💫 Adeline's POV 🪄

The manor was no longer a haven. The sanctuary of gardens and winding stone paths had become a battlefield. I had to admit—these five assassins were formidable opponents. Their presence electrified the air with violence, a sharp contrast to the serenity that once reigned here. The gardens lay in ruins, shattered pots and trampled flowers painting the ground in chaotic hues. The stone paths, once solid and unyielding, now lay cracked beneath the weight of destruction.

They weren't just seasoned killers—they wielded dark magic as well.

I couldn't shake the feeling that others beyond these five had already infiltrated the estate. The oppressive silence in the manor told a grim tale; others had likely already fallen.

My throat tightened as a terrible thought struck me. Even Quentin? It couldn't be.

I should have known better. I had failed to protect them.

I shook my head sharply, dispelling the guilt that threatened to overwhelm me. This wasn't the time for self-recrimination. No one could have foreseen this, but if Lucien had and failed to tell me, I would be deeply disappointed.

One of them darted toward me, moving like a phantom. His blade gleamed, aimed with chilling precision for my vital points. These assassins knew exactly how to kill. A shield of light erupted before me, glowing brilliantly and blinding him. His blade struck the barrier, the force of the blow absorbed before he was sent flying backward, gasping for breath.

Another lunged before I could recover. I spun sharply, a staff of light materializing in my grip. Its radiant hum filled the air as I swung it in a clean arc. The weapon struck his side, sending him sprawling to the ground, his weapon slipping from his grasp.

Without hesitation, the remaining three attacked, their movements perfectly in sync.

"You've been trained well," one of them sneered, his voice dripping with mockery. "Marcus Wycliffe would be proud."

The sound of my father's name sent a jolt through me, but I refused to let it show. My jaw tightened, though my voice remained calm and steady.

"How do you know my father?" The light in my palm shifted, swirling like a restless flame.

"It wasn't hard to know him," the man replied, his grin widening. "One of the viscounts trusted by the Emperor—a man like that makes quite a name for himself." His smirk curled cruelly. "I'm not surprised he taught you to defend yourself. But I wonder... how would he feel knowing his only daughter will die tonight?"

I met his taunt with an unflinching stare. "I admire your confidence." I replied coolly.

Someone—anyone—needed to know what was happening here. Lucien's remaining vassals in Wintermere had to be alerted.

The light in my palm flared brighter, responding to my resolve. I slammed my hand to the ground, causing the tense air to reverberate. A glowing circle of light spread outward, forming an intricate sigil across the earth.

The circle expanded, its radiance stretching further until it reached the manor's bell tower. When the edges of the circle touched the bell, a resonant chime shattered the silence—an urgent call for aid. The light continued to spread, engulfing the entire manor and its gardens.

Within the circle, its healing energy began to take effect. The Circle of Solace couldn't revive the dead, but it could mend wounds and restore strength to those who were still clinging to life—except my enemies.

If anyone in this estate is still alive, let this light reach them.

Realizing what I had done, one of them sneered. "Even if the lords figured out what's going on here, it'll take time for them to arrive. More than enough time for us to finish this." His smirk sharpened. "And all your subordinates are dead by now. So tell me, Duchess—what are you fighting for? Why are you still being stubborn?"

I remained silent, my breathing steady but tense. Their smugness only fueled my resolve, though doubt lingered at the edge of my mind.

What am I fighting for?

Before I could answer, three more figures emerged from the shadows, their heavy boots thudding ominously against the ground.

"Eight against one," I muttered under my breath, trying to keep my voice steady despite the slight tremor in my body. "I've handled worse... I think."

My chest tightened, but I forced myself to breathe. There's no time to panic now, Adeline. Get a hold of yourself.

They hadn't found Clara. That was a relief. That girl was sneaky—I wouldn't have been surprised if she had slipped into the forest, tending to her plants before these assassins infiltrated the manor.

One of them sneered, stepping closer. "If you don't tell us where the duke's niece is, we'll do this the hard way."

"Not that we mind," another chuckled darkly.

My heart pounded, but I stood my ground.

