Back in the Founders Hall…
The hall was no longer a place of peace.
Screams tore through the air. The smell of incense was replaced by the scent of burning cloth and blood. The moment Amariah's arrow was blocked by the Guardian King's blade, the people of Salem erupted, drawing concealed blades and striking at the stunned Edenites around them.
Warriors clashed.
Mats were thrown, pillows scattered, and the stage was quickly surrounded by chaos. Some Edenites tried to run—others joined the fight.
Mariah was ushered out by her maid and a group of armored warriors through the left corridor, her face pale, one hand protectively over her womb.
Amariah did not stop. She leapt from the stage, arrow after arrow flying toward Rex. Four warriors intercepted her, blades whirling, movements sharp and disciplined.
But Amariah was a storm.
She struck down the first with a broken spear shaft, smashed the second's knee, dodged a sword slash, and drove her elbow into a third warrior's throat. The fourth tried to flank her—but she spun, kicked him off the stage, and kept moving.
Toward Rex.
He still knelt beside the dying actor, his hand glowing faintly as he tried to slow the boy's disintegration.
The Guardian King stood guard at his back, but Rex raised his voice over the din:
"Get the children and the pregnant women to the Sanctuary. Protect it at all cost!"
The Guardian King gritted his teeth. "But Father, we need you—"
"Obey me!" Rex roared.
For a heartbeat, the Guardian King stared at him. Then he nodded once, and vanished into the smoke-filled crowd with a flash of lightning trailing behind him.
Then—
A whistle pierced the air.
A blur landed between Rex and Amariah—knees bent, a long cloak trailing behind her.
The Moonlight Huntress.
Two crescent-shaped blades in her hands. Her eyes locked on Amariah's, no words spoken.
They moved at once.
Steel met steel.
Arrows met blades.
Amariah fought like a woman possessed—anger, grief, and vengeance in every strike. But the Huntress was silent, swift, deadly. She matched Amariah move for move, pushing her back, never letting her near Rex.
Their duel was a dance of fury and precision, sending waves of warriors tumbling aside.
From his place on the floor, Mark watched it all, unable to speak. Beside him, David had already drawn a blade, eyes cold, his demeanor no longer childlike. He rose.
"Stay low," David said. "This is war now."
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