. Not from Cid's grip, not from the bruises blooming across her skin from the battle, but from something deeper, something she couldn't place. A sharp, unnatural cramping twisted in her lower abdomen, making her breath hitch. Her vision swam for just a second, her balance wavering as her knees threatened to give out beneath her.

She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stay upright. Now was not the time.

The barren courtyard stretched before her, a graveyard of forgotten power, where dust and decay reigned. The remnants of what had once been a grand palace stood in the distance, its skeletal remains barely clinging to existence. Dark figures lurked within the crumbling walls, their glowing, predatory eyes tracking her every movement, waiting. She could feel them, sense their anticipation like a storm waiting to break.

A deep, throbbing ache coiled in Eko's stomach, radiating outward like ice seeping into her veins. She swallowed hard against the nausea rising in her throat, each breath a battle to keep herself steady. But something was wrong. Deeply, terribly wrong. This wasn't just the virus eating away at her body—it felt worse, far worse, as if something inside her was failing. As if her body was shutting down piece by piece, and she was powerless to stop it.

"Pull it together, Your Highness," Cid murmured against her ear, his voice smooth, mocking, dripping with sick amusement. "We're not done with you yet."

Eko clenched her jaw, forcing herself to keep her expression blank, to not let him see the weakness creeping in. "Fuck you," she spat, her voice hoarse but steady.

A sharp, knowing laugh rang through the air—Isis. Her steps were slow, measured, her amusement rolling off her in waves. "Oh, she's still got fight in her," she purred, tilting her head as though admiring a fragile, breaking thing. "It'll be gone soon. Don't you worry about that."

Behind her, Teshia swayed, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. She hadn't spoken since they arrived, hadn't even looked at Eko, but the weight of her exhaustion pressed against the air between them. She was barely holding on.

And then—through the haze of pain and fear—Eko felt it.

Her hand trembled as she pressed it lightly to her stomach, trying—desperately—to ground herself. But the moment her fingers made contact, a sharp, twisting pain ripped through her, brutal and unrelenting.

More blood.

She could feel it trickling down her leg, warm against her skin, staining everything.

Her breath hitched. Her vision swam. A dizzying wave of disorientation crashed over her, her balance teetering, her body betraying her at every turn.

No. Not now.

A rough yank on her arm wrenched her forward.

"Keep moving," Cid snapped, his fingers tightening like a vice around her.

Eko had no choice.

She forced one foot in front of the other, pushing through the pain, pushing through the bone-deep terror threatening to consume her.

But inside, something was breaking. Something was slipping away.

Eko's blonde hair fell messily across her face, strands catching in her vision as she was dragged forward. The expanse before her stretched endlessly, a bleak wasteland swallowed by darkness, where even the rising sun's distant glow failed to reach. The ruins of the once-grand palace loomed in eerie silence, skeletal remains of what had once been a place of power and life. Its crumbling walls stood like forgotten sentinels, guarding nothing but death and decay.

A flicker of memory ghosted through her mind. She thought—no, she knew—she had been here before. This had been one of the royal palaces under her father's reign, a beacon of unity between the districts, a house of diplomacy where she had once spent a summer among courtyards filled with laughter, where banners of peace had draped from the balconies, and the walls had thrummed with stories of their lineage.

Now?

Now, those same walls groaned beneath the weight of ruin, swallowed whole by the void.

She lurched as bile rose bitterly in her throat, her body instinctively recoiling against Cid's crushing grip on her neck. His fingers dug deep, unyielding, shoving her forward through the desolation. The once-glorious palace had been reduced to scattered bones, haunted by twisted, misshapen shadows that seemed to breathe with the wind. Dark figures lurked among the wreckage, their eyes gleaming hungry, patient, as if savoring the despair saturating the air.

Cid's grip tightened, forcing her forward with more aggression until they reached the courtyard. Teshia made a small, strangled sound beside her, her breath sharp and uneven.

Before them, mages and Elders knelt in submission, bound and gagged, their bodies marred with bruises and blood. Their robes, once pristine symbols of wisdom and power, were torn, dirtied beyond recognition. Some trembled, others remained eerily still. And though they could not speak, their eyes screamed—wide with terror, pleading for mercy, a mercy that would never come.

A delighted gasp from Isis cut through the heavy silence, drawing both girls' attention toward the clearing ahead. The atmosphere shifted, thickening with an almost unbearable weight. And then—they saw it.

