Naomi's world was twisted with agony and anger, her vision blinking with purple spikes of light. Every breath she took rendered white-hot throughout her body; in both the wound of where the ice had struck her, and her heart. In the brief glimpses where violet lights flashed away from her vision, she could see the dark stone ceilings of Calypsa Castle blurring above her.

Sensations beyond her pain were dull but sensible, feeling the sway of herself cradled against someone's arms as they ran with a limp. Through the haze she caught a glimpse of Cassien's face above hers, sweating and streaked with blood and fatigue. His left eye glinted with a spark of purple light in the exact same shade in which her vision began to re-obscure with. She tried to pull away, panic flaring at the sight of him, but her limbs were disobedient and weak.

"Naomi," his voice rasped from above her, her vision returning once more to the present. "Please stop fighting me. We need to get out of here."

His voice enraged her. She refused to obey him; her fractured mind could only replay Seraphine's dying face, the strike of the icicle, and the horror of watching him pull the stolen shard from his pocket. Fear and fury rolled together in a combustible storm, and all logic and reasoning was gone. She summoned what strength remained, forcing a surge of golden light from her palm.

"No," Naomi growled.

A blast of radiance exploded from her, unfocused, striking the floor in front of them in a shower of sparks, but it was enough to stagger his ragged sprint. He stumbled as Naomi flew from his grasp, crashing hard against the cold floor. Stars of pain exploded behind her closed eyes as she felt the crack of her head against a wall, stopping her momentum. When she forced her eyes open, it was as if her world had fractured between two different visions.

In her left vision, Cassien lay on the cold stone, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His dark cloak was torn and bloomed with dark stains all over. He pressed a hand against his shoulder, grit clinging to his golden gaze as he struggled to lift himself upright.

In her right eye, a silvery blonde woman lay splayed against a columned wall, strands of pale hair soaked in blood. The figure gasped for breath as raspy and desperately as she did, her lips stained red and eyes wide with fear. She raised her hand towards the woman - and the woman mimicked the exact motion back. Naomi gasped in startling realization that she was looking at herself.

Then, like the snapping of thread, her perception came back as normal - just in time to make out the gleam of breastplates and the flash of filigreed weaponry. Imperial guards poured into the corridor, led by General Thaddeus's broad figure and Ser Finneus. Behind them came Cassien's own knights, faces grim but determined.

"Secure the hall!" General Thaddeus barked, voice booming off the walls, the stampede of boots throughout the room.

Within moments the corridor was transformed into a charge of armored movement and shouts, led by the royal colours of the Imperial army. Guards surged forward, driven by the General's command, scouring every corner.

"Up ahead!" One of the soldiers called out just as a crackling bolt of crimson energy whizzed through the air, striking him dead in the chest. The singed smell of acrid flesh wafted in the air, the hole in his body sizzling.

The army halted in disbelief at the sight of the fallen man. As they looked up, from the shadows emerged first King Alistair with his strapped bronze armor, eyes smoldering like molten jade. His battleaxe was bathed in a glow of malignant red aura strapped from behind him, and even the veins that pulsed through his skin was a hideous shade of crimson. His deadly aura was palpable, twisted - and entirely within his control. His warriors surrounded behind him, their eyes glinting with bloodlust as some licked the edge of their blades, flexing and ready for battle.

General Thaddeus raised his glaive and broke the stunned silence. "Hold the line! Keep them back!"

The Imperial army snapped back into focus as they rallied into a shield-wall, their formation impeccable as both shields and weaponry locked in from shoulder to shoulder. The King merely threw his head back in mocking laughter as he raised his hand in a clenched fist.

A bloodthirsty grin slid across his face. "Kill them all." His eyes met Naomi's, and her heart froze in horror. "Except the Duchess."

Kill….? Naomi recoiled in horror, or she would've if she could move.

Seraveth warriors charged forward like savage orcs, sweeping great weapons above their towering bodies. Even under the sturdy formation of their barricade, the warriors barreled through like cannon through wood, bodies and shields bursting through the air in arcs. One guard's helm split open under the force of a greatsword's reckless attack; another staggered back as a Seravethian threw him against his own comrades that collapsed in a heap.

General Thaddeus surged past his fallen command, striking forward with a thunderous clash of his glaive against bronze, over and over - sparks showering - before overpowering the warriors with sheer force. With an opening created by their general, Imperial soldiers took advantage and swung the tide back to their favor.

