CLARA SAT with a start, gasping for breath. She breathed in as much air to fill her lungs after almost drowning. Except there was no water.
"Anneliese."
She flinched at the touch of someone stroking her arm for comfort. Realizing it was only Eadric, Clara's tensed muscles relaxed.
Eadric had his arms around her protectively. She was pressed so close to his body that he was typically hugging her. But the prince was in no good condition, Clara realized. With his clenched jaw, heavy panting, heavy-lidded eyes, and wounded body, he was on the brink of passing out.
"H-How are you feeling?" Eadric croaked then he coughed blood.
Fear gnawed at Clara. She untangled his arms from her and he was too weak to resist.
All around them, the battle raged on between the Fyrians and Eirinians. Despite the wounds he suffered, Eadric kept the barrier around them the entire time Clara was unconscious. Outside the aerial barrier, Clara could make out the enemies' shadows and their relentless attacks in pursuit of her.
"Prince Eadric!" As Clara attended to him, the prince kept on pushing her arms away as he attempted to get up. Only that his knees gave out and he would rain curses on how useless they were.
"Please, you're weak and wounded. Don't force yourself!" Clara said hysterically as she forced him to sit still, her face etched with worry. She did not mind the horrible sting on her stomach. The attack left a long gash on her flesh. At least, the prince had wrapped a cloth around her waist so that it slowed down the bleeding.
"Just let me take care of them. You've already done enough, Eadric!"
"No! They want you!" Eadric caught her wrists and caged them in his hands as if doing so would stop her from ever running to fight. "Let me fight for you, Anneliese. Let me take care of you."
His voice broke at the end and Clara was frozen in place, seeing a tear escaping the prince's eye.
Here was the prince who was hopelessly in love. Clara remembered how much a simple talk in the sitting room gave him light. And she hated that after all of this was over, when the time would come that she had to leave, things would go back to the way it was before for him and Anneliese.
"I-It's okay," she whispered to him in a soft, gentle voice. Clara couldn't stop her voice from shaking.
Freeing her hands from his clutch, she cupped his face. "You've done great, brave prince." She placed a featherlight kiss on his forehead, and with the moon's kiss and touch, Eadric fell asleep. Clara laid him gently on the floor.
The spherical wind barrier was thinning. With the prince unconscious, the only thing that was keeping her safe from the enemies was slowly weakening. Any moment from now, she had to fight.
Clara couldn't be a burden to anyone. She ripped the skirt of her gown till up to her knees. It was the least of her concerns. What was the use of a beautiful dress once she ended up dead in the hands of the enemies?
Clara conjured a whip in her hand. As soon as the last of the barrier disappeared, her arm rolled forward, slicing through the flesh of one Fyrian.
She recognized one among them. Kuraim sent volleys of fireballs her way. Clara leaped out of its path, but an enemy appeared behind her. Oluz held her in a chokehold while another attempted to bind her wrists with an anti-magic rope.
Clara flipped herself and kicked the other Fyrian right in the face. She landed sitting on Oluz's shoulders and hit his nape with the heel of her palm. He fell face-first on the floor. Now she only had to deal with the Fyrian with a terrible nosebleed and Kuraim.
Kuraim roared in rage. He blew fire through his mouth, following Clara as she ran into the wrecked hallway to try and lure them into a much larger space.
The courtyard was just one floor below them. Clara leaped off the terrace, grabbing the vines attached to the walls to slow her descent. She landed on her feet. The two Fyrians were hot on her heels. Clara skidded to a stop in the middle of the courtyard and then faced the enemies.
"Brave of you to bring us out here!" Kuraim shouted, sneering. "Who would save you from us then?"
Clara glared. "I don't need saving. Remember I did that to your friend." She pointed at the other Fyrian, blood still flowing out of his broken nose. He was swaying as if dizzy.
The smug look on Kuraim's face was soon replaced with contempt. He threw a red viscous liquid close to Clara's feet. And as if to scare her, he intentionally missed. She jumped back a little as the hot lava melted the ground, leaving a huge gaping hole that goes deeper.
Kuraim shot another volley of hot lava, this time, with no intention of missing. Clara could have conjured a barrier to surround her, but she wouldn't dare test it. She rolled out of the way and slammed her palms on the ground. There was no one else around except the three of them, so no one would see if she used it.
A magic circle appeared beneath the Fyrians' feet and green light shot into the sky.
A rumbling began deep in the ground under their feet. Clara scrambled away, working to keep her balance while being shaken. The Fyrians didn't know what to put on this strange power.
Plant tendrils broke out of the cemented floor. They rolled and slithered like tentacles from the deep abyss of the ocean.
The tendrils wrapped themselves around their prey's arms and legs, ankles and wrists. And before the Fyrians could scream, it coiled around their heads until their entire bodies were covered with it. Sparks of red flame sputtered from the tiny openings, a sign of their futile attempt to free themselves from Clara's power. As they struggled for escape, the tendrils dragged them down along with the muffled sounds of their cries. The hole in the earth slowly closed, burying those who perished from her power. And with that, no one would be able to find them. No one would know that the Erinian princess could wield earth magic.
With her enemies down, Clara made it her mission to find her friends. Somewhere inside her was already fearing the worst, but she had to keep up her faith that they would all come out of this alive.
Clara supposed this was not a full-blown attack. There was not a single Fyrian she crossed paths with as she re-entered the palace. However, the more she ran, the more she was drawing closer to the commotion from the ballroom.
She'd just cleared the main study area and was passing through the hung portraits of the Castellan family when something dark and macabre passed over her head. She glanced up and stopped running.
Something was odd in the behavior of the shadows of the many marble statues in this part of the hall. They seemed to dance even if the flames of the torches were calm.
Clara jerked forward as she felt something pinch the back of her shoulder, then floated over her head. She spun around just in time to duck as a shadowy figure hurtled at her. Sinister darkness began filling the hallway as though evil itself was radiating from its body.
It was nothing like the first monster she faced—the Follower. This one was taller, looming over her with deadly claws extended. Suddenly, it lunged at her. Clara barely managed to throw herself out of the way.
If there was one thing that could beat the shadow, it was light. Clara shot a bright, silver beam on its head. The shadow shrieked, but the hole between its red, glowing eyes closed.
Clara tried to focus on the Moon spell her sage from Sierra taught her for warding off the darkness, but her heart was racing and she couldn't gather her thoughts.
The shadow's eyes narrowed into a glare. Screeching, it dashed past the statues straight toward her. The pounding of her heart grew so loud that it filled her ears, blocking out the dark rustle of the shadow.
"Willow, I need you!"
Willow materialized beside her, and Clara immediately felt the air spirit channel her magical energy to her.
"It's high time you called for me. I was worried about you!" Willow said in spite, then she choked. "They... everyone..."
No matter how much Clara wanted to ask how everybody was, that was not the right moment to be bothered by what was happening. She had her enemy to face.
"You're going down, monster!"
With Willow's help, Air magic coursed through her. Clara used it to lift the shadow monster off the ground.
"Yes! Take that, you—"
The monster flailed around, and Clara felt her control over the spell weakening. Then, with a snap, the spell broke and the monster fell to the carpeted floor. It shook off Clara's magic, then it flew at her again, its shriek jarring her teeth. All she could do was throw her arms up to defend herself. However, she caught a glimpse of Willow leaping in front of her to protect her.
"Willow, no!"
Before all was too late, a black-hooded figure skidded to a stop in front of her and Willow. Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he plunged his bony hand inside the shadow's body. As soon as he pulled out, the shadow dissipated, leaving no trace of the monster behind.
However, something in his hand made Clara catch her breath—a crimson rock, the same as the one she and Emir found in the hidden sanctum. From what she could remember, Professor Rhyb called it an essence.
"It is the master's order not to hurt the princess," the man croaked. His long nails dug at the rock's surface which soon crushed under the force of his hand. "Stupid Shade," he spat. "Master's useless pet."
The man turned around. He was sickly gray and lifeless. His skin stuck to the bone. His huge protruding eyes were red. They held vacant expressions that, even from a safe distance, struck Clara rigid with fear.
He pointed a skeletal finger at her. "Get her."
It was too late to realize that behind her were many Fyrian soldiers. Before she could make for a run, her captors bound her wrists and legs. Someone managed to cage Willow in a round transparent glass. And Clara was forced to lie down as they worked on her gag.
Tears pooled in Clara's eyes but not without sending glares at the man who was behind her capture.
Snapping his fingers, the shadows of the marble statues trembled and they rose from the ground to bind together, forming one huge black sheet. He rolled it into a ball and kneaded it with his palm. After a minute or two of stretching it, it had grown into the size of a door. Its edges were wobbly, but when he pressed it away from his body a little, it seemed to take a firmer shape, like a plaster cast after being set to dry.
The man reached for the left side of the dark rectangle, feeling around its surface, searching for something. With its lock released, a shadow door swung open. They were gazing into a long, deep, red-black tunnel. It was clammy inside and smelled like mildew.
A Fyrian threw Clara over his shoulder. She thrashed helplessly as one by one, her captors entered the door leading to who knows where.
And as soon as the shadow door sealed shut behind them with a deeply unnerving pfffffft, the castle's hallway was gone.