Towering above the wreckage stood the beast itself.

Its presence was suffocating, an entity so immense that the very air around it seemed to vibrate. A jagged scar carved down its left eye, the flesh around it gnarled and twisted from some old, violent wound. But it was the eyes that sent a pulse of pure dread through Eko's chest—piercing, unnatural yellow, glowing like embers beneath the monstrous mask of its face. It wasn't just looking at them. It was seeing through them, stripping them raw, peeling away every layer until nothing remained but their deepest, most vulnerable truths.

Teshia flinched, trying to inch backward, but Isis's vice-like grip yanked her still. Beside her, Cid shoved Eko forward with ruthless impatience, his fingers digging bruises into her arm. She barely managed to catch her footing before she was forced to her knees at the base of the beast's throne.

A new kind of terror took hold as she felt her head jerked back, her neck locked in Cid's iron grip. The motion was sharp, brutal, exposing the vulnerable curve of her throat. She sucked in a sharp breath, her pulse roaring in her ears as she was forced to meet the beast's gaze.

Its scaled, blackened face twisted with amusement, its lips curling back to reveal a row of dagger-like teeth.

It was grinning.

"Shall we finally begin, Your Highness?" The beast's voice slithered through the air, smooth and mocking, its laughter rich with malice. The words slithered over her skin like oil—suffocating, toxic.

A ripple of raw power pulsed from the creature, warping the space around them.

For the beast, memories bled into the present like an open wound—raw, unrelenting. The battles. The betrayals. The sacrifices that had carved this moment into existence, twisting fate into an inevitable cycle.

This close to the crystal—the heart of it all—its power thrummed beneath the surface, tantalizingly near. A prize pursued over lifetimes, lying just beyond the fragile body of the queen of this time.

He remembered.

He remembered how, in another timeline, another fractured existence, victory had been within reach—so close, so inevitable—only to be stolen. Snatched away at the final moment, wrenched from his fate by an unworthy defiance. The crystal had been in his grasp, a breath away from eternity, only to slip like sand through his fingers.

But not this time.

This time, there would be no interference. No unexpected defiance. No foolish resistance standing in the way of destiny.

This time, he would not fail.

His pulse surged, his resolve a crushing force that bent the very air around him. The past would not repeat. The future, the present—it would all be rewritten by his hand.

This time, the crystal would be his.

His gaze swept over the battlefield, over the broken queen forced to her knees before him.

Here, he thought with satisfaction, was where the true crystal had remained hidden all these years.

Here, the child had lived, unknowingly guarding it until his return.

And now, his time had come.

***** *****

Teshia watched in horror as the beast's massive hand settled heavily upon Eko's head, dark incantations rolling from his lips in a voice so deep and guttural it felt like it was vibrating through the very marrow of her bones. Her heart pounded wildly, eyes flicking to Eko, whose body convulsed beneath his grip, the crystals clutched in her hands flaring with a blinding, violent light. Magic lashed out from her skin like wildfire, crackling, untamed, an inferno of raw power being forcefully extracted.

Then came the screams.

Eko's agonized cries ripped through the air, splintering against the cold stone walls surrounding them. The pain in her voice, the sheer, unbearable suffering, sent ice spearing through Teshia's veins. She trembled, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her stomach twisting in horror.

Unable to stop herself, she turned, glancing over her shoulder—and immediately wished she hadn't.

What she saw sickened her to her core.

The beast's followers moved like specters in the gloom, eyes alight with a sinister gleam, their faces twisted into delighted malice as they moved among the kneeling Elders and Mages. And at the flick of the Sorceress's wrist—the slaughter began.

One by one, throats were slit, bodies crumpled to the ground. Those who struggled were met with slow, deliberate executions, their deaths drawn out for nothing more than entertainment. Blood pooled across the ruined courtyard, rivers of crimson carving paths through the dust-laden stone, saturating the air with the thick, metallic stench of death.

Teshia choked back the bile rising in her throat, her body trembling so violently she could barely remain upright.

Eko's screams grew louder.

Each cry was more ragged, more desperate, echoing like the dying wail of something being slowly, mercilessly torn apart. The beast's incantations grew louder, faster, his power leeching into her, his fingers pressing against her skull as if willing to crush her into submission. And still, the crystals burned.