"Enough," Alistair growled, and swept a hand across the air as a wave of red energy rippled through, sending the Calypsans across the air. Thaddeus slammed into a column, eyes rolling back as he dropped to the ground, stunned.

Naomi's mind scrambled, splintered in pieces - confusion, fury, heartbreak. Though most prominently was regret for doubting Cassien, and a deep, fiery hatred for herself.

It was never him, Naomi wailed inwardly. He tricked us. Tricked me. How had he falsified everything?

Her mind flashed to the night at the library, horrified at her stupidity and lack of foresight. Alistair had been close by, and she had stood with the pearl bird pressed against the tablet. Somehow, at some point, he must've swooped it from her touch. He stole it.

And now, if Cassien had it - he must've thought of her as either unfaithful or a snake.

Alistair stalked towards Naomi with a glowing red aura, shouts of pain and steel meeting steel rang through the corridor as Calypsan soldiers fell back, unable even to touch him. In a sudden silver blur, a knight lunged forward with a cleaving strike, in which the monarch simply halted with the bare of his fist. Finneus stood head to head with the Seravethian King, sword against hand, his full strength extended. Alistair's eyes flickered with amusement - and deep cruelty - and Naomi spotted the twitch in the King's fingers beside him.

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"Look out!" Naomi called out. She forced herself on both feet, head swirling, as she pointed outwards.

A ray of light shot out from her palm, striking Alistair in the shoulder as he staggered backwards - though she was not fast enough to intervene. Finneus was flung backwards like a rag doll, his sword skittering across the stone as he crashed against a wall. Smoke wafted from Alistair's armor, having just barely missed his flesh in her weakened state. He strode forward as she tried in vain to scramble away, foot slick against bloodied floors.

"You," he breathed deeply, grabbing her face with an iron grip, lifting her body with a single arm so that her feet dangled helplessly in the air. "could serve me far better alive than dead. The radiance to my red during Seraveth's rebirth."

She held her stare defiantly as her nails dug into his hands, choking out her words. "I would rather die."

He smirked as his hand tightened, the pressure excruciatingly painful on her jaw. "A shame. But that is easily arranged." His hand moved to her throat before slamming her against the ground, thick fingers wrapping around her windpipe.

Naomi's hands clawed feebly at his tough skin, pale eyes wide as tears streamed down her face. Her magic sputtered in a last ditch effort, searing his face just enough to turn his skin red - her body too battered to sunder any more.

A sickening smirk twisted his lips. "Nice try, little bird. But there's no use fighting. I will break you," he snapped, grip tightening just as her vision began to black out. "Just like-"

Icy beams shot into Alistair's side with brutal force, knocking the king clean off of the duchess and crashing into a wave of his own warriors. The flesh of his skin was blackened with instant frostbite, crystalized shards as large as daggers embedded deep within him.

Cassien drew a ragged breath as frost gathered around him, as he planted himself firmly between the furious king and the unconscious Naomi. He felt the sting behind his left eye ease into a steady dullness. His shoulder, wrenched from its socket, stiffened as ice wove through the joint, binding it in a brittle brace. Even the gash in his thigh sealed itself beneath a glaze of frost, pain retreating into icy numbness. The icicles in Alistair's side rattled before bursting into mist as the king staggered upright, fury warping his face as blood pooled at his side.

"Rivain! Shall we test our skills once more?!" He roared, red light crackling around him.

Cassien slid his sword from his hip, frost forming around the metal like petals of ice. "I will not hold back this time."

"Neither will I," Alistair snarled as he reached for his axe, veins pulsing.

Behind Cassien, Finneus had shaken off the pain and knelt beside Naomi's limp form, urgency in his eyes as he pressed two fingers to her neck to find a pulse. When he felt its faint flutter, relief flooded him. He tilted her head back and hovered his ear above her mouth for signs of breath - though there was not even a gentle rise of her chest. His in-field medical training kicked in, albeit limited, and lifted her chin upwards. Finneus pinched her nostrils closed and covered her mouth with his own, pushing in gentle yet firm breaths in an attempt to resuscitate her.

