Lady Bana's Warning

Lady Bana's Warning
❤️ Lady Bana's Warning ❤️

"You—" King Oberon started, but Vyrelen cut him off.

"I have told you what the Emperor wants me to tell you. Bring your fighter, and he will bring his. In two days, the fight will take place in Ashland, as you chose." Vyrelen gave a small bow, and before Oberon could say another word, the Nightweaver disappeared into his shadows.

Oberon clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. He walked over to the mirror hanging in the corner of his chamber, inspecting his throat where Vyrelen had gripped him. The skin was red, an infuriating reminder of how easily he had been caught off guard. His rage burned hotter as he remembered his fire not burning Vyrelen.

Placing a hand over the mark, he closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the redness had vanished.

With a growl, he slammed his fist into the mirror, shattering the glass into many pieces.

He then grinned as he remembered Tharros response to his message.

Tharros had taken the bait. He is indeed a big fool.

The Ashland spirit that resided in the cursed land obeyed only him. With its power, he would ensure Tharros lost, humiliatingly, painfully, and permanently.

The air around him thickened, pulsing with unseen energy. A dark force rippled through the room, and from the wall beside the broken mirror, a figure emerged.

She was stunning, yet terrifying. Two curved horns crowned her head. Her long brown hair cascaded freely over her shoulders, but it was her piercing red eyes that made Oberon still.

She was glaring at him.

Oberon dropped to his knees without hesitation.

"What were you thinking when you challenged Tharros?" Lady Bana’s voice was sharp, laced with irritation.

"My Lady," Oberon began, keeping his head bowed. "I want my bride. Nyxoria belongs to me, not to anyone else. Isn’t that what we agreed on?"

"You acted recklessly," she scolded. "Tharros is powerful, his origins are still unknown. Do not be fooled by his youth or by Vyrelen’s. That is why we planned to attack him from within his shadows. You should be careful, Oberon

"My Lady Bana, I can’t stand seeing Nyxoria with him," Oberon admitted, frustration evident in his tone. "You know how long I’ve waited. She was almost mine, and then she was stolen from me. You can’t expect me to sit back and do nothing."

"And what exactly do you think you can do?" she asked coldly. "You are no match for him."

"Then help me," Oberon pleaded. "Give me your Cindercloak warrior. Let him be my fighter. With his strength and the power of the Ashland spirit, we will be victorious."

Lady Bana studied him for a moment, then finally spoke. "Stand up."

Oberon obeyed, his eyes burning with determination.

"How do you intend to repay me if I allow you to use my warrior?" she asked, tilting her head. "He has been in slumber since the last war. I do not wake him for free.

"Think about the bigger picture," Oberon said, spreading his arms. "If we defeat Tharros, your work here is nearly done. It’s like killing two birds with one stone. I don’t understand why everyone hypes Tharros up so much. He’s just a boy. A boy I will crush beneath my power. He thinks he’s the only one who commands darkness." he added.

Lady Bana smirked. "You truly believe that, don’t you?"

Oberon lifted his chin defiantly. "I don’t believe it—I know it."

"If you defeat him, greater rewards await you," Lady Bana said, her voice laced with a quiet promise. "I could have sent my best warrior, but she is in disguise. And the one who could have been of real help has had a change of heart, she now wishes to help Nyxoria, the irony of life, but she is with us now, so what do you say?"

"No, my Lady Bana," Oberon insisted, shaking his head. "I need the Cindercloak warrior. He is more capable and stronger, he is a legend. He has the power to face Tharros and his fighter."

Lady Bana tapped a long, sharp fingernail against her chin. "When is this fight happening?"

"Two days from now, my Lady Bana."

"That falls on the weekend," she mused, then smirked. "I will be watching the fight. For my sake, you had better win this fight."

"I will, my Lady Bana," Oberon assured her, determination burning in his eyes. He wanted Nyxoria by his side. "Thank you for trusting me."

Lady Bana’s smile widened slightly. "You are welcome. I always take care of those who serve me."

"I know," Oberon replied. "And I promise, I will not disappoint you."

"See that you don’t," she said, her tone chilling. "Because if you fail, I will personally see to it that you are hunted down in the afterworld."

Oberon bowed his head, then straightened.

"If you win the fight then you have my permission to kill Vyr. We have used him long enough. He is just a pawn in my game."

"Yes Lady Bana."

"Who is Tharros’ fighter?" she asked in curiosity.

"I don’t know," Oberon admitted. "Spying on his castle is risky, he might notice so I will wait until the day of the fight."

Lady Bana waved a dismissive hand. "That is no problem, as long as it is not him or Vyrelen fighting that day."

Oberon frowned. "Why do you fear Vyrelen? He’s just Tharros’ messenger or is it because he is a Nightweaver?"

"He is not just a Nightweaver or a mere messenger, Oberon," she corrected, her voice turning sharp. "He is something more. If we defeat him, we weaken Tharros, but killing Vyrelen is nearly impossible. That is why we must strike him from the shadows first, before confronting Tharros."

"But you still haven’t told me why you want Tharros dead," Oberon pressed.

Lady Bana’s gaze darkened. "That is a matter between me and the spirits," she said flatly. "It is none of your concern."

Oberon clenched his fists but said nothing.

"When Tharros falls, I will show myself to him," Lady Bana continued. "Be careful, Oberon. Make sure this fight ends in your favor."

"Thank you, Lady Bana."

She gave a lopsided smile, then, in the blink of an eye, she was gone.