Too late.
Ny'ka got there too late.
The battle had happened. Belladonna and Xida, among others, had been captive.
They had been dealt another defeat, one that was too close to the previous one.
They had been ambushed, but for Ny’ka, that wasn't the most painful thing. What hurt the most was her father’s corpse, which was placed at her feet.
She fell to her knees and wept; she grieved. Then her grief turned to rage and she sought for something or someone to be dealt the violence of her rage.
“Everyone that believes in you dies.”
The midnight wind felt harsh and the beings that stood before her seemed like what they were: her enemies.
“Ny'ka,” the Priest called her sharply. “Come with me to bury him to grant his soul safe—”
“My mother died and now my father?” She snapped, not listening to the Priest at all. She continued, angry tears streaming down her cheeks, her hand tightening around the hilt of her sword. “You are no saviour!” She was closing up the distance between them. “You are no Heir! You've saved no one.”
Alaris watched. The last time he heard those words was about three months ago. His dragon’s growl in his mind and he could feel his own rage shimmering in his veins.
He didn't have time for this stupidity she was about to display. She should know better than trying to attack him.
But unfortunately for her, she didn't.
“You are nothing! Useless!” With that, she plunged her sword forward, only to stand still a moment later with blood spilling down the corners of her lips as she fell to her knees, then backward with her sword buried deep in her belly, her eyes open and unblinking.
Her surviving shadow warriors also dissolved into the ground at the death of their master.
A satisfied rumble echoed in Alaris' mind, his eyes changing from those of his dragon to his own. “Finally,” he could hear his dragon say to him in an accomplished tone. His dragon rarely spoke but would act as quickly as possible. Ever since Ny'ka had attacked him, his dragon hadn't rested, he wanted his own revenge.
One that it now had.
Alaris looked down at the fallen warrior.
Well, that was unfortunate. He actually liked that one a little; she was a fine warrior and she had a spark in her that reminded him of himself.
Too stupid though, good riddance.
“Ny’ka?” The Priest rushed forward, pulling her to himself to check if she was indeed dead. “Ny'ka?!” He turned to the Heir with tears in his eyes. “My Lord, you killed her.”
An expected reaction. He had always known that the Priest felt fatherly towards Ny'ka even though she didn't feel the same and he always tried to hide it.
“She was grieving her father and you killed her. She was just a child that had just lost her father, both her parents and you killed her. Why? She was no real threat to you—”
“She pulled her sword against me with raw intent to kill for the second time. I don't condone disrespect, and if she wanted to live, she should have known her limits.” He scoffed. “Second time.” He ran his hand through his hair, a mad light glinting in his eyes. “Second!”
He would have killed her a long time ago, but she was a good warrior with other shadow warriors to contribute. Also, her aim for freedom was clear. She manipulated Ka'el for them, and he was proving to be useful, but with this ambush, it seemed that she might have slipped around him and told him their location. Where else would the White Army get the information from?
She had probably been betraying them the whole time! Who knew?
He had also kept her around because he thought she would be useful in helping Nightshade create portals.
She had been useless at that too.
So fucking useless!
“You have no mercy.”
“I gave her a second chance and I haven’t dishonored her corpse by collecting her heart. That is mercy.”
“My Lord—”
“You will not question me again, Priest Uza, or there will be no one to bury both of you.”
With that, he signaled to some warriors and they carried away Leader Tyrek's corpse. He deserved to be buried properly along with the few they had lost tonight.
No one spoke as they went to the burial ground.
They were too afraid to, also they didn't know where they would go from here.
More shadow warriors couldn't be created from the warriors at the other villages that were now under the Heir’s possession because Lady Belladonna had been captured. Leader Xida had also been captured. Leader Tyrek was dead, along with his daughter. The Priest was broken, they were losing.
Was the Rebellion even worth fighting for?
Was this Saviour even going to save them or was he leading them to their doom?
_____
_____
Lord Jyris had just returned to the White King’s Castle that morning after attending the final farewell ritual for his brother, Zadok. He still couldn't believe that he was dead. It was a hard thing to accept.
He left immediately because he didn't want to speak to his father. He hadn't slept since then but he didn't want to. Sleeping would make him dream of his brother and the rage to strike his father down for vengeance would take over him.
If he didn't love his father, this would be easy.
Jyris pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present, dwelling on it would make his heart so heavy that he wouldn't be able to move.
Some of the White King’s army were supposed to launch an ambush on the Rebellion today and he was here for that.
However, the gates swung open and warriors poured with captives in chains and in cages.
He frowned.
The Ambush had already happened?!
He started walking towards them but one of his personal warriors from his house ran to him.
“Milord, Milord!”
“What is it, Om?”
“She is among the captives; the lowborn you told me to find out about.”
That was all Jyris needed to hear. In a flash, he was before a cage hung across the beast of a warrior. She stared at him with distant eyes, her hands around the bars, her dress stained with blood, her silver hair looking dirty.
“Do not submit her, sell her to me. Name your price.” Jyris said to the warrior who immediately bowed to him. “How much?” He asked again.
“No, My Lord. The White King will know. He specially requested for her.”
What?
Jyris turned to the blue-eyed Lady in the cage.
Her hair had changed. It used to be black.
Was she—?
No, they had to be different people!
His hand moved around hers that was around the bars and a spark of recognition glimmered in her eyes.
“Belladonna?” He asked.
A smile crossed her lips, tears filling her eyes, as all her memories with him flashed before her eyes at their contact. “Jyris!” She declared her voice filled with emotion. She looked around frantically at the cage, fear in her eyes. “Tell them to get me out of here, Jyris. I must speak to you. I must speak to my father, how is my father?”
With his eyes filled with pleasant surprise, he finally said, “Xinora.”
“Yes,” she nodded, tears in her eyes, her smile unwavering. “It is I, your Xinora.”