The light they emitted was fierce, but fractured, erratic—something was wrong. The power wasn't flowing properly. It flickered, spasmed, pushed against the beast's command.

And then, Eko screamed again—but this time, it wasn't just pain.

Teshia's breath hitched in her throat. It was something else.

A force unlike anything she had ever felt before.

The beast snarled, his grip tightening, frustration flashing across his grotesque, scarred face. "Stay still, girl!" he barked, his magic pressing harder, trying to force the power into submission.

But the crystals pulsed, surging like a heartbeat—resisting, rebelling, fighting back. Rejecting him.

Teshia's gaze dropped to the corpses littering the ground, their lifeless faces staring blankly at the blood-soaked heavens. This wasn't just a massacre. This wasn't about killing for the sake of war.

This was a ritual.

They were bleeding magic into the earth, fueling something else.

***** *****

Matthew's arrival at Allegiant sent a ripple of unease through the academy. Though the orders had already been given, something shifted the moment his fingers wrapped around the crystal. The protective magic that had long encased Allegiant shuddered—then dissolved, unraveling into the air like mist burning away under the sun.

No one truly understood the power that safeguarded Allegiant. It had been shrouded in secrecy for months, kept hidden even from those who called it home. And now, just like that—it was gone.

Standing alone in the dark, subterranean core of Allegiant—where the crystal had remained untouched, feeding power to the entire network—Matthew stared at it, his breath steady despite the storm brewing beneath his skin. The faint pulse of light beneath its smooth surface mirrored his own heartbeat, a steady thrumthrumthrum, deliberate and unyielding.

His steel-blue eyes darkened with intent.

Then, he clenched the crystal tightly.

And the world detonated.

The surge hit like a tidal wave, crashing into his body with unrelenting force. A guttural sound ripped from his throat as power exploded through him, slamming his head back, blinding his vision with searing light. His veins ignited, raw energy sizzling through his nerves, scorching its way through every fiber of his being.

It burned—hot and untamed—like liquid fire, curling around his lungs until every breath felt like an inferno.

Poundpoundpound.

Matthew's pulse slammed against his ribs, a violent, frenzied rhythm that pounded through his entire body. His breath hitched, sharp and uneven, as if his lungs were struggling against the force tearing through him. The crystal's energy coiled around his heart, squeezing, twisting—rewiring something deep within him.

A relentless, unnatural force surged through his veins, setting his muscles on fire, his body trembling under the weight of it. His teeth clenched, his vision blurred at the edges, and for the first time in a long time, a flicker of unease crawled up his spine.

Something felt wrong.

Like his body couldn't keep up.

Like something inside him was straining—cracking under the pressure, and as the energy raged through him, his heartbeat remained erratic—wild, unsteady, dangerously uneven.

But it did not fade.

It only grew louder.

Poundpoundpound.

Matthew's head lolled forward, his breath ragged, his body caught in a brutal battle against itself. "Get a fucking grip," Matthew snarled through gritted teeth. The crystal's energy was unrelenting. It burrowed into him, sinking deep into the marrow of his bones, fusing with every fiber of his existence. It demanded submission. It craved dominion.

Matthew denied it.

His breath came in sharp, uneven gasps as he wrestled to dominate the overwhelming surge of magic, his fingers clenching around the crystal like it was the only thing anchoring him to reality. The energy pulsed violently, resisting him, before finally surrendering—fading into his skin, sinking deep into his core. The power became his.

Yet he knew he had pushed too far. Taken in too much. He could feel it in the erratic, unsteady rhythm of his heart, the way it slammed against his ribs—wild, unstable. A sharp pain knifed through his chest, fleeting but unmistakable, a warning his body was begging him to heed.

But there was no turning back. No stopping now.

His steel-blue eyes snapped open, no longer holding their usual sharpness but something deeper—something unnatural, something not entirely his. The pounding in his skull dulled to a distant thrum, his breath evening as he forced his body to submit.

Not to the crystal.

To him.

The consequences would come later—the toll on his body, the inevitable collapse that lurked beneath the surface, waiting to strike.

None of it mattered.

Only one thing burned in his mind.

Save Sera. At all costs

Poundpoundpound.

With a snap of his power, the very air around him cracked, collapsing inward.

And then—

He was gone.

The moment Matthew's boots struck the marble floors of Allegiant, the grand hall erupted in a storm of voices. The board had been waiting for him, Jesse, Toni and Richie had been waiting for him with the council.

