Bwooom.

A giant claw came crashing down into the ground, turning soil upwards like a great shovel. 

A pair of black wings spread out, casting a shadow even half-bent and broken. And yet of all the things to disturb the moonlight, the greatest came from the newly reattached head upon the wyvern’s neck.

But that wasn’t the most notable feat.

No … it’d be how a creature lacking lips was capable of breaking into a megomaniac’s smirk.

“Heh … heheh … hahahaha … hahahahahah … !”

Oh, excellent.

The number one most bizarre thing to happen tonight. 

How lovely to get that out of the way promptly.

“Fools. Pitiful fools!” said the peasant as veins of glowing scarlet dribbled from the seam of its newly attached head. “I am Eucian of the Stars. And I have seen into magic deeper and darker than any of you could possibly imagine!”

“Ooooh~” Coppelia stood on her tip-toes, hands to her brow as she studied the wyvern with newly invigorated interest. “This one’s new. Blood magic was always the extreme end of forbidden magic, so not a lot is documented. It looks like self-necromancy. That’s amazing!”

“I am more than any sword can hope to quell! I have pierced the veil and taken from that which has never been stolen from before! The years I have spent toiling in the dirt was only to dig for secrets buried so deep they were forgotten even by the spirits of those who sought to hide them!”

Crack.

Suddenly, the bent and broken wings unbent and unbroke themselves, twisting unnaturally before sending a powerful gale over us. 

A gale which didn’t stop as he rose into the sky.

I placed my hand atop my hair, shielding my delicate strands as daisies ripped from the soil. All the while, Coppelia held out her arm, preventing the rest of myself from being sent hurtling back as well.

“I am the Final Ending! I cast aside my name and adopt this anew! Let all the lands near and afar know this as their new god! The undying night has arrived, and with it, all traces of light will be removed! The sun shall shatter and the moon made a servant to my whim!”

I pointed at the elven woman.

“You! Snow Dancer! Be useful! Go die needlessly while I stand here and watch!”

“I already chopped off his head!” she said indignantly. “I’ve done my part!”

“Well, I’ve already sent a thousand tonnes of stone tumbling onto him!” 

The Snow Dancer and I immediately turned to Coppelia.

She looked between us both, tilted her head innocently, then held up a hand.

“Rock, paper, scissors,” she said, smiling sweetly. “Two rounds, last one standing.”

Coppelia immediately curled her hand into a ball, the confidence of a serial winner scribbled on her face as she issued her challenge.

For a moment, the Snow Dancer and I stared at her, unblinking.

And then–

“Rock, paper, scissors, go!!!”

I looked down at the results.

A moment later, I clicked my tongue as I prepared myself against the Snow Dancer.

“That was a practice round,” I declared. 

“I thought so too,” replied the Snow Dancer, rolling her shoulders.

“Hear the harpers weep as their lutes break within their hands! All the songs shall be of my wings as I sweep aside the last flames of hope! All the melody shall be of failing hope as I tear the land and split the oceans!”

“He’s only halfway through his monologue,” said Coppelia, stretching casually as she watched from her gold medalist’s podium. “You two can take your time if you need to prepare!”

“That won’t be necessary,” I answered, preparing my winning hand. “... Rock, paper, scissors, go!!”

I looked down at the results.

“Oho … ohohoho … I ... I intended to lose! To expend all my effort and intelligence on a childish game is beneath someone with as high a stature as I! There would be as much honour in besting either of you as there would be in trampling an infant in hide and seek!”

“You can do it!” said Coppelia, hopping as she applauded my deliberate valour. “You might not be able to fly, breathe fire or die repeatedly, but you can do it!~”

“Yeah! Go do your crazy wind thing!” added the Snow Dancer, both fists clenched in shameless delight at how I purposefully lost to her.

“Oh, that thing?” replied Coppelia. “It’s called [Ball Of Doom].”

“[Ball Of Doom]! What an amazing name! Use the [Ball Of Doom]!”

“It is not called [Ball Of Doom]!” I said, despairing at even a single other soul hearing Coppelia’s absurd naming conventions. “Please don’t give my delicate gardening techniques names which are open to misinterpretation!”