A spear of dark magic shot toward me. I dodged instinctively, the spell scorching the air beside me. Raising my hand, I conjured a barrier just in time to block a flurry of strikes. The magic dissipated on impact, but fractures spread across my shield.

I retaliated, releasing a concentrated beam of light that cut through the air like a blazing arrow. It struck four of my attackers, sending them staggering as their weapons clattered to the floor.

But there was no time to recover. Suddenly, a searing pain tore through my back.

I gasped, twisting to see one of them stab me, then stumbled back. How did I let that happen?

My senses must be dull right now, to think I didn't notice that.

The pain was blinding, but I clenched my teeth and forced myself to stay upright. 

If I heal myself right now in just one wound, it'll cost my mana, I thought, gritting my teeth. I can't afford to be reckless right now of just using it, I can still stand. 

With a desperate wave of light magic, I pushed them back; the force of it was enough to make them stumble. My knees threatened to buckle as the warm of my own blood trickled down my back.

I need to change tactics. Fast.

Suddenly, a deep thud reverberated through the ground, like heavy walking steps approaching. No—it was more like sprinting. The sound grew louder and more distinct, shaking the floor beneath me. There is a sound of cracking woods and a scent of leaves in a tree.

I turned in time to see a two creature emerge—a towering, living tree. Though not impossibly tall. 

Are those, Treants?

They charged forward with surprising speed. My heart jumped as they barreled past me, their massive limbs crashing down in an attempt to crush the assassins.

Fortunately for them, they managed to evade, darting away just in time. But the sheer force of the treants leaving the soil cracked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of green light. Turning toward it, I saw Clara in the distance, mounted on a large green fox with gleaming amber eyes. I'd only seen Ivy in this form in my dreams, but seeing her like this was still a surprising sight.

Clara's hands glowing with an aura of Sylva (Nature). She was focused, her golden eyes sharp as the light in her hands pulsed in rhythm.

She summoned them? My mind raced as I tried to comprehend.

Then, I noticed a thin trail of blood trickling from her nose as she finally lowered her hands, the green glow fading. Summoning at least two treants must have taken a serious toll on her body.

The assassins froze, staring in disbelief, as they stared at the two massive treants standing before them. Their eyes shifted, landing on Clara, who now appeared to be their primary target.

"Summoning a treant required immense Sylva magic," one of them muttered, his voice heavy with disbelief. "Yet this child summoned two... and all it had cost her was a nosebleed?"

Before they could process the implications, their gazes shifted to Ivy.

"Is that... a guardian?" one assassin asked, his voice trembling with awe.

Another snapped in disbelief, "But guardians had gone extinct four hundred years ago!"

Their astonishment quickly turned to guard as the treants launched another relentless attack. Massive limbs swung with crushing force, and thick roots erupted from the ground, binding their feet if they attempted to escape.

Just as I thought the treants would give Clara and me some time, a shadow emerged from behind Ivy. Before I could react, the dark figure lunged, stabbing at Ivy with a curved dagger, then stepped back as Ivy fought back. Despite the wound, Ivy didn't yield. She stumbled but remained steady, growling lowly in defiance.

Two more assassins appeared, flanking them on either side, closing in from all angles. Clara and Ivy was now surrounded. 

Panic surged through me, but before I could take another step toward them, something caught my foot. A rope of dark magic yanked me back, and I stumbled, my eyes widening as I was held in place.

"Oh, my apologies, Duchess, but you really shouldn't let your guard down." A sinister giggle of a man followed the words, one that sent chills down my spine.

I turned, barely able to lift my head, and saw a new figure emerging from the shadows. His presence was different from the others; I couldn't see his face, but his bronze eyes with vertical slit pupils was glinted beneath his hood. 

The air around him hummed with a malevolent energy that made my stomach churn.

Before I could move, he flung me aside like a ragdoll. My body crashing into the cold, unyielding stone wall of the manor with a sickening thud.

Pain exploded through me, sharp and immediate. My limbs felt heavy, useless, and my vision blurred at the edges. Through the haze, I could faintly hear his mocking laughter. The world spun around me, and I struggled to hold onto my fading consciousness.

"Is that all you've got, Marcus's daughter?" the man taunted, his voice laced with venom as he slowly approached me. But his words barely reached me; everything felt muffled, distant.

