Thorgoth watched Frances rise, and raised one hand, beckoning her. He was grinning, absolutely at ease.

Frances burst into song, but instead of her more primal song, she screamed, like her mother sometimes did, and punched Ivy’s Sting forward.

Bright blue magic thrust out from the tip of her wand like a lance. Thorgoth flicked his and threw up a purple shield. Except this lance cleaved through the shield, and slammed into the king’s chest. Gasping, Thorgoth was thrown onto his ass, his armor dented where the magic had hit it.

Frances had no qualms about hitting the king while he was down. She raised both hands and braced herself. She plunged her voice down low, her throat shivering as she hit the tone Ivy’s Sting conveyed to her. The spell turned the soil underneath Thorgoth to mud, which exploded up towards the king, forming tentacle-like appendages that seized the king and began to drag him into the earth.

Bellowing, Thorgoth’s head disappeared into the muck for a moment, before the mud suddenly exploded upwards and the filthy king sprang to his feet, tail flicking away dirt. He raised his wand and looping bolts of magic twisted towards Frances. She leaped and rolled, before firing a sizzling beam of red at Thorgoth, which forced him to twist out of the way. He almost got another spell off but Frances continued to fire, picking and choosing from the spells that Ivy offered her, forcing him on the defensive.

Many of these spells Frances had only read of and were from the arsenal of Ivy’s first wielder, Yvonne the Shaman Slayer. Her speciality had been breaking or circumventing enemy shields with powerful and inventive spells.

There was the Ground-Hugger that Frances had used earlier. Now she used the “Shield-Melter” which summoned red sludge that stuck to the king’s shields and ate through the magic. Thorgoth ran, dispelling his shield as he did so, continuing to fire back bolts of his own.

Frances dodged and continued to rain magic on the retreating king. Her spells smashed through his shields, barely missing the king. Once in a while, she’d hit him. A vicious, drill-like spell shattered Thorgoth’s shields and tore off his right pauldron. The spatter from barely dodged “Shield-Melter” coated the king’s side, melting into his armor and causing him to wince. She managed to even score a glancing hit on his arm with her lightning spell after she forced Thorgoth to his knee with another lance spell.

That had provoked the strongest reaction from the king. He growled, his arm spasming and smoking. Frances, although not daring to hope, smiled and readied another spell to try to wound the king, if not put him down.

“Right, you’ve had enough fun!” Thorgoth swept his wand in a slashing motion, stringing together several Words of Power. None of them meant well and Frances immediately thrust her magic into her armor.

The enchanted armor activated, blocking a hail of icicles that had materialized over her head. They continued to rain down, while the king waved his wand over his arm. Frances screamed a quick aria to banish the icicles and summoned vines that reached for Thorgoth. He unleashed a wave of fire that burnt them to a crisp.

And suddenly, just like that, the king was back on the offensive and all Frances could do was to block the barrage of deadly, multicolored spells that were trying to kill her.

“What’s going on? How is he doing this?” Frances thought to Ivy, as she dodged.

Her wand, explained in a resigned tone, He’s king Thorgoth and he’s the most powerful mage on this continent. He’s definitely stronger than you and Edana, even if you combined your magic. And now he’s taking you seriously.

“Shit,” Frances whispered.

Timur may know how to make himself invisible, but most of the time he usually put himself under a kind of “don’t look at me” spell. This was an optical illusion that didn’t vanish him completely from sight, but made him hard to look, or even notice. It wouldn’t work if someone was looking for him, but it did the trick when running through a chaotic battlefield filled with Alavari trying to chase humans.

He rounded a tent to find just in time to catch his father getting hit in the arm with Frances’s spell. At that moment, His heart plunged into his throat.

They’d prepared extensively for Frances losing. He knew that the moment she either screamed for help, or shot either a mechanical or magical flare into the sky, he was to intervene and whisk Frances out of there. And if she didn’t do either and started to falter badly, he was to save her. But after all this time, he’d never envisioned the possibility that his love might just kill his father.

He swallowed, looking away. He couldn’t bear to watch.

Then Thorgoth bellowed. Timur snapped his eyes back at the fight and froze. Before his eyes his father barraged Frances with spell after spell. It was as if he’d never been losing the fight.