All I received were looks of excitement instead.

Ugh. I couldn’t even complain. Their rapture was only appropriate. 

Naturally, I’d greatly prefer if it didn’t involve my delicate gardening techniques being utilised for purposes other than tending to my orchard …

But I was Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea … and I currently had an audience!

“Very well!” I said, adhering to popular demand by raising Starlight Grace, its length shimmering like a star amidst the night. “Watch and be dazzled! I will use all my ingenuity and foresight to bring this cockroach down to the soil where it belongs!”

“Yaaaay!~”

“Wooooo!!”

I smiled as I took my place amidst the swaying grass, not allowing my very real concerns to betray the fanfare directed towards me.

Indeed, though I was many things, a siege ballista I was not.

To fell a black wyvern from the sky, even one worn as a mere guise, was no easy feat. They were terrors which scorched the earth like caterpillars ravaged my peonies. Were a band of heroes to drag a wyvern’s head before my father’s seat, they would be applauded and acclaimed before being thrown into the dungeons for dirtying the floor.

Ingenuity, intelligence and discretion was required to bring down this foe.

And mine came in portable form.

“… Coppelia! Deploy the mailbox!”

“Mailbox deploying!~”

Duly obliging, Coppelia fitted a fold-up mailbox into the soil before me.

Satisfied that my intricate response was now complete, I narrowed my eyes as I peered up … and up … and even further up.

A giant silhouette framing out the moon. 

A creature as black in heart as it was in form. 

I didn’t know whether it was malice or magic which held it aloft, but neither concerned me. 

All which mattered was that the nights in my kingdom were as beautiful as the day. And that currently, this blot in the sky was preventing my audience from fully appreciating the wild bluebells which shone in the moonlight.

A problem, then.

This blot in the sky was considerably far away.

“My gaze has pierced the tapestry of existence and threaded it as my own! I have seen the horrors woven into the world and torn the stitchings as my own! The darkness you fear is the mantle of godhood draped across my shoulders!”

For a moment, I wondered at the practicalities of launching a projectile mailbox of uncertain construction towards an airborne target. 

Frankly, the distance was a major concern. It was certainly further than the length I punted fruit slimes. And this would require aim. Despite the size of the target, actually hitting it with anything would require dexterity, finesse and overwhelming talent.

Hence … I lifted my sword, and then began to swish in a familiar circular motion.

“Ohhohohohohohoho!!”

Indeed, were it anyone else, I had little doubt the weight of expectation would prove an impossible anchor tying down even the surest of arms! A trained archer with an eagle’s eye would strike such a target once in a hundred attempts!

But a princess with a permanent seat at the Royal Arc Theatre?

Why, I was in my element!

This naive, overgrown peasant! As if taking to the sky was enough to deter my faultless hand! I had thrown enough rotten fruit at stuttering sopranos that I needed to only purchase a single crate for an entire evening of disappointment!

If I could strike a moving nose with a woefully unsymmetrical peach at 20 paces without blinking, then I could most certainly do so to an overbearing stain upon my moon!

All around me, the forest groaned as the rustling of leaves became the creaking of branches.

As I swished Starlight Grace in a tiny circle above me, the trees which ringed us began to sway. Movement revealed itself amidst the underbrush as the tails of small animals scampered away. A myriad of colours disturbed the canopy as birds of all shapes took flight. 

Soon, the heavy cedars shuddered with complaints as the tiny puff of wind over my head promptly began to gather their leaves … and maybe bits of twigs … and maybe slightly larger bits of twigs, sometimes called branches.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm.

“Wooooooooooo!” cried out the Snow Dancer, hunching down against what was most definitely something I was not already regretting. “It feels amazing not to have this aimed at me!”

“Great, huh?” replied Coppelia, having no such issues as she stood further back … and back … and back. “Watch when it becomes the [Ball Of Doom]! That’s the best bit!”

I pursed my lips against the chattering of the audience, opting to humour them with no reply.

Mostly because I wasn’t in a position to.

Peering up at the gathering ball of primordial energy imbued upon the tip of Starlight Grace, I was suddenly reminded again why I stuck solely to the Mark II Prototype[Spring Breeze] over the more visually compelling Mark III Prototype variant. 