My thoughts blurred, and my vision wavered—but didn't fully fade. Darkness crept in at the edges, threatening to pull me under. Yet, a faint, stubborn spark within me clung to consciousness.

I heard Clara's voice, weak but desperate, calling from somewhere far away.

"Aunt Adeline!"

The world tilted, shadows pressing in, but I didn't let go. A faint glow—my light magic—flickered unsteadily, like a dying star that had clung to the night. It wavered, threatening to vanish, but it didn't.

Not yet.

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My body still refused to move, my back pressed against the wall as I gasped for breath. My mind drifted back to the assassin's question from earlier.

So tell me, Duchess—what are you fighting for?

What am I fighting for? I repeated the words in my mind, the question echoing through the haze.

The man who flung me from earlier stepped closer, now only inches away.

"Duchess of Wintermere," he murmured, his voice gentle, yet laced with venom. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Veylor."

His polite tone unsettled me, as if masking something far more sinister.

"If I may ask... why bother?" His head tilted slightly. "Why are you protecting the duke's remaining family? The man you were merely arranged to marry, no less."

He leaned in, a cold smirk tugging at his lips. "I can only assume your mana is nearly gone by now. Given your current state, you can't even move a limb... can you?"

He unsheathed his blade, pressing it lightly to my throat before sliding it to my chin, forcing my head up.

"There's no need for you to lose your life. It would be a waste to kill someone as beautiful as you."

I stayed silent. My vision was still blurry, but with his blade against my skin, avoiding his gaze was pointless.

Was he trying to spare me? Did he truly think I'd believe that?

Clara's voice echoed in my mind, desperate and trembling. I had to protect her—I couldn't let them take her. I had to hold out until the Lords arrived. Also... There were no knights in sight after I casted the circle of solace. Was everyone in this estate truly dead? How unfortunate.

He was right about one thing—my mana nearly reaches its limit. I had to conserve what little remained. It was infuriating, but I had no choice.

My thoughts fractured as he sneered, "You're fighting out of duty, aren't you? But duty is meaningless when you've already lost. This might be your chance to escape this marriage, isn't it? If our High Priest has already killed your husband, what's the point in clinging to this fallen house—or his niece?"

They thought they could sway me with words? How foolish. I could still sense Lucien's presence, fighting alone in the northern forest from afar.

How reckless he is.

It is true my marriage was born from politics. I barely knew the man I was bound to, and at first, I was desperate to escape—terrified of being tied to someone. At least, that's what I believed.

The more I learned about him, the more my perspective began to shift.

Lucien never treated me with cruelty or disdain. Instead, there was something else—a quiet strength, a steady presence beneath his composed exterior.

At first, I thought I was nothing more than a guest in his estate, an afterthought in his life. But he entrusted me with the only family he had left. He respected me in ways I hadn't expected. His words were few, but his actions spoke louder.

He trusted me.

And that was enough.

Enough for me to honor that trust. Enough to fight for what mattered to him.

Clara.

The more I learned about her, the stronger my resolve grew to protect her. Whatever they wanted from her, they would have to go through me.

I wouldn't allow it.

Not when he placed his trust in me.

I caught the blade in my bare hand without thinking. Steel groaned beneath my grip and cracked, blood trickling down my fingers.

With a sharp twist, the sword's tip shattered in my palm.

Veylor's bronze eyes widened in shock as he stumbled back.

Light swirled around me—brilliant and relentless. The warmth surged through my veins, burning away pain and mending every wound as I rose to my feet.

In my grasp, a sword of pure light took shape, its radiant edge humming with power.

What am I fighting for?

For the man who entrusted me with what he valued most.

His words echoed in my mind: "You returned to Wintermere without hesitation or regret. That tells me you don't shy away from your duty as Duchess, no matter how hard it becomes. That's why I trust you."

His trust wasn't easily given. But it was real.

And I am fighting for Clara—the innocent girl he holds dear.

My body shifted instinctively into a defensive stance, the blade of light in my hand glowing brighter, steady and unwavering.

That trust is worth protecting.

That's why I won't give up.