Supreme Hunter of Beautiful Souls

The white oak doors creaked open with a deep groan, and the sound echoed through the hall like an ancient lament. Exelia entered first, her steady footsteps reverberating on the polished marble. Liora followed close behind, her crimson cloak billowing like blood dissolving in the breeze.

Moonlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows, casting soft reflections on the silver columns. But what should have been a place of reverence and order was now filled with the tension of betrayal.

Six high elves in ceremonial armor stood in line in front of the main door to the throne room. They turned when they saw them, their faces cold, their silver spears crossed in front of the path.

"You cannot pass," said one of them, his voice firm and empty of emotion. "The Queen will be removed from the throne. Order of the Inner Council."

Exelia frowned. Her hand slid slowly to the hilt of the sword at her waist. "You dare dishonor your oath to the Crown?"

Across the hall, beyond the guarding elves, they could see the beginnings of chaos. The Queen's royal guards were being forcibly disarmed by a second group of high elves—apparently from the traditionally neutral golden leaf caste. Some guards fought back, but they were outnumbered. There was blood. There was magic. One of them was knocked down with a blow from an arcane staff to the temple, the sharp sound of the impact echoing like subtle thunder.

Liora took a step forward, her eyes wide. "They're subduing the Queen's guards! This is outright treason!"

"This is... purification," replied the elf at the center of the formation, his eyes glowing with golden light. "The Queen has failed her people. The Order will take the place that has always been rightfully hers."

"Rightfully?" Exelia laughed, humorlessly. "The Queen welcomed you, gave you a voice, gave you a home within the Circle. And this is how you repay her?"

The elf did not answer. He merely raised his spear. "You shall not pass. For the good of the kingdom."

Silence.

Then the sound of metal sliding was heard. Exelia slowly drew her sword, the black blade forged with moon silver glistening like mist in the moonlight. Liora was already in battle stance, the spear spinning between her fingers like a living extension of her will.

"You have one chance," said Exelia. "Step aside."

"We are the ones giving you that chance," replied the elf. "Retreat while you still have honor to carry."

Exelia sighed. "Liora?"

"I thought we could resolve this with words. That phase is over."

The first blow came as a surprise. One of the elves fired a golden energy sphere at Liora's chest, but she twisted her body and deflected it with the tip of her spear. The impact exploded against the wall, cracking the marble like broken ice.

And then, the battle began.

Exelia rushed forward, sword in hand, dodging the first thrust with an elegant spin. The blade found an opening between the enemy's armor plates and penetrated deep. A gush of warm blood, and the first fell.

Liora advanced with coordinated violence, each step guided by instinct and training. The spear cut through the air with lethal whistles, opening the flank of one warrior and, in the same movement, knocking down another with a thrust to the shoulder.

The elves were fast. Precise. But they were furious.

"Exelia! Left!"

She turned at the last second, blocking a side attack with her sword guard. Sparks flew. Her eyes met her opponent's—and he hesitated. Just for a second. It was enough.

Exelia headbutted his helmet, hard enough to break his nose. The second sword came from below, burying itself in his stomach up to the hilt.

Liora spun around and made room with an agile jump, knocking down two with a sweeping blow of her spear. One of them tried to get up, but she stepped on his chest, immobilizing him.

"You are not worthy of the Kingdom you claim to serve!" she shouted. "Look at what you are doing!"

Across the hall, the last royal guards were being overpowered. Some lay unconscious or bleeding. Others were pushed against the walls by restraining spells. The door to the throne room began to close.

"They're going to close the entrance!" Liora shouted.

Exelia ran. She left two bodies behind. She passed between the fallen elves and pushed the moving portal with her shoulder.

"Not today."

With a roar, she crossed the entrance and held the door from the inside. Liora came right behind her, jumping over the rubble and bodies, throwing herself in at the last second.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Both were panting. Sweaty. With blood—from others and themselves—running down their arms. But they were alive.

And on the other side of that room... was the Queen.

But something was wrong.

She was on her knees, the tiara torn from her head. A group of high elves in priestly robes and impassive features surrounded her. One of them carried a dark artifact—an ancient seal, used only in the Council's final judgments.

Liora gripped her spear so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

"They're going to seal her soul..." Exelia whispered, "No. Not while I'm breathing."