In fact, there was a reason I’d more or less stopped actively improving the latest numbered version.

It was deeply uncomfortable.

And also a little bit alarming.

As I continuously nurtured the slightly-larger-than-tiny puff of wind, a ring of dark clouds began to form around the twisting spectacle of energy. Crackles of blue, arcing light snapped to and fro, striking at the leaves and leaving nothing but incinerated embers, the ashes swallowed by the ensuing vortex.

I leaned slightly away.

With my brow raised in mounting concern, I regarded the weight I could feel upon my arm. Though not necessarily cumbersome, it was exceptionally unwieldy. A burden requiring the delicate balance of a spoon upon my fingertip. 

… Especially when bits of the rubble and debris began lifting to join the growing ball of swirling energy, the jagged stone fusing into the existing amalgamation.

Somewhere nearby, I heard a whistle.

“Wow! I have literally no idea what I’m seeing!”

“You’re seeing a [Ball Of Doom]. She says it’s not.”

“This is the literal definition of a [Ball Of Doom]!”

“I know. She normally sticks with a small one, though. She uses it to blow away fruit slimes. And also give volume to her hair.”

I pursed my lips as colours I’d never quite seen before began to clash and merge above me.

Hmmmmmm. 

My lack of field testing was beginning to show itself, wasn’t it?

A significant part of me wished to declare this sufficient … but an even larger part wanted under no circumstances to do this a second time.

And as I pondered this conundrum–

I bore witness to a silver sword with a sapphire pommel being tossed into the spiralling vortex, before being enveloped in crackling lightning.

“W-What are you doing?!” I said, aghast at the sight of a sword swirling above my own. “Did you just throw your weapon into my delicate gardening technique?!”

“Yep!” said the Snow Dancer cheerfully. “I’m improving it!”

I risked a glance to the side. The elven woman hopped on one leg as she removed a heeled boot.

She also tossed it into the ball over my head.

Horrified as she began to remove her other boot, I looked up at the black wyvern before the clouds. At long last, its jaws had closed. And now its very wide eyes were trained upon me.

Not a single boast was being emitted.

“What … What is that … ?”

Ugh.

I’d chastise the Snow Dancer later.

Those who earned my ire had to queue. And currently, the flying peasant was first.

“One blade, one will, ten thousand caterpillars upon the wind. Gardening Form, 7th Stance ...”

I aimed as the wyvern suddenly dived with a speed to bely its size.

As it lowered itself towards the ground, a sudden jet of flames erupted out, scorching the forest in an incinerating line as it rushed towards me.

“[Spring Breeze]!!”

PWOOOOOOOOOOOOOMPH!!

However–

As I released the gathered energy fused with trees, stone, a sword, a boot, and a mailbox, I recalled another reason why I didn’t use my Mark III Prototype.

“–Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!”

All vision became a blur as I promptly found myself hurtling through the air.

An undignified mode of transportation. But one made slightly more manageable by the well-timed arms of my loyal handmaiden as she partially cushioned the impact. 

Partially. 

Because for a moment, all I saw were dancing bluebirds as all other lights went from my eyes.

“Oooph~ that was a big one!” came Coppelia’s bright voice. “You definitely broke your record! All the fruit slimes in the way never saw it coming!”

I nodded in agreement, accepting her words as fact.  

As my working vision slowly returned, what I witnessed for my troubles was a night sky devoid of any eyesores framed against the moon. 

In fact–

It was devoid of everything. 

Only the stars remained.

They glittered like a painting of jewels splashed across a canvas, their twinkling so bright that all the constellations could be traced with one’s fingertips. 

I blinked at the sight. 

My, how curious that I never noticed how lovely this night was! To think that I’d been so preoccupied with my tasks that I hadn’t noticed that not a single cloud was above my kingdom! 

Here was a sight truly worthy of my time … at least for a few seconds.

Because the very moment I detached myself from Coppelia to admire the view, I found myself narrowing my eyes at the only blot to appear.

One considerably smaller than a wyvern, yet flying towards us at great speed.