The air was filled with the sound of Thorgoth’s Words of Power, and Frances’s almost hysterical singing, punctuated by the crackle of the energy being thrown out. He’d seen, and experienced fighting Frances before. It was like being hit with a storm and that was a year ago. She’d only gotten better.

Except, Thorgoth was just taking the few spells Frances managed and returning them even harder. Frances barely attacked now. She was running, dodging or blocking the bolts and whipping gashes of magic thrown at her. Sometimes she rolled in behind tents that Thorgoth just blasted through with gusts of wind, or columns of fire that he’d call down to engulf the entire area. Frances was only surviving through luck and some rather good reflexes.

Timur ran after the duellists. He didn’t like how this was going. Frances was racing towards the rocks at the end of the island. Well, not racing. She was trying to circle around Thorgoth but anytime she tried to circle around, his spells were carving up ruts in the dirt, several feet long. As hard as she tried to fight back, she was fully on the defensive and being herded into a corner.

And to make matters worse, Timur could see that every shield she was putting up was getting smaller, and smaller. Some were even shattering at his father’s spells.

He swallowed. Should he act? The boat and their stores were hidden under an illusion at that part of the island. That’s probably why Frances was running that way. However, with the way the fight was going… could she make it?

Except, Frances hadn’t signalled him yet. She was still fighting.

Timur took a deep breath. Right, he had to remain calm. She was still holding on, backing away towards the rocky outcrop, and shielding as best she could against Thorgoth’s spells. Purple bolt after bolt twisted towards her and Frances managed to dodge, or block them.

Until suddenly, a column of earth erupted from the ground and slammed into Frances’s left side. She flew into the air, tumbling head over heels and thudded into the ground, rolling several times.

Timur stared in shock as his father strode towards the downed mage.

“Aw, don’t tell me you’re knocked out already. Come on. Wake up.” He pointed his wand at the still girl and chanted a discordant note. Purple magic, arched like lightning, hit Frances and she began to writhe, screaming. Somehow she held onto her wand, and somehow she threw a tent at him, only for Thorgoth to grab it with his magic and toss it aside. Snorting, the king pointed his wand at Frances and levitated her into the air. To Timur’s horror, she was awake, but her face was contorted in agony. There was bone sticking out from her left forearm and a bruise was already forming on her face. She tried to cast a spell, but Thorgoth ripped the wand from her grip and tossed it aside.

Timur raised his wand. Screw the signal, it was time to save his girlfriend. Time to… to fight his father.

The prince hesitated, but only for a moment. The sight of his beloved so helpless and so broken was enough motivation. He opened his mouth to throw a spell at his father.

“Hey son, I know you’re there,” Thorgoth crooned.

Timur froze. No way. That was impossible—

“Do you think I’m stupid, boy? You have feelings for this wretched human. You are pointing your wand at me right now. Put it down, or I will send her back to her abusive parents.”

“Timur don’t—” Thorgoth wrapped his left hand around Frances’s throat and lifted her into the air. She beat at him with her free hand and kicked him as hard as she could, but he was in armor. Frances’s left arm was broken. Her struggles were getting weaker and weaker by the second.

Timur had no idea what to do. If he put his wand down… they were lost. If he didn’t, Frances would die and be sent back to the Otherworld. If he attacked… well that wouldn’t go well, his father still had his wand pointed at her.

But he had to try. He couldn’t give up.

Timur fired a quick bolt and another. Simple kinetic spells meant to just unbalance the king and force his grip off. He aimed them at his father’s side. Even if Thorgoth knew where he was, there was no way that he’d know where he was.

His father dodged the first one. Still holding onto Frances’s neck, the king yanked her into the path of the second.

Timur’s heart broke as his bolt of magic punched into Frances’s back and she flailed. He was so shocked, he nearly got hit by his father’s counterspell. Only by rolling and running as fast as could did he manage to lose his father’s attention and get out of his field of vision.

Frances was almost limp, but at that moment, his father dropped her on the ground. She gasped, holding onto her neck, sucking in deep gasps of air.

“That’s it. Timur, you are getting punished.” Thorgoth took a deep breath and started to sing. A purple shield rose around him, but it was clear enough for Timur to see through. Then another, and another and… Timur stared as layer upon layer of shields surrounded his father, encompassing him in all directions.