The throne room became an execution ground.

Exelia advanced like a living blade, striking down two priests with a single fluid motion. One of them tried to cast a curse, but his skull was split open by a sharp blow from her short sword. Blood stained the marble floor, mixing with the moonlight streaming through the broken stained-glass windows.

Liora plunged among the remaining spellcasters with holy fury. The spear spun like an extension of her rage, piercing throats and hearts with cruel precision. An elf attempted to raise an arcane shield—Liora simply smashed the barrier with a vertical strike, and the energy shattered into shards like fine glass. The tip of the weapon pierced the spellcaster's eye, and he fell, without uttering a sound.

"They have no honor!" Liora shouted. "They use sealing rituals against their own Queen!"

"They have nothing," Exelia replied, blocking a spell with her forearm and retaliating with a blade of condensed mana that cut through three elves in a single stroke.

The ancient artifact began to glow, pulsing like a darkened heart. The surviving priests huddled together, protecting the seal with concentrated magic, creating a wall of oppressive force. But Exelia and Liora were already among them, breaking bones, tearing spells apart with steel and fury.

One priest tried to flee. Exelia pulled him by his silver hair and decapitated him with a single stroke. The head rolled slowly across the floor until it came to rest at the Queen's feet.

Silence.

All the spellcasters were dead or incapacitated. The seal, cracked, lay amid the bodies and magical embers. The Queen, still kneeling, slowly raised her face, watching the two warriors standing, covered in blood and smoke.

Then...

Footsteps.

They were calm. Uncommitted. A sound almost out of place in that brutal reality.

All eyes—what remained of them—turned to the side entrance of the hall.

A man entered.

He wore simple traveler's clothes, no coat of arms, no armor. His dark hair was tousled by the wind, and a necklace of magical creature teeth hung over his chest. He carried no visible sword, no staff, no runes on his body. But his eyes...

His eyes carried the weight of a thousand battles.

Kael.

Liora took a half step to the side, surprised. Exelia merely raised an eyebrow, without lowering her guard.

The elves still standing—about six of them—automatically turned toward him, forming a defensive semicircle. Spears pointed. Spells ready.

Kael sighed loudly, stopping a few steps away from the blood spattered on the floor.

"Damn it, man..." he said, without raising his voice. "I just came to talk to the Queen. Is all this really necessary?"

"Silence!" shouted one of the spellcasters, his hand trembling under the other's aura. "Surrender immediately, or you will be destroyed!"

Kael scratched his chin, as if considering the idea. He then looked over the elves' shoulders, straight at Aelirenne, the Queen of the Elves, still kneeling, her face now bathed in moonlight. Their eyes met. For a moment, everything was silent.

"You..." he said softly, almost as a statement of fact. "You must be Sylphie's mother."

The hall seemed to hold its breath.

Kael took a step forward. His eyes hardened. "I will say this only once. I will kill anyone who interferes with my goal."

Silence.

Then the Queen spoke.

Her voice, though weak, echoed clearly: "Traitors are not of my people. Do as you will."

It was the sentence.

The first elf fired a burst of golden fire.

Kael raised one hand.

The spell dissipated in the air, like smoke in the wind. The second elf tried to cast a blade of mana... and fell to the ground headless before completing the gesture. Kael stood still, hands in his pockets.

The third widened his eyes and ran. He never made it to the door. A thread of energy passed through him from side to side, evaporating his spine.

Kael walked slowly.

The fourth elf attacked with an ethereal spear.

Kael held the tip with two fingers.

"Elegant. But slow."

He spun the spear. The elf's body was thrown like a rag doll against the wall, cracking the stained glass behind it.

Liora looked at Exelia. "He's a monster when he wants to be..."

The last conjurer trembled. Kael stopped in front of him, eyes fixed.

"You're the one who keeps the seal active, aren't you?"

The elf stammered, eyes filled with tears.

"I-I... was just following orders..."

"So was I," replied Kael, placing his hand on the elf's chest. "Now listen to mine."

A pulse of energy shot through the air like thunder. The elf was disintegrated. The seal shattered into a thousand pieces and exploded into a shower of black crystal.

Silence.

Kael stopped in front of the Queen. She looked up.

"Hello, mother-in-law," Kael said.