Cassien and Alistair circled each other in the corridor, frost staining the stone beneath them as the blur of their respective soldiers fought in the background. Alistair lunged first with a barbaric strike; steel rang as Cassien parried, sending shards of ice scattering like fractured stars across the floor. Each strike between them was a clash of red and white - Alistair's inferno of blood against Cassien's frozen tempest. Every droplet of red that touched Cassien's skin caused it to split and ooze, draining his already depleting stamina. But still, he surged onward, ignoring every alarm in his body that screamed for him to stop. The frost pattern beneath their feet hummed quietly.

Almost….

The King feinted low, sweeping his battleaxe in an upwards arc. The gash of Cassien's thigh split open slightly, throwing off his balance. He caught the blade a fraction too late, the extra momentum ripping the sword from his hands. Alistair pressed the advantage, unleashing a wave of red energy that curled around Cassien's side, searing through his protection and rending his flesh so harshly it felt like it was being torn from his bone.

He stumbled to one knee, his head lowered in feigned defeat. Alistair howled with laughter. "You disappoint me! I expected much more from the Duke of-"

Shut. Up.

A pulse of ice rocketed upward from the frosted patterns on the ground, shards snapping together into a towering cage of crystalline bars around the King; some of the spikes jutted inwards from the sides, stabbing into his flesh in necrotizing agony. The bars gleamed so purely that every shades of red and steel around glimmered in its reflections.

Several Seravethian warriors took notice of their caged leader, dropping their bloodied opponent to rush towards him. "Free him! Free the king!"

"No! You fools!" Alistair bellowed through clenched teeth, but the Imperial soldiers seized the opportunity - driving their weapons deep into the backs of the attackers.

In that moment, the thunder of stomps and war cries blared through the hall as fresh battalions poured through; reinforcements in the dozens. With a furious roar, Alistair gripped a section of the cage wall, red magic flaring from his palms as it burst through the frost with the combined effort of his forces. His eyes swept the tide of incoming steel advancing on them in Calypsan colours - an entire army of Tudor forces - it was a signal to leave. A cold smile curved his lips as he motioned for his men to depart. He had hoped more could be conquered on this night, but his primary objective had been assured: the power of the Moonshard was absorbed.

Seravethians immediately fell in formation, a human shield for their monarch as the army descended upon them. "Hold fast! Cover his escape!"

Cassien forced himself up at the sight of Alistair beginning to escape, his jaw set with determination, but his injured leg gave way beneath him. He collapsed hard onto the floor, chest heaving, his body laced with sweat.

"Your Grace!" Armored soldiers caught him from around the chest, careful to avoid his injuries. Cassien leaned heavily against them, every inch of his body screaming in pain as he watched the King of Seraveth depart.

Alistair strode toward a window facing outwards towards the harbor, his men taking each blow meant for him as they used their own bodies as shields. Arrows plunked deftly into their flesh, swords jabbing inwards to their bellies; but each warrior was unfazed to die for their kingdom. Raising both arms, Alistair wove his magic into a single, violent gust as stone and glass exploded outward like a rain of blood.

He leapt through the newly made breach, his hulking body vanishing into the night as his loyal warriors fought on behind him, each a sacrificial lamb, determined to shield their king until the final boat slipped from the harbor. From the distance, the bells tolled with yet another alarm of distress for citizens to hide; the burst of cannon sounds from either castle or ship were entirely indistinguishable.

The treasured hall of Calypsa Castle was in total ruin; shattered bodies laid in total red across the ground in the dozens, intricate tapestries torn to shreds and barely staying hung atop cracked columns and dented walls. Imperial soldiers fanned out to search for survivors until a contingent returned bearing Prince Aryn, unconscious and bruised; Princess Seraphine, her condition shrouded in silence and uncertainty. But Cassien's gaze was all too consumed at the sight of Naomi, limp and all too deathly pale; her silver-blonde hair was matted and thick with dried blood, her neck covered in dark purple prints from where the king's sadistic grip had been.

He was far out of reach from her, but still his fingers trembled, desperate to cradle her cheek. But his emotions tugged him back, and the stone walls that had been erected for years before ever even laying eyes on her had begun to reform once more. The world began to tilt before him as the adrenaline wore off, the full extent of his injuries consuming him at once.

The room spun as every shout around him became a distant ring, and the floor rushed up to meet him. Cassien's eyes clung to Naomi's broken form as the final ember of his strength flickered out, blanketing him beneath a tide of black.

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