Columns of flames and bursts of explosions. Those moments after she had drunk the Draught of Ent had been nothing short of hellish. Why it had happened, she had no idea, but the scene taken straight out of an apocalypse was nothing short of its name.

The scenery from the balcony was quite a sight. Magma which spewed from underneath the ground, creating channels in which it could flow. The faint lights coming from buildings turning off, replaced by the sounds of a violent wind ravaging through the area. Smoulders of chaos visible from where she stood.

Worse yet, was the current condition of the royal palace. Explosions filled up the sky, sharp bursts of loud sound going on and off at random. She could hear the screams of the people who were attending the feast, as well as the loud noises of combat. Swords and shields clashing, bows and spears colliding.

Something else she had to worry about, the current state of Servant, who immediately froze when the explosion went out. His eyes turning blank, almost lifeless, reacting to nothing as they stared out into space. Why now?!

Lillian went into a state of panic, tightly grabbing onto her pouch and going up to Feyrith. Before she did anything else, she needed to get her partner out of whatever state he was in. “Servant! Wake up!” She yelled in his ears. “Feyrith!” Shaking him frantically, she continued shouting, but to no avail.

She groaned and looked up into the sky, racking her brain for what she needed to do next. Think! What do I do now?

Obsessively tapping her fingers, she reached into her pouch and took out her journal, opening a blank page and scribbling down her thoughts. Soon, the page was filled with incoherent drawings and remnants of handwriting, but Lillian’s head was now clear.

Sweat ran down her forehead, a testament to the heat protruding through the balcony, which, until now, she hadn’t noticed. A firm look on her face, she walked back up to Feyrith, ignoring any of the sensations affecting her body.

“Feyrith!” She shouted into his ears, when slowly Feyrith’s eyes dilated and he returned from his trance. He otherwise had a cool, collected expression on his face, giving Lillian some sense of reassurance of their safety through this unexpected event.

“I apologise. I don’t know what came over me.” He spoke.

“It doesn’t matter. For now, let’s go.” She quickly spoke, turning heel and facing the glass doorway leading back to the main hall. With a bated breath, she walked forward, ignoring the burning hot handle of the door and creaking it open.

She slowly opened the door, revealing the disastrous state of the main hall. Just from the corridor leading into it, she spotted people running around, blood staining the floor and flames singeing the walls. As she walked slowly and quietly past the door and into a tight corridor, Lillian peeked her head and closely observed the current situation.

It was, as expected from the sounds she heard, especially with the retinue of knights, their futile attempts to calm down the fleeing guests and fend off the instigators of the attack.

Their faces were hidden under the large black hoods of large, indigo cloth robes lined with red strings. In their hands were a variety of weapons, maces, swords, bow, staffs, and more Lillian couldn’t list on the top of her head.

Demiurge. That uniform was familiar to Lillian, as too was it to Feyrith, as his eyes widened upon seeing them. The main baddies of Tower of Pandora, the big, bad, evil boss, the cult of demiurge. Why are they here, though?

She interrupted her thoughts and instead turned to Feyrith. “Can you do something?” She whispered under her breath.

He nodded in reply and grabbed her shoulder, putting his mouth up to her ear. “Trust me.” As he spoke, he pushed her out of the corner, putting her right in front of the cultists and running nobles.

Just slightly shocked, Lillian composed herself and reached her hand into her pouch, pulling out a small dagger and placing it under her dress.

“Who the hell are you?!” One of the cultists yelled in a muddled, distorted voice, turning the attention of the corridor on Lillian. Staying calm, she began to walk backward, making it seem like she was trying to escape from the situation she was in.

“Princess!” One of the knights yelled out, as he raised a sword and stabbed into the chest of one of the cultists, the latter’s body falling limply on the ground. Lillian felt her gut threaten to empty itself at this sight, but remained calmed and continued walking backwards.

“The princess!” One of the cultists yelled out with joyous splendour.

“We finally found you.” The cultist spoke in an eerie tone, stepping forward and briskly moving in Lillian’s direction. “Thank you for saving us the problem of searching for you.”