Not the old council—the ones who had been eradicated mere hours ago in the downfall of headquarters. No, this was the new board. Younger, more arrogant, steeped in self-importance, and utterly blind to the reality of war. They had clawed their way into power, believing themselves to be the future of Allegiant, but they did not understand the stakes.

They despised him—not just for his power, but for what he was. A man forged in blood, in war, in destruction. A living testament to the violence they refused to acknowledge, a walking reminder that Allegiant had never been about politics or bureaucracy—it had been built on the backs of warriors. And yet, they were the ones standing before him now, their pristine uniforms untouched by battle, their faces set in tight-lipped judgment.

Men and women who thought themselves in control, but their presence reeked of politics, of bureaucracy—of cowards.

At their center stood Chancellor Rylan, a man Matthew had tolerated for far too long, draped in his ceremonial robes, his expression severe. His hands were clasped behind his back, but his stance was rigid, tense. They all knew what was coming.

Matthew barely spared Rylan a glance, his steel-blue eyes locked forward, burning with an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through the room.

"Skarsgård," Rylan called again, his voice firmer now, an edge of command creeping into his tone. "Stand down. You cannot and will not take Allegiant into war."

Matthew only stared at him.

Matthew's gaze sliced through them, through their rigid formation, through their delusion that they held any power here. The very idea that they thought they could command him—command any of them—was almost laughable.

"You think I'm asking for permission?"

The weight of his power surged, rippling through the air like an impending storm. The chandeliers above shook, swaying under the invisible force pressing against the walls of Allegiant.

Richie shifted, fingers twitching. Jesse let out a slow breath through her nose, barely suppressing the bored frustration curling at the edges of her expression. Toni took a step forward—not toward the board, but toward Matthew, watching him more closely than anyone else in the grand hallways.

"You answer to me," Matthew snapped, his steel-blue eyes locking onto Rylan's with the precision of a blade pressing against flesh. His voice was a low snarl, slicing through the tension like a razor. "And I am done standing here while our future fucking queen is being tortured. You are wasting time, forcing me to entertain the egos of little boys who think power is something they can wear like a uniform."

A murmur of outrage rippled through the board, a few of them shifting in place, bristling at the insult.

"Little boys?" one of them spat, his face contorted with anger, offense burning in his eyes.

The sentiment was shared among the others. Seven of them stood in rigid defiance, their postures straightening, their expressions hardening. But Matthew barely spared them a glance.

"If you go there, you betray us all," another board member spoke, this one quieter but no less severe. He was only a few years older than Matthew, but carried himself like a man who believed wisdom came with a title rather than experience. His words were heavy, lined with the weight of authority. "Your reckless command will doom her. There are too many moving parts to this kidnapping—things we have yet to uncover. We cannot risk a reaction like this."

Then another stepped forward. Younger. His arrogance was unearned, his face still untouched by the realities of war. He squared his shoulders, puffing up as if the posture alone could make him imposing. "Leaving these walls without direct approval is an act of treason." His voice tried to sound firm, unwavering—but the waver was there, a barely concealed tremor beneath his bravado.

Matthew laughed.

Cold. Sharp. Merciless.

"You think I give a fuck?" he growled, stepping forward, the temperature in the room dropping as his power coiled, heavy and predatory in the air.

The room dimmed, the very air growing heavier under the force of Matthew's presence. Power seethed, pressing against the walls of Allegiant, winding through the chamber like a living thing, suffocating in its intensity. The chandeliers above rattled, their glass pendants trembling in warning. The marble beneath their feet groaned, fracturing in tiny, hairline cracks that spidered outward with each pulse of his fury.

"Sit here," Matthew hissed, his voice a low, venomous snarl. "Rot in your fucking meetings. Debate and deliberate while she's fucking dying up there."

The silence was razor-thin, teetering on the edge of eruption.

His steel-blue eyes cut through the room, glinting with lethal resolve. "No. I will fucking protect her. And I will bring her home."

A sharp breath, a flicker of motion from the other side of the room—then—

"You are the reason she's there!"

Rylan's voice cracked through the tension like a gunshot, his face flushed, the vein at his temple bulging with unchecked rage.

The words landed like a killing blow.

"She has been in your care and this is where she ends up!"