The why hit Timur as soon as Thorgoth stopped singing and trod towards Frances, who was trying to get her sword out of her scabbard. With one hand it was impossible. Thorgoth kicked her arm aside and stomped on it.

Frances screamed, and kept screaming as Thorgoth stomped on her right shin. Although the crack of bone was soft, it deafened Timur.

“I’d rape her in front of you, son, but that’d mean taking my armor off. So I’ll have to settle with breaking her bones.”

Timur lost his concentration on the illusion spell. His heart pounding, his mouth moving faster than his mind could think. He fired spell after spell at his father’s shields.

The first one started to crack and shattered, but there were more underneath.

And his father was already stomping on Frances’s other leg. Her screams were tearing through his ears. Timur could barely see through the tears. He wasn’t hurt, and yet his heart felt like it was ripping into pieces. He was bellowing something, and it took a second for him to realize that it was him.

“Father stop! Stop please! Don’t hurt her! Stop! I’ll do anything! Kill me! Kill me please! Don’t do this! I’ll do anything! Anything!”

Thorgoth looked up from where he’d finished making sure Frances’s arms and limbs were all broken with a look that seemed to be… curious.

“Anything?” Thorgoth asked, tilting his head.

Timur fell to his knees, throwing his wand to the ground. “Anything? Just… let her go, please.”

His father arched an eyebrow. “First, cut your own tail off.”

Timur hesitated for a split-second, but the sight of Frances at his father’s mercy, her arms and legs at angles no human ought to be, steeled his resolve. He could see the horror in her amber eyes, telling him not to do it.

Except he knew his father would do worse if he waited any longer. It didn’t matter that a tail was a key part of a troll’s body, particularly in helping a troll balance. It didn’t matter that it was a sign of dignity, he already had seen his father hurt Frances, he couldn’t bear to see her hurt any longer.

He drew his dagger, grabbed his tail and carved half of it off.

Frances had never been in worse pain in her life. She couldn’t move. Every inch of her body hurt. Both her forearms and forelegs were broken. Tears were streaming down her face and she couldn’t even wipe them. Her throat felt wrong. It hurt to talk, to breathe, to make a sound.

Still, nothing hurt more than seeing Timur cutting his tail off. It wasn’t easy like chopping a rib or cutting a piece of meat. No, the young troll was crying as he had to use his dagger to slice through the sinew and tendon until he brandished half his tail in his hand by the tuft.

“T-there… w-what else?” Timur stammered.

Frances croaked, tried to tell him no, but all she could do was wheeze and even that was almost unbearable.

Thorgoth, smiling now, dismissed the shields, lowering each one slowly. He bent down and drew Alanna, Frances’s estoc, from its sheath. She couldn’t even protest as he tossed the weapon to Timur.

“Give me your wand, and plunge that into your stomach and I’ll leave you both here, but I won’t hurt either of you any more,” said Thorgoth, smiling.

“No!” Frances croaked.

Timur, hands shaking, took the sword in his hand and looked up at his father. “You… you promise?”

“I make no promises, but…” Thorgoth prodded Frances’s broken arm with the tip of his metal-plated boot. She tried to stay quiet, but she flinched nonetheless. “If you don’t, you know what I’ll do.”

Frances shook her head. She tried to convey with her eyes to her prince. To the prince that was staring at the sword he’d been given, her sword. She was trying to tell him it was alright, that it was fine if she died. She’d still be alive. He had to go, run, leave and live.

Because she’d failed. She’d lost. She’d lost so horribly that all their plans had turned to ash. This wasn’t Timur’s fault. It was hers and because of her, Ivy’s Sting was going to fall into Thorgoth’s hand, Timur was going to die, and she was going to be sent back, away from her friends and family, watching the one she loved die in front of her. All to stop her from being tortured.

“Okay.” Timur took a deep breath and looked right at her, forcing a quivering smile onto his handsome face. “Frances, it isn’t your fault. It’s his. I love you, I love you so much. So please, love yourself for me, okay?”

Frances froze as the prince took the sword’s blade in his hands, and pointed the tip at himself. The world seemed to slow.

Timur loved her? After all of this? After she failed so wretchedly? After he cut his tail off for her? And even after all that, he didn’t think it was her fault. Her prince wanted her to love herself?

