The next morning, K.J. rose with the sun, adjusting his new attire, admiring its fit and the power it seemed to grant him in the mirror. The rich tunic, adorned with silver and red phoenix embroidery, mirrored the noble elegance of Prince Oliver's own attire. This was more than just clothing; it marked him as the Prince's chosen courier, loyal and steadfast.
After fastening the leather straps for his quiver and arrows, he lifted his short bow, feeling its finely crafted weight. There was a sense of kinship and power within the wood's polished surface. Securing it on his back, where it latched seamlessly into place on his quiver, K.J. moved toward Prince Oliver's chamber.
As he neared the chamber door, he stopped abruptly, catching the low murmur of voices—two voices. He kept to the shadows, listening intently.
"Oliver!" The voice was unmistakably Ryan's, filled with disappointment and urgency. "What's going on with you? You've been reckless, sleeping around with some random woman just to calm yourself?"
A pause, then Oliver's voice, tense and frustrated, "I can't help it, Ryan. I'm angry—angry with my father and... everything."
Ryan's voice softened, still insistent. "You're losing control. Your magic is tied to your emotions—using Mara like this, without understanding what she is..."
"She's just someone I met," Oliver cut in defensively. