The air was thick — no, oppressive now.
The suffocating weight of her presence alone made the adventurers tense and the townsfolk instinctively retreat. No one had sensed her until she was already there. And now, it was too late.
Sylva's lips parted before her mind could stop them.
"C-Cassandra…?"
The name broke the silence like a thrown stone shattering glass.
The woman's violet eyes flicked toward her, a devilish smile blooming on perfect lips. "Ah, Sylva. It's been too long. How are you holding up, now that the Night Reapers are scattered to the wind?"
Sylva stiffened. Leon, standing beside her, caught the subtle twitch in her jaw — a ghost of old scars, long since thought buried.
Selvanna's gaze narrowed like a blade being honed. Her grey eyes, always sharp, turned lethal as they flicked between Sylva and the enigmatic woman.
"Cassandra… by any chance…" Selvanna began, each word edged with suspicion, "are you Cassandra? The Phantom Queen. Leader of the most dangerous assassins ever to crawl through the underworld's gutters?"
Envy's grin widened as she placed a hand on her hip. "Mmm. I suppose I was. Once. But that name died in the last war, didn't it?"
Selvanna's fingers grazed the hilt of her sword. "The reports said you perished during the demon siege. Explain how you're standing here now — before I cut you down."
Envy's voice was pure silk. "Oh, darling. Cassandra died that day. Burned away by the abyss. And in her place, something better was born."
She raised one hand to her chest, her violet eyes gleaming like twin stars. "I am ENVY. Executioner, commander of the demon legions and Ruler of the Sin of Envy."
The title fell upon them like a guillotine blade.
Before the echoes of her words could even settle, Selvanna moved.
A streak of silver.
The clash of air displaced at impossible speed.
A sword drawn so fast it seemed summoned from thin air.
Seris was already weaving sigils, threads of wind magic tightening around Envy like invisible chains. Aeron hefted his axe with a grunt, muscles tensing to strike.
Selvanna was there — at Envy's throat — her sword gleaming under the dying light.
And then…
The world cracked.
A shockwave burst from the point of contact, sending dust and splinters skittering across the ground. Selvanna's blade was stopped, but not by Envy.
A hand held it.
Slender, pale, immaculate. Like a sculptor's work given life.
Selvanna's eyes darted up, and her blood ran cold.
The newcomer stood tall — a young woman, no older than Envy, but with an aura so ancient it made the earth itself seem young. Majestic. Otherworldly. Skin the color of moonlit scales shimmered beneath the dusk, and slitted golden eyes gleamed with lazy amusement. Small horns curled elegantly from her brow, and a long, sinuous tail flicked behind her like a whip.
A Dragonkin.
Selvanna pulled back instantly, a predator recognizing a superior in the chain.
The Dragonkin sighed, shaking her head in mock disappointment.
"Honestly, Envy. If I hadn't been here, you would've lost that pretty head of yours. Careless much?"
Envy chuckled, dispelling the wind magic around her with a flick of her fingers — as if the bindings were cobwebs and not masterwork spellcraft.
"You fret too much, Zevara. A scratch like that wouldn't kill me."
She turned, lazily eyeing the stunned group.
"Besides, I knew you'd catch it."
The Holy Knights and Crimson Vow party stood frozen, the balance of power tipping dangerously.
Zevara gave a lazy smile, still holding Selvanna's blade between two fingers before she gently let it go. "You lot have no idea what kind of storm you're standing in, do you?"
The deadly quiet that followed was near unbearable.
Envy's smile lingered as she stepped forward, her gaze passing over Leon and his party. "Well then… isn't this turning out to be a delightful little reunion."
Her violet gaze lingered on Sylva, lips curled in that half-mocking, half-knowing smile that had haunted nightmares long before it belonged to her. The silence was thick as oil until her voice cut through, honeyed and cruel.
"Tell me, Sylva… did you enjoy the news? About a certain someone who met a tragic end?" She tilted her head, feigning a sympathetic sigh. "Such a shame, wasn't it? Lord Veylan, reduced to little more than red stains on stone."
Sylva said nothing. Her face was carved from ice, but Leon saw the twitch of her fingers at her side — a ghost of the storm she kept chained inside.
A new voice spoke, calm and laced with veiled accusation.
"A curious sight," murmured Seris Alune, his pale green hair catching the sunlight. His voice was mist and silk. "A dragonkin in Solmaria's heart, aiding a human of all things."
All eyes turned to Zevara.
The dragonkin stood with the unshaken poise of a predator amongst prey. Golden, slitted eyes regarded them all as lesser things.
"I serve Envy," she said simply, voice low and smooth as molten gold. "That is all you need know."
The words rippled through the gathered company like a cold wind. Even Selvanna's practiced veneer cracked for a heartbeat, a flicker in her storm-grey eyes. Dragonkin were proud creatures — ancient, rare, and unbent by mortal affairs. For one to stand at a demon's side spoke of a threat far deeper than a war.
But Selvanna let none of that show on her face. Her fingers brushed the hilt of her sword.
"Then answer this," she said, sharp and steady. "Why are you here?"
Envy gave a languid shrug, as if the tension weren't coiled tight enough to snap.
"Oh, the usual," she mused. "Delivering a message. Cleaning up old filth. Making room for new horrors. You know how it is."
Selvanna's mind raced, pieces falling into place. The slaughter at Veylan's estate. The trail of blood through Solmaria's streets. The shadows thickening along the borders.
She drew her sword.
"Leon. Crimson Vow. Ready yourselves."
There was no hesitation. Every hand went to blade and staff. The Hollow Blades emerged from the crowd, weapons drawn, falling in alongside them.
Velis, grinning wide, gave them a mock salute. "Glad you guys decided to keep your promise."
Krevic of the Hollow Blades met her gaze with a grim nod. "We don't run from death, girl. We dance with it."
Envy's grin stretched wider, predatory and delighted.
"Oh, good," she purred. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
Then, like smoke rising from a dying ember, two more figures stepped from the shadows.
Azrah, regal and merciless, her pale features touched by otherworldly grace. And beside her, Morthen, a mountain of a demon with eyes like dead coals.
They knelt before Envy and Zevara.
"At your command, my lady."
Envy's voice was a dagger drawn in the dark. "Kill the Hollow Blades." She turned to Zevara. "And you — play with the holy knights. Leave them crawling at death's door. I want them alive, barely."
Zevara's lips curled in mild amusement. "Fine. I'll do as you wish."
Selvanna's sword caught the moonlight. "For Solmaria."
And without hesitation, the combatants divided to meet their assigned deaths.
Azrah and Morthen turned to face the Hollow Blades, while Zevara stepped towards the Holy Knights, a flicker of disinterest in her golden, slitted eyes. And there at the center, Envy stood before the Crimson Vow, a smile on her lips, violet eyes reflecting the bloodlust in the air.
Krevic, with his wiry frame and storm-grey eyes, drew his slender rapier and charged at Azrah alongside Sarn the Whisperer, daggers gleaming with poison, and Beran of Black Hollow, his broadsword already in motion. Naraine Quickstep, twin blades in hand, lunged at Morthen alongside Jorik Flintbone, his massive axe humming through the air, while Kaelith Varn raised a hand to summon a torrent of fire.
The clash was instant.
Kaelith's fireballs screamed through the evening sky and struck nearby stalls, sending wood and debris into the air, igniting the road. Screams echoed from townsfolk as they scattered, the flames devouring the night.
Morthen moved like a creature unbound by mortal limits. He caught Naraine mid-air by the throat with one hand, the other catching Jorik's battle axe as though it weighed nothing.
Across from him, Azrah danced through their attacks, her movements liquid and taunting.
"Pests like you," she sneered, "have no place in Mistress Envy's new world."
Krevic snarled, darting in with a rapier thrust. Azrah sidestepped, the blade missing her by an inch. Sarn lunged, daggers flashing in a deadly arc, while Beran's broadsword followed in perfect harmony. But Azrah only smiled, twisting and slipping through their attacks like mist.
"I expected more," she hummed.
Behind them, Morthen's grip tightened around Naraine's neck. Her face contorted in agony as she kicked and clawed, but the demon only laughed. He slammed her into the ground before impaling her through the stomach with his hand. A strangled scream escaped her lips.
"Pathetic," he chuckled.
Kaelith, eyes blazing with fury, unleashed a storm of ice spears, their jagged edges glinting.
Morthen grabbed Naraine's still-twitching body, raising it like a shield as the spears struck. The icicles tore through flesh and bone. The Hollow Blades recoiled in horror.
Krevic growled, lunging again. This time Azrah didn't dodge. She caught his wrist, twisting it painfully until his rapier clattered to the ground. In a blur, she struck the hilt against his jaw, sending him reeling.
Sarn barely registered the movement before her arms were severed at the elbows, her daggers tumbling to the dirt. Azrah caught one blade midair and drove it through Sarn's throat. She kicked the other dagger and it flew across the clearing, aiming itself towards Beran's leg.
Beran roared, raising his broadsword to strike, but the impact of the thrown dagger jarred his grip, splintering his blade with a shriek of metal.
Azrah retrieved Krevic's fallen rapier and twirled it once before tossing it lazily back to him.
"Two down," Azrah remarked, smirking as she stood beside Morthen once more. "Only four left."
Morthen grinned, blood staining his teeth. "This is getting fun."