The throne of dominance

Chapter 9: A Violent Battle: A Game of Darkness

Zane tensed, her sharp eyes scanning the treeline with a stillness that demanded attention. Her hand hovered near the hilt of her sword, her body poised for action. The faint breeze that had carried the scents of grass and wildflowers seemed to vanish, leaving the air heavy and still.

"Someone's there," she murmured, her voice low but steady.

Jean, walking slightly ahead, stopped mid-step and turned to glance at her. His brows furrowed, though he tried to mask his unease with a lopsided grin. "Duh, it's obvious," he said lightly, though the tension in his voice betrayed him. "But who?"

Behind them, Jonas and Yuri fell silent, their steps slowing as they tightened formation instinctively. The group stood in uneasy stillness, the only sound their breaths and the faint rustling of leaves overhead. The afternoon light filtered through the treetops in fractured beams, casting uneven shadows across the dirt path.

And then it came.

A sound, faint and distant at first—a giggle. High-pitched and melodic, it flitted through the forest like the tinkling of glass wind chimes. But it wasn't joyful. There was something sharp beneath it, a razor-edge malice that made the hairs on Jean's neck stand on end.

"Did you hear that?" Yuri whispered, his voice barely audible. His fingers tightened around his bowstring, the tension in his body mirroring the fear beginning to coil in his chest.

Jonas nodded but said nothing, his jaw tightening. His hand flexed at his side, the faint shimmer of suppressed magic flickering around his fingertips.

Another sound—a twig snapping—made Zane draw her sword halfway from its scabbard. Her eyes darted to the shadows ahead, her voice sharp and quiet. "Stay ready."

From the treeline, two figures stepped into view.

The first moved with deliberate grace, her steps precise and unhurried as she emerged from the cover of the trees. Her long black hair, smooth and gleaming, cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face so pale it seemed almost translucent in the dappled sunlight. Her eyes, pale and icy blue, locked onto the group with a cold intensity that sent a shiver down Jean's spine. She wore a fitted black cloak that swayed gently with her movements, the edges embroidered with faint, shimmering patterns that seemed to shift in the light.

Jean's breath hitched, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "Lila Edwards."

The name was bitter on his tongue. The stories of her precision and ruthlessness weren't just tales—he had seen the aftermath of her handiwork during the siege. She was the eldest of the Edwards siblings, the enforcer of their will, and she carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew the power she held.

But it wasn't Lila who truly terrified him.

The second figure stepped into the light, smaller and slighter than her sister, but somehow far more unsettling. Her wild, dark hair framed her face in untamed waves, and her wide grin stretched unnaturally across her features. Her eyes, a vivid green tinged with something almost luminous, darted between the group like a predator sizing up its prey. Her movements were erratic, almost playful, as she swayed on her heels, her hands swinging loosely at her sides.

Jean stared at her, his heart pounding. She didn't look familiar. And yet, there was something about her—something deeply wrong.

"Who's that?" he muttered, his voice barely audible as he glanced at Zane. She didn't reply, her focus fixed on the two figures, her grip tightening on her sword.

The younger girl giggled again, the sound bubbling up like an eerie, twisted melody. "Oh, don't tell me you don't know me," she said, her voice lilting and almost sweet, though it carried an undercurrent of malice. "That hurts my feelings. Really, it does."