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Jesse flexed her fingers at her sides, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, ready to launch herself forward at the first sign of escalation. Richie rolled his shoulders, his fists tightening, his entire body coiled in barely contained violence. Toni hovered a hand over the hilt of his blade, his jaw clenched tight, his gaze flickering between Rylan and Matthew, waiting for the inevitable fallout.

And Matthew—

Matthew stood still.

Too still.

Not frozen in hesitation, nor in weakness—but in the kind of deadly quiet that came before a storm strong enough to tear the world apart.

The words echoed in his skull, reverberating through every corner of his mind, cutting deep, carving through his very soul like a blade honed on bitter truth. You are the reason she's there.

He had been blind. Too confident. Too ignorant. The realization twisted like a vice in his chest, searing hot, a wound far worse than any blade had ever given him. He hadn't seen it. He hadn't felt it. And that made his blood boil hotter than before.

Rylan was right.

He was the reason she was there.

And nothing—nothing—in this world could make him hate himself more than that.

The weight of it sank deep, deeper than regret, deeper than anger. It became something else. Something raw, something violent. Remorse sharpened into rage.

Matthew lifted his chin, his steel-blue gaze burning as it locked onto Rylan's. "By god's fucking grace, I will get her back to the throne." The words weren't spoken—they were snarled, a guttural promise ripped from somewhere dark and unforgiving.

The room quaked around them as his power surged, no longer contained, no longer leashed. Energy roared to life, a violent, pulsing vortex, crackling like a storm ready to tear through everything in its path. It coiled in the air, suffocating, pressing down on every soul in the room.

"If you leave without surrendering those crystals," another board member wheezed, fighting against the crushing energy, "we will deem you a traitor again the crown, once again Skarsgard you are not sanctioned to do this!"

Matthew laughed.

"Like I said—go fuck yourself."

And then—

The vortex collapsed inward, imploding, swallowing them whole. The air shattered, crackling with a violent burst of energy as their figures blinked out of existence.

In a blinding flash, Matthew, Jesse, Toni, and Richie were gone.

Their fates were sealed. What awaited them was not just war—it was carnage.

Poundpoundpound.

****** 8.35 AM *****

Amid the chaos that had swallowed the city, a lone reporter forced his way through the throng, his camera crew barely managing to keep up. Blood streaked down one side of his face—a grim, smudged reminder of the turmoil he'd battled through to get here. Nothing—the blaring sirens, the shrill cries of panic, the sound of explosions—could stop him from chasing the story that might define this day.

He pushed past desperate civilians clutching battered Isadorian flags, inching closer to the palace gates. The crowd surged like a living tide, raw voices of panic and disbelief rising as one. Overhead, massive screens flickered, streaming live footage of the battle that had ripped apart the city they once knew.

The truth was out

"Douglas Frydenberg, Isadora's Daily News!" he announced, his voice steady but urgent as it echoed across every screen in the capital. The camera zoomed in on his face—sweat mingling with determination in his eyes. "Reporting live from the palace gates: our sources confirm that the footage you're seeing is of her Royal Highness, Princess Seraphina!"

For a moment, his words were swallowed by the roar of the crowd behind him.

"But in the chaos of the exposure, widespread panic has gripped the city," he continued, gesturing broadly toward the mass of people surging forward. The air pulsed with the raw energy of collective hysteria—each passing second etching this day into history.

Then—a sudden struggle.

"Get o—!" a reporter's words were cut off by a violent shove that sent him tumbling out of frame, the camera lurching wildly.

A bloodied young woman with tangled ginger hair burst into view, panting and wide-eyed. "I saw her myself!" she shrieked. "We were hiding in the café—she was right there in the chaos with those monsters, and then, poof! She turned into the princess! She is our princess! I think those warriors have been hiding her all along!"

The camera jolted again as its operator fought to regain control. Another woman surged forward, her voice trembling with horror as she cried, "The poor thing was terrified—beaten, humiliated. Why was she even in hiding? Did everyone know she was being protected?"

Just then, the camera tilted to capture the face of a reporter—Douglas—whose struggle with a civilian for the microphone was audible in the background. A taller man, his face battered and half-bruised, stepped forward and barked, "You know who her husband is, right? Don't be stupid—he knew exactly what he was doing! This was all planned: hiding her, marrying her... just look at the rise to power he's had in the past few years!"