And then–

Thwunk.

A wyvern’s head landed in the grass.

Immediately, it shuddered to life as it rolled to its side. 

Its golden eyes widened–as did its maws.

And then … a sad puff of smoke spluttered out. 

A pause later, it rolled awkwardly on the spot in an effort to search for the body it was once again separated from. Except this time, it was nowhere to be seen.

It shortly stopped rolling. 

A pair of golden eyes blinked up at me, before a bead of sweat rolled down its cheeks.

“You have proven yourself a capable foe. I am willing to entertain negotiations with you.” 

I stared, open mouthed at this pitiful display of bravado.

But not for long.

Hand rising to my lips, barely covering my smile, I offered my full suite of beautiful gloating.

“Ohhohohohoohoohohoho! To be head over heels with joy at my presence is a fine thing, but never would I have expected you to have taken it to such extremes! My, where did your body go? Did you perhaps tell it to go searching for your missing wits? How ingenious that you would split yourself like this! Now you can halve the number of centuries it’ll take for you to think up your next grand scheme! Ohohohohoohohohoohoho!”

A look of quiet indignation met me. 

A tardy time to display any sense of personal pride. And one I ignored as much as my loyal handmaiden did. 

Wearing a look of professional curiosity, she peered down at the wyvern head in much the same way I did when I dissected the worth of a new seasonal menu item.

“Wow! I can’t believe he’s still alive.”

“Is this alive? Didn’t you mention self-necromancy?”

“Sure, but that’s just a guess! This is a really unique case. He’s not only managed to keep himself alive, but as a shapeshifted creature. I have absolutely no idea what’s going on under all that.”

“Well, I suppose you can ask him. He currently has limb-itless free time … ohohohoohooohoho!” 

Again, a dignified silence met my gloating laughter. Which was fine.

Few rewards were sweeter to me than the sound of shame.

Coppelia hummed, leaning so close that the wyvern head turned to its side.

“Hey, can I keep him?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” I replied, aghast at the very thought. “While dragging such an eyesore behind us would certainly prove a valuable message to our foes, it hasn’t been vogue to keep talking heads as pets for at least the past two years.”

“Ahaha~ I don’t want this as a pet. I know a guy who knows a guy who’ll definitely want to study what this archdruid’s been doing in his spare time.”

“Is … Is that so? Well, I suppose that depends, then. How would he be treated?”

“Awful. He’ll wish he was mining soap instead.”

“Very well. I don’t hold any personal objections. But Coppelia, this is a very large head. Even with your prodigious talent for lifting heavy objects, it seems unwieldy to deliver this.”

“Oh, don’t worry! The guy who knows a guy is just someone in a different section of the library. I’ll just toss the head through my special box.”

“What? Can you do that?”

“Sure! It’ll be a tight squeeze, and something will probably break … but eh, the look on everyone’s faces when they see what I’ve sent through! It’ll be worth it!”

“... Excuse me, but I do believe there’s been a misunderstanding. Allow me to apologise for any perceived rudeness on my part. It was not intended.”

I joined Coppelia in leaning down towards the stricken head.

“You needn’t worry. I’m as merciful as I am beautiful. And as such, I shall offer you ample opportunities to apologise after X amount of years.”

“What is … X amount of years?”

I smiled as my answer.

The sweat upon the wyvern’s face became even more pronounced.

I hardly saw why. I was sending him to be subjected to unimaginable horrors in a mysterious library staffed by crazed oddballs. 

Were I cruel, he’d be sent to a soirée hosted in the countryside instead.

No, if I had any regrets, it would be that I wouldn’t be able to offer the hospitality of Soap Island’s golden shores and indefinite solitude to all who truly deserved it. 

Including, of course, an elven woman whose presence had vanished alongside her laughter.

Instead of the sight of silver hair touching the ground as she prostrated towards me, all I saw instead was an unprofessional lack of commitment towards her future career as an artificer of bespoke bars of soap. 

The unfathomable woman was gone.

But not her footwear.

I raised a brow, unimpressed as I caught sight of what was hanging over me. 

Because of the Snow Dancer, only a single boot could be seen playfully dangling across a branch.