Espada leaped out of the hole, her body aching from the grueling battle she had endured. The moment she reached solid ground, she sprinted forward, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She had no time to waste. She had to get to Kieran.
But as she turned the corner and laid eyes on the battlefield, a wave of horror crashed over her. There, in the middle of the icy ruins, was Kieran—his body limp, impaled by jagged ice spikes protruding from his chest. His lifeless eyes were frozen open, staring at nothing.
"KIERAN!" Espada's scream pierced through the cold air, raw with grief and rage. She fell to her knees, staring at her fallen comrade, unable to accept what she was seeing.
A slow, condescending clap echoed through the ruined city square. Lucien, sitting lazily upon his throne of ice, smirked. "Took you long enough," he drawled. "Honestly, I was expecting more from a Grimknight. Maybe the legends about your order were... exaggerated?"