She sniffled and smiled, for what else could she do, when Timur’s words brought so much pain and warmth to her heart? What could she do when he made her feel good about herself, even when she’d failed so terribly?

Thorgoth rolled his eyes. “Oh for crying out loud. You’re taking too long.” He took several steps forward and before Timur could react, the king grabbed the estoc and shoved forward.

It was at that moment that Frances screamed. All she could think of was stopping the king, and saving her prince. She threw every last bit of magic into that one note. At the same time, in desperation, out of sheer instinct, she forced her lips and aching throat to form two Words of Power, and shape it to the note she sang out of love and for herself.

Get away!

Thorgoth was pushing forward in one moment. In a flash he was flying through the air, spinning comically away into the blue sky. Timur, standing with the estoc in hand, found the blade ripped from his grasp. The estoc spun several times before embedding itself into the ground behind the prince.

As her vision started to go dark, Frances could make out that Timur was unhurt, his shirt only punctured. She saw him stare at her for a moment, before running towards her, and she knew no more.

Timur could see his father sailing hundreds of meters into the air far towards the Alavaria side of the river as he ran towards Frances. Still biting back the pain, he tried to search for his wand, only to remember his father had pocketed it.

“Timur! Here!” he heard a voice. Blinking, he saw Ivy’s Sting in the ground, and running over he picked her up.

“Help! Frances—”

I know I know! But first, reattach your tail first!

Timur, wincing, grabbed both halves of his bleeding tail and gasped as Ivy drew on his magic and helped him to put it together. The wand must have also applied some kind of numbing spell because the pain subsided.

Yet he knew immediately that his tail would never be the same. The back half hung limply as he gave it an experimental flick. Swallowing, he pushed his sorrow aside and ran to Frances.

Somehow, Frances was unconscious, and only bleeding from where the bone of her left arm was showing. There was no time to heal the breaks, so Timur, letting Ivy guide his magic, quickly splinted her limbs, applied a bandage to the open wound, and after retrieving Frances’s estoc, levitated her to the boat.

No words needed to be exchanged. Both Timur and Ivy knew that Thorgoth wasn’t dead and wouldn’t die from such an impact. Still, just as they levitated Frances into the rowboat Timur had prepared, they heard a roar that made them both jump.

“Timur, you’re going to wish you and your human whore were dead when I’m done with you!”

Timur swallowed. “Shit.”

Yup. Now let’s get going. Though, I wonder, have they blown the bridges—

Two muffled explosions sounded and Timur, knowing that time was of the essence, leapt into the rowboat and pushed off with the oar. Making sure they were on the human side of the river, he took a deep breath, pointed Ivy’s Sting at the oars and activated the enchantment on them.

Without further ado, the oars began to paddle the boat against the current. It wasn’t fast, but against the river’s slow flow, it was sufficient that in half an hour minutes, the island of Delbarria and the ruins began to disappear into the distance.

Only when they started to go into the forest did Timur let out a sigh of relief.

“Ivy, thank you,” he rasped.

No, thank you. You… you saved her.

“Frances saved herself. Particularly with that last spell.” Timur frowned. “What… what was that spell? Did you teach that to her? It sounded… it sounded strange.”

I didn’t. That… if I’m not mistaken… I heard a Word of Power together with song.”

Timur’s eyes widened. “Wait, song magic and Words of Power together?”

It was only two words. She wanted Thorgoth to get away from you. That’s why he went flying, but how did she do it? It hasn’t been possible in centuries!

“Well, she is Frances Windwhistler.” Timur tried to smile, only for it to fade as he looked at Frances. Her bruised face, her broken and battered body. “Ivy, help me, she needs more healing.”

Of course. Though… I don’t think we’ll be able to heal her bones. I… I don’t know any healing spells like that.

“And neither do I.” The prince gritted his teeth and being careful not to unbalance the vessel, stepped up beside the unconscious girl to take off her helmet. “But we can make sure she’s not bleeding inside and set the bones better.”

He felt an affirmative from the wand. Good idea.

The healing that Timur could do didn’t take long, but even after he finished, all he could do was sit and watch Frances sleep.

The fight was over, and yet his heart was still pounding. His tail didn’t ache anymore, but there was still a… lack of feeling that he was beginning to realize was the damage that he’d done.