As the cultist neared the princess, the nearby knights stopped what they were doing and turned their attention to him. “Intercept him! We can’t let them capture the princess!” The retinue leader shouted. “Run princess!”

Lillian didn’t obey but instead stood at a standstill, her feet frozen in place as the cultist got closer and closer to her. His comrades didn’t allow the knights to come to the rescue of their princess, both parties trying their hardest to destroy the other’s plans. Fools.

She reached down under her dress and tightly gripped the dagger she retrieved earlier. Damn Feyrith. First he was dazed, now he’s making me do this.

Confident in her combat abilities, she was not. The druid phantom was one thing, but a group of mortals was another. There was a reason she turned to Feyrith instead of trying to brute force her way through the corridor. Knowing that the cultists she was faced with were extremely powerful, given as they were able to stand against the knights of Silverveil, she wanted to avoid confrontation as much as possible. This much is fine, though.

“PRINCESS!” the head knight yelled out. The cultist neared her and reached out his hand to grab Lillian by the shoulder, but before he could, she moved.

Schlick.

She aimed her dagger toward the cultist’s arm, specifically the area in-between his arm and hand. With a single swift movement, the dagger cut through his skin, sending a stream of blood down his forearm.

“ARGH!” He yelled out, the cultist’s face distorted in anger and pain. If there’s one thing Lillian had learned throughout her life, it was that no matter if you were a toddler or a soldier, all surprise attacks hurt the same.

Without any pause, she moved again, lifting her dress, and sending a kick toward the cultist’s stomach. With a satisfying thump, the cultist fell to the ground, giving Lillian leeway to use her dagger once more.

Krck.

One simple attack, a stab toward the stomach, and the cultist was completely knocked out, blood flowing out of his stomach. He wouldn’t die, nor would the pain stay with him for a long time, but for now, Lillian had opened a path for her and Feyrith to move forward.

The cultists fighting with the guards had become distracted by the sudden counterattack from the princess; in shock at their comrade being knocked to the ground. That small distraction had been all the knights needed to turn the battle fully in their favour, overpowering the cultists.

“Are you ok, princess?!” The head knight came up to Lillian and kneeled, blood running down his arms and brushes on his face. Lillian was once more reminded by the loyalty of the knights the kingdom hired, impressed by their dedication to her and other’s safety, even in injury.

“Please do not worry about me, sir…” Lillian spoke, trailing off at the end, not knowing the knight’s name.

“This one’s name is Fes Darthen, your highness.” The knights spoke.

“Yes, thank you for your held sir Darthen.” Lillian spoke. “As well as the rest of your knights.”

Fes the head knight lowered his head and bowed deeper, before standing up and turning to his squad. “Regroup everyone! Cuff all of these cretins and throw them in the north cell!”

““YES SIR!”” They replied in unison. As Fes was about to turn back to Lillian, out of the corridor came Feyrith, with a small flicker of flame on his finger.

“Who are you!?” Fes yelled toward Feyrith. Lillian watched her partner continue to walk up to her with a languid, cold expression, the flame on his finger growing and shrinking in rhythm. “Answer me!”

Feyrith did not reply to Lillian’s confusion, but snapped his fingers. The flicker on his finger disappeared, and the world was silent for but a moment. Walking past her and the knight, just like a phantom, Feyrith crouched down near the unconscious body of the earlier cultist. His eyes were completely dull, but not in a trance like earlier.

Feyrith held on to the cultist’s arm and lifted it up, revealing the numerous rings on his hand. Plucking one of them off the cultist’s finger, Feyrith placed a black and red studded ring on his finger.

Then he snapped his fingers.

Boom!

An explosion rang out nearby, drawing the attention of the knights. In those short, fleeting moments, Feyrith kicked off the ground, a fireball appearing on the palm of his heel. Just as Fes turned around, Feyrith sent his palm toward Fes’ stomach, knocking the knight back just slightly.

Bam!

Fes’ eyes widened as he turned his head to Feyrith, who had his palm placed over Fes’ head. Just before Fes could begin to do anything, a faint, yellow light shone from Feyrith’s palm, as Fes’ eyes began to close. One of the red studs on the ring Feyrith harvested earlier turned black, the light going away.