A murmur rippled through the crowd as Douglas wrestled for control of the microphone amid the chaos at the palace gates, the cameraman straining to capture every moment.

"That would make total sense!" a sudden voice piped up. The microphone was snatched from the hands of a young woman with matted ginger hair cut into a neat bob, framing her determined face. "I heard there's some device—a bracelet, no less—that the queen gave her so her daughter could cover up her identity and sneak down to Earth unnoticed. My brother's wife's cousin, a former palace guard, swore it was real!"

Before anyone could process the shocking claim, another figure lurched into view—a disheveled man with dark hair streaked with blood—pushing his way forward as his voice sliced through the mayhem.

Douglas managed to snatch the microphone back. "Alright, who here mentioned something about her husband? Who is she?" he demanded, desperate to piece together every detail before the story went viral

A hand shot up, and Douglas weaved through the crowd until he reached the man who had made the earlier comment. Holding the microphone close, he asked urgently, "Now, what did you say exactly?"

"That's the headmaster of Allegiant's wife, right? He's Ace, isn't he? We all saw him! The princess is his wife, mate!" the man blurted out. 

Silence.

A heavy silence fell over the square, as if the world itself had paused. Douglas managed to regain control of the microphone, pressing his earpiece with a face etched in frantic urgency.

"Jack, confirm this—do we have confirmation?" he barked, his strained voice barely cutting through the ambient chaos. A distant response crackled in his ear—a confirmation.

Before he could speak another word, the camera jostled wildly with the shifting crowd. The feed abruptly tilted upward, capturing the breaking dawn over the capital—a golden-red glow spilling over a city reduced to ruins.

And then—

"Did you see the other soldiers? They were all crystal keepers!" came shouts from panicked civilians. The screens across the Isadorian capital flickered with footage, raw and unfiltered, captured by terrified onlookers in the midst of pandemonium.

"Jack," Douglas pleaded into his earpiece, his tone frantic and electrified, "get me everything on them—now!"

Across the crowd, people froze in collective disbelief. Some whispered in hushed tones, others gasped, while many stared at the carnage playing out on the massive displays—each new clip piecing together a horror they could scarcely comprehend.

"Shit, no way—are you serious?" Douglas managed to gasp as he gathered his thoughts from the incoming reports. He quickly adjusted his tie and snapped at the cameraman, demanding the footage be pulled back to him. Within moments, they were live once more.

"Douglas Frydenberg, Isadora's Daily News," he announced, his voice booming through every screen in the city. He exhaled deeply, steadying himself. This was it—this revelation was going to redefine his career.

"There are confirmed reports from the Royal House that Matthew Skarsgard, Jessica Sheppard, Toni Braxton, and Richie Hendricks have been declared war criminals. The official statement calls for their immediate arrest and trial for the atrocities committed as the Crystal Warriors—known to some as Ace, Chef, Romeo, and G. They are accused of abducting and holding the future queen hostage, and have proven themselves dangerous beyond measure. Authorities are to be contacted immediately with any information regarding their whereabouts."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd as the massive screens above splashed their faces across the city, damning headlines branding them as wanted war criminals.

Then—BOOM.

An earsplitting explosion tore through the sky, snatching the broadcast from the screens and plunging the moment into chaos. The world seemed to hold its breath as every head snapped upward.

High above, a fiery red fissure slashed across a distant planet suspended in the heavens. For one terrible, weightless moment, time itself stood still—every heartbeat echoing the impending doom.

Then everything erupted into chaos.

A catastrophic detonation shattered the morning skies. The benign moon exploded in a maelstrom, sending a shockwave tearing through the atmosphere like a monstrous ripple that robbed every onlooker of their breath. Flames and debris streaked the sky, transforming it into a raging tempest of hellfire and ash. The anguished screams of thousands filled the streets, as if the very heavens were aflame.

Douglas stumbled backward, his microphone clattering to the ground as civilians cried out in terror. A mother clutched her child, her eyes wide with unspeakable horror. A man sank to his knees, his mouth moving in silent anguish as his gaze fixed on the inferno that devoured the sky.

And then—nothing.

For a heart-stopping moment, every onlooker froze. Their faces were bathed in the red and golden glow of destruction as the shattered remnants of the distant moon cascaded across the heavens like falling, dying stars.

The eerie silence that followed was broken only by the distant wail of alarms and the low, guttural hum of a planet coming to terms with the unthinkable.