He felt empty and yet full, like he was still fighting, only he wasn’t. His hands shivered every once in a while for no reason and every time he thought they wouldn’t stop, they went still.

A buzzing noise woke Timur from the fitful, sitting-up nap he hadn’t realize he’d taken. It was coming from Frances’s belt. As carefully as he could, the Alavari withdrew the hand mirror from the belt and opened it to find Edana staring back up at him.

The Firehand was singed, but she looked unhurt. Her eyes were wild, though, and desperate.

“Timur! Where’s Frances. Where’s my daughter?” she demanded.

“She’s alive.” Timur turned the mirror to show Frances. His heart fell as Edana made a keening moan that had he not heard Frances screams this day, would have been probably one of the worst sounds he’d ever heard. “We just made it out. I…” He wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. I messed up. I messed up so bad. Dad knew, or guessed, he knew I’d be watching and he tortured her in front of me and I couldn’t do anything except cut off my stupid tail and try to kill myself, except Frances saved me because she’s awesome and I’m so useless I couldn’t even fulfil my end of the plan and I don’t even know how to heal her broken bones. I’m so sorry Edana—”

“Shut up!” Edana spat. She was sobbing too, touching her mirror with her hand, as if trying to reach out to Timur, who touched the mirror as well. “You… you got her out of there. That’s… oh thank the Gods you did.”

Timur sniffled, and wiped his eyes. “That… that was Ivy’s Sting. I just… I just did what she told me.”

“Nonsense, you helped too. You have my thanks. You both have my thanks,” Edana stammered. She blinked and frowned. “What’s… what’s this about cutting your tail off and killing yourself. Wait, you cut your tail off?”

Timur flicked his half-limp tail over his shoulder and winced at the sight. “I reattached it. Dad… he was going to hurt her more.”

Edana blinked again and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “Timur… I can’t imagine what you are feeling.”

“It doesn’t matter. I failed Frances and she’s hurt—”

“You nearly killed yourself to save her life!” Ivy’s Sting hissed, to Edana and Timur’s audible surprise. “You were about to stab yourself to save her. It’s not your fault!”

To Timur’s dismay, Edana nodded. “I agree. It… it may take some time to accept that, though, Timur. So… get some rest. Eat something. You have a long journey ahead.”

The prince swallowed and nodded. “Thank you, Lady Firehand. And… how are you? So I can tell Frances?”

“Sebastian, the delegates, myself, Ayax and Elizabeth all made it out safely. So don’t worry your head. The war is starting again, but that’s to be expected. Just focus on getting some rest for tonight, okay?” Edana said soothingly.

Timur, yawned and blinked. It was dusk already and he hadn’t even realized it. Sleep… sounded really good. He just needed to put a few warning spells up.

“Alright Lady Firehand, and… thank you, for the advice,” he said. He knew he sounded lame, but Edana only smiled.

“Call me Edana, Timur. Now… get some rest,” she said. She closed the mirror. Timur, too tired to resist, put some warning spells up, weighed anchor in the middle of the river, and lay down to sleep as best he could.

He had no idea that the most stunning development of the day was happening as he closed his eyes.

Titania hadn’t stopped at the nearby castle. She and Antigones were in a fast carriage, travelling hard for their territory when Thorgoth called her.

Opening her mirror, Titania blinked at the scowl on her father’s features, and had to resist a sigh of relief. There was only one reason why her father would be that angry.

“Titania, your brother, Timur has betrayed Alavaria and has escaped with Frances Windwhistler. You are to either apprehend or kill those two as soon as you can.”

Titania pursed her lips and tilted her head slightly. “Father, aren’t we at peace—”

Thorgoth slammed the table he was sitting at, making his mirror jump. “Don’t fuck around with me, Titania. You know I had no intention of signing a peace with anybody but Roranoak. I wanted the Firehand and Prince Sebastian dead and a peace conference was the best way to get those fools here. Now, do you agree to kill your brother or not!”

Trying to still her beating heart, Titania glanced at Antigones. The orc, out of Thorgoth’s view, gently wrapped an arm around her waist and squeezed. Her husband’s way of showing that she had his complete support, no matter what decision she made.

“Father, you do realize how bad it looks, making another princess of Alavaria kill a prince of Alavaria.”

