The once radiant Founders Hall, known for echoing with laughter, was now painted in crimson and silence. Broken pillars, torn banners, and the dead—both rebels and loyalists—littered the floor. Smoke from shattered torches clung to the air.
Arioch, the chief of the second clan of Salem, stood amidst the carnage. His gray hair fell over his eyes, but his gaze was clear. Around him, a few of his warriors remained unharmed—silent, still, watching the aftermath unfold.
His heart beat heavily as he took in the horror. Blood had fought blood. Family against family.
As his eyes swept the hall, he saw something move—a Toy, part of Amariah's rebels, still alive, crawling toward a fallen spear. Without hesitation, Arioch drew his sword and brought it down. The Toy collapsed, lifeless.
"Coward! Betrayer!" a furious voice rang out.
Abinadab, the Chief of Tiras, charged toward him with his blade drawn. Their swords clashed violently, sparks flying. The clang echoed like thunder through the broken hall.
"You stood with her, Arioch!" Abinadab shouted. "Now you strike her own?!"
Arioch parried and pushed him back. "Her plan is madness, Abinadab. She's gone too far."
"She only wants justice! The Founders betrayed their children!" Abinadab's voice cracked.
"Or the children betrayed their fathers!" Arioch barked back. He lowered his sword slightly. "We are a nation. A people. A family. But look at us—we fight like rival kingdoms. This isn't who we are."
He motioned around the hall. "She brought this upon us all—because she refuses to forgive. But family forgives."
Abinadab's face twisted with pain. "Did the family forgive her father? her brother?"
Arioch's voice softened. "They did. You weren't there the night Rex made the vow. Her father, Tiras, wanted to taste death. So did his son, your father. Rex wept. He tried to bring the Guardian King back first. Then he tried again. But Tiras… your father… they refused. They made the Chiefs and Lords swear: no one would ever bring back the dead again."
Abinadab faltered.
"She didn't see that, Abinadab. She never heard that vow," Arioch continued. "She thinks we left them in the dark. But they chose it."
The Chief of Tiras dropped his blade to his side. "Then how do we stop this?"
"She won't listen," Arioch said, stepping forward. "She's gone too far. The only way to end this is to kill her."
Abinadab's eyes widened. "No… I will try. I'll try to speak to her."
"You won't change her mind."
"I have to try."
He turned and sprinted down the bloodied hall, disappearing into the smoke.
Arioch stood still, sword lowered. "Then may you succeed… before I do."
---
Outer Courtyard – Palace Gates
Steel rang against steel as the Guardian King fought with unwavering focus, cutting through the invaders who charged the gates. His presence was like a storm—shield raised, blade flashing with brutal precision, never retreating, never faltering.
But then—he paused.
His eyes narrowed, turning toward the palace steps.
Shadows.
Not warriors. Not rebels. But figures cloaked in darkness, moving with unnatural grace, slithering through the halls toward the Founders' Wing.
He froze—his expression changed from fury to dread.
"No…" he whispered. "Mother."
He took a sharp breath, then roared, "Huntress!"
---
Palace Interior – Upper Hall
The Huntress turned mid-strike, spinning away from Amariah's blade at the sound of the Guardian King's voice. She knew the tone—fear, not for himself, but for something greater.
But before she could take a single step—
A hand caught her wrist.
"Where are you going?" Amariah hissed, yanking her back.
The two crashed to the marble floor, weapons scattering. Amariah recovered first, grabbing her sword and driving it downward—piercing the Huntress's shoulder and pinning her to the ground.
The Huntress howled in pain, rage flashing in her eyes. With a sharp movement, she twisted her legs up and kicked Amariah in the chest, sending her staggering back.
Blood pouring from her wound, the Huntress ripped the blade free and tried to stand—but Amariah struck again, her sword grazing the Huntress's ribs.
The duel ignited once more.
Their blades clashed in a whirlwind of fury and exhaustion. The walls echoed with the sound of battle, but in this moment—it was just the two of them. Sisters of the blade, locked in one final war dance.
Amariah pressed forward, pushing the Huntress to the brink. She slashed, spun, and struck with relentless speed.
The Huntress faltered—
But then—
A sharp gasp escaped Amariah's lips.
Steel burst through her chest—from behind.
She staggered forward, blood dripping from her mouth, staring down at the blade that had pierced her.
Behind her, trembling, was Abinadab, his hands still gripping the hilt, his eyes red with tears.
Amariah dropped to her knees, her sword slipping from her grasp. Her breath came shallow, and her gaze fell to the Huntress—then past her, to Abinadab, who slowly walked around and knelt in front of her.
"Why… Abinadab?" she whispered, blood on her lips. "Why?"
"I'm sorry," he said, tears falling freely. "I love the family. I didn't want to see it wiped out because of you."
"My father… and my brother… they died for this family."
"No," Abinadab replied softly. "Your father chose to die. That's why Father Rex made an oath—to honor his wish. To never bring back the dead."
Amariah's eyes filled with tears. "No… Father…"
Her vision blurred as a strange warmth washed over her. Her body faded into a trance.
She saw them.
Tiras and Joab—her father and brother—standing before her in the traditional Edenite armor. Their breastplates shone in the moonlight. Joab wore the Founders' sigil on his headband, his eyes filled with peace.
They said nothing.
They only turned—and walked away.
"No…!" she cried out, reaching out a trembling hand.
There was silence.
Then she whispered:
"To the Greatest Family… To Blood… and for Blood."
Abinadab repeated it, voice shaking.
"To Blood… and for Blood."
Amariah's body slumped forward, her last breath fading on her lips.
Abinadab held her gently as she died.
---
Palace Grounds – As This Happens
Mark and David dashed through the crumbling palace, fending off warriors as they ran toward the Founders' Wing. Each hallway twisted with chaos, blood, and fire.
But the shadows—those unnatural beings—were always just ahead. They glided, almost untouched by time, moving with one purpose.
Mark's eyes narrowed. "They're going to the Founders' Palace."
David nodded grimly. "We're not the only ones hunting."
---
Founders' Hall – Grand Entrance
The Guardian King reached the steps just as the shadows crossed into the sacred wing. His heart pounded.
Then—Rex appeared from the opposite corridor, his cloak torn and face grim.
He saw the shadows.
Their eyes locked.
Rex didn't need to speak. He ran—straight into the Founders' Palace.
The Guardian King and the Huntress, who had just arrived bloodied but alive, followed without hesitation.
Whatever those shadows were…
They were not from this world.
And they were already inside.