Lillian watched all of this happen in the matter of seconds, her eyes following Feyrith as he continued moving.

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go.” Feyrith beckoned her.

“What you did was counter-intuitive to what we need to do.” Lillian said with a firm tone.

“What I did was be efficient. You’re the one who bothered to act like a princess.” Feyrith replied.

“I apologise for my bluntness, but we both are really in a rush.” He said in a sorry tone, eyes sombre. “We can’t let things like this get in our way.”

“…” Lillian stood there, staring into his eyes. “Apology accepted.”

“Princess! Are you okay?!” One of the knights yelled, running toward her and Feyrith, his sword readied. Feyrith held out his palm again, the same yellow light from earlier shining from it.

Thud.

As the knight was running, his eyes suddenly closed, and he fell on the floor. Feyrith nodded in satisfaction, beginning to walk toward the rest of the knights.

Their eyes turned to him and like clockwork Feyrith held out his palms, more light emitting from it. Then, time repeated itself all over again; the knights falling victim to Feyrith’s spell. More of the red studs on his ring went black, the whole ring losing colour.

Other than the knights, the nearby people also fell on the ground, the room falling silent amidst the chaotic sight. He then walked toward the fallen bodies of the palace guests, aiming for an ornate sword lying on the ground. He picked it up and tossed it over to Lillian, the sword impaling itself into the ground in front of her.

She held its handle and pulled it out, the heavy short-sword comfortable in her hand. Feyrith looked into the further corridors and waved his hand, giving the ok for Lillian to come over.

She was amazed by the power of his status spells. She had a theory, but she wanted to confirm what made it so strong.

“I’ve been meaning to ask.” She spoke up. “How are your drowsing spells so powerful?”

“This.” Feyrith replied, holding out the ring he took from the cultist’s body. “It’s a rare drop from heads. Provides a large boost to status spells, limited-use, but still helpful.”

It was just as she had guessed, though something else still bothered her about the ring.

“How did you know which one to take?” She asked.

Instead of replying, Feyrith tapped under his eyes. In a few short moments, his pupils turned from gold to a deep crimson red, a black emblem shaped like a scale appearing on it.

“Truth seeking-eyes…” Lillian muttered. Of course, that’s what it was. She was about to say something more, but before she could, a loud explosion rang from her side.

Crash!

Out of a wall came a large beast, with two sharp, curled horns and angry red eyes. It stood on its two hind legs, its large muscly arms holding on to a gigantic battle-axe. Body bloodied and battered, the monsters looked like it was on its last legs, but as soon as it laid eyes on Lillian and Feyrith, its eyes began to flare.

With its goat-like body, it leapt off the ground and charged toward the two, aiming its axe down. Lillian quickly stepped in front of Feyrith, lifting her sword up to defend herself. She had done it on instinct, knowing that Feyrith couldn’t possibly get out of the way quick enough.

Her stance held with a held breath, and quickly regretting her decision, Lillian firmed her will and took on the incoming monster face-on.

Shing. Krchk.

Before she got to, though, a sharp projectile flew in front of her face. A silver tip and wooden handle. The weapon wasn’t an arrow, but a spear, one that collided with the monster’s body, impaling into the wall.

From the wall at Lillian’s side came a figure, dressed in armour and wielding a great-looking spear. Adelaide. There were light injuries all over her body, but nothing close to the amount of blood drenched into her armour.

“Lillian, Feyrith, are you two, ok?” She asked, walking up to them as soon as she saw their tense face.

Inspecting both Lillian’s and Feyrith’s bodies, she nodded and turned back to the monster. She walked up to its pinned body and grabbed the spear by her side, impaling it into the beast’s head.

Krck.

A guttural, visceral sound rang out as the monster’s body went limp, its battle-axe falling onto the ground. Adelaide pulled out both her spears and flicked the blood off their tips.

“Come with me.” She spoke, turning to Lillian and Feyrith. The two nodded to each other and began walking, with Feyrith sneakily throwing his ring onto the ground.

Then Adelaide began to move, going forward through the hallway leading back to the main hall.