“Titania, I am your father and you’ll do as you’re told.” Thorgoth sneered. “Unless you’re defying me as well?”

The trogre shook her head. “I prefer not to, father, but I can’t agree with this course of action.”

Her father narrowed his eyes and drummed his fingers on the table.

“You told him about how I trained you, didn’t you? That’s why he’s turned against me.” The king’s eyes were narrowed and bright with gleeful scorn. “That’s why he’s defected. It’s not just that human mage. You twisted him against me with some sob story about your training. The training that made you who you are; deadly and powerful.”

Titania couldn’t speak. She didn’t know how her father could always do this, make her feel small and helpless and yet paralyze her with indignant fury. He was miles from her, and yet she felt like she was staring up at him, punished by his cold black eyes.

“I told him nothing but the truth,” she managed.

“You lied to him. You didn’t tell him how many you killed didn’t you, or how much you enjoy hurting people. You didn’t admit to him that you could have stood up to me long ago, but you decided to keep serving me.” Thorgoth chortled and leaned toward his mirror. “But you see… I reward those who are loyal to Alavaria, Titania. Kill that weakling brother of yours and his human whore, I will gift you Frances’s Named Wand, which I’m quite certain is Yvonne the Shaman Slayer’s Spellbinder.”

Titania flinched, even now she couldn’t believe that she’d been tortured by Spellbinder, the most powerful wand on the continent, and that it had given its allegiance to Frances. A few years ago, when she’d been desperate for any kind of power and the illusion of safety it provided, the offer would have been tempting.

“If you don’t fulfil your duty, Titania, I will strip you and your husband of your lands and you and your followers will be treated as an enemy of Alvaria, rebels. I know you are preparing to fight, but do you really want to risk all the lives in your care, the people who swore loyalty to you, just so you can unseat your father? Just so that you can become queen?” Thorgoth hissed.

Titania stared at her father, her expression blank, before she glanced at the wide-eyed and smirking, Antigones. Then she finally looked at the white bone crown that she was holding onto in her left hand.

“Your Majesty, it is your right and choice. We are with you to whatever end.” Whitey whispered into her mind.

The trogre’s lips split into a grin. “Dear, can you hold onto this please?” Antigones took the hand mirror, allowing Titania to let go. With both hands, she raised Whitey and set the crown onto her head.

Watching her father’s smile get wiped right off his face and his jaw drop open was just… the greatest.

“Well, it’s a good thing that you’re not the true ruler of Alavaria, father. I am,” Titania said as regally as she could through her smirk.

“And that makes you the rebel and usurper, Thorgoth, you wanker!” Whitey crowed as her father just stared in abject shock.

“How—”

“So I won’t be killing my brother, father. In fact, I’m going to be helping him. Consider this my official declaration that you’re a rebel and I’m going to put you down.” Titania drew a finger across her neck and Antigones obliged her by shutting the mirror.

“Well, the boulder is rolling. Where to?” Antigones asked.

Titania smiled at her husband. “To our army. But first… I need to make an announcement. Can we get as many lords as we can together on a call?”

“I’ll need some help from Aralik, but yes,” said Antigones. His grin widened. “You’re going to show them all Whitey and the messages from Teutobal and Allaniel.”

Titania nodded. “Yeah, magical recordings can be faked, but not when viewed in front of a magic mirror. They’ll question if Whitey is real or an illusion, but coupled with those messages…”

“It will turn those who are undecided, and those are going to be the Alavari that will want to hear us out,” said Titania.

Whitey growled, “We’ll have to act fast. I do not doubt Thorgoth is mobilizing his armies.”

Titania nodded and let out a long sigh. “I… I hope I’m doing the right thing. I mean, I thought we could dither, but he wasn’t taking no for an answer and I can’t hunt down my own brother. Especially when he has to go rescue Morgan.”

“That and the longer we sit on these revelations, the less useful they become.” Antigones stroked his beard and shook his head. “Better to strike now when Thorgoth has just re-declared war against the human kingdoms. He’s now fighting a war on two fronts and we’ve thrown a massive wrench into his plans.”

Her husband’s words did reassure Queen Titania, but she couldn’t help but feel a bit worried. No, her father hadn’t anticipated this, but he had known she wanted to rebel. She couldn’t imagine that he had no contingencies for this situation.