The world hadn't returned to normal.
The winds still whispered secrets born of fear, and ash floated down like snowflakes that seared the skin. The sky remained bruised purple—swollen with thunderclouds that belonged to no natural storm. Something ancient groaned in the distance, like a titan shifting in its grave.
Rose lay crumpled on the ground, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her fingers were curled like wilting petals, her hair matted with sweat and blood. Nearby, Slyvia stumbled, her breath rattling in her lungs. Her once-proud eyes were scorched and gone—emptied in Lamia's last assault. Now, two trails of blood poured from her eye sockets, mixing with the dust and ash on her cheeks.
Still, she pressed forward.
One hand scraped blindly across the broken terrain, the other dragging Rose's wrist as she half-crawled, half-dragged her toward the thin golden fissure that marked the edge of the illusion—the exit of the mental prison they had fought to escape for what felt like hours, maybe even days.
"Almost… out," Slyvia rasped. Her voice cracked from the inside, hollow and trembling. "Just… a few steps more, Rose… just a little more."
The path ahead shimmered with broken light—ancient magic from the outside world bleeding into the dreamspace. It was fragile, almost like glass. Slyvia had found it not through sight but instinct. Her soul, attuned to the patterns of the arcane, had felt the pull of freedom.
But the moment her fingers brushed the light—everything changed.
The temperature dropped like a stone in the sea. The very air froze, burning the lungs with its chill.
Then came the scream.
It wasn't a cry made for ears. It was the sound of a soul being flayed—glass shattering across eternity. The sky above them cracked down the middle, lightning bleeding from the wound.
From the rift, he descended.
Lamia.
His return wasn't graceful. It was violence given form.
He fell like a meteor—wrapped in a cloak of shredded shadows, his body trailing trails of crimson fire. When he crashed into the mountaintop, the ground split open in a radius of molten lava and jagged black thorns. Obsidian spikes shot upward, piercing the heavens. Smoke curled into dragon-like tendrils.
Slyvia's breath hitched as the earth groaned beneath her. Her bloody hands reached instinctively for Rose, shielding her blindly.
Lamia rose from the crater.
His body gleamed with unnatural perfection—porcelain skin veined with shadow. His long black hair moved like it floated underwater, and his lips were curled into a twisted mockery of a smile.
"I wasn't done playing," he purred, his voice smooth like velvet dragged over blades. "Did you really think I could fall so easily? Sweet Slyvia…"
Slyvia bared her teeth. "You're not real. This is still the illusion."
He laughed.
And it shook the entire realm.
"No, my little oracle. This… is the echo. And echoes—" He vanished mid-sentence, reappearing a breath behind her, "—grow louder with each return."
Rose stirred at last, blinking weakly. Her lips parted just as Lamia's cold hand reached for her.
"Don't!" Slyvia snarled.
She slammed her bloodied palm against the earth. A barrier of ice exploded upward, encasing Rose in a glimmering dome of frost.
Lamia smiled. "Adorable."
He stepped forward—and with a flick of his finger, shattered the barrier like glass. The shards danced in the air before melting into mist.
"Do you truly believe your elemental tricks can stop me now?"
He stepped into the circle of broken frost. His fingers brushed Rose's cheek, then her lips. "Still dormant. The little dragon egg... unhatched."
He raised his arm.
The ground beneath Rose convulsed and cracked. A deep fissure yawned open, swallowing her in shadows. Volcanic stone rose in a coffin-like cradle, and coils of black flame slithered out, chaining her arms and legs.
"NO!" Slyvia screamed.
She lunged blindly, sensing Lamia's presence through the dark aura that pulsed from him like a second heartbeat.
But Lamia was faster.
He flung her backward with a flick of his wrist. She crashed against a rock outcrop, the impact splitting her lip and bruising her ribs. Still, she rose.
She couldn't see—but she felt.
He was near again.
"I protected her," she growled. "I'll protect her always."
Lamia's shadow expanded like wings behind him. "And that's will be your greatest mistake ever."
He lunged—and Slyvia was ready.
She spun sideways, narrowly dodging a clawed slash. With blood dripping from her ruined eyes, she conjured a whip of lightning from her fingertips and lashed it toward his chest.
Lamia blocked it with a smirk. "You strike without sight. Impressive."
"I don't need eyes to kill you."
Their battle ignited.
Slyvia danced through darkness and blood, her movements guided by instinct and sheer fury. Lightning coiled around her arms. Fire burst from her feet. Wind shrieked in spirals. Every spell was a scream, a memory of pain, a promise to survive.
Lamia moved like liquid shadow—bending reality, twisting light. He countered her with illusions that clawed at her sanity: voices of the dead, false cries from Rose, visions of burning cities.
But Slyvia endured.
She struck with a spear of ice that grazed his shoulder. The wound hissed—and Lamia's grin faltered.
"You actually hurt me," he said, wiping dark ichor from his skin. "How... charming."
She panted, dropping to one knee. Her magic flickered. "I'm not finished."
He was.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared before her.
And with both hands, he gripped her head.
Black fire surged into her skull.
Slyvia screamed, louder than ever before. Her mouth foamed. Her bones cracked from the force.
"Tell me," Lamia hissed, his voice no longer human. "Where did you hide the Phoenix Stone?"
Her hands flailed—then faltered.
A glow emerged from her chest—blue, gold, violet.
The Phoenix Stone.
It rose from her flesh like a soul escaping its host. Lamia caught it gently.
His eyes widened. "So beautiful... You were always so weak so whenever you get to reach my level we can par but for now time to sleep."
Slyvia collapsed.
She coughed weakly, her body twitching.
"You'll never win," she whispered.
Lamia tilted his head. "But I already have."
He grabbed her throat.
She didn't fight this time.
As her neck snapped, thunder answered.
Her body slumped—lifeless.
With clinical ease, Lamia lifted her and carried her to the coffin where Rose was chained. He placed her beside her friend, folding her bloodied fingers over Rose's frozen ones.
He whispered in ancient tongues.
Iron vines crept from the ground, weaving into the obsidian. Thorns bled dark sap. The lid slid over them.
He placed a single hand atop the stone.
"I have killed your existence," he said softly. "From now on, no one will know you live... or ever did. I have erased you from memory. You are gone. Forgotten. Forever."
The coffin sealed.
The sky above closed.
And the illusion shattered—like a mirror breaking into a thousand silent pieces.
Only ash remained.
And silence.
But beneath that obsidian lid, deep inside the heart of an abandoned chapel ...
Two beauties laid down waiting for the moment to escape the terror they were in but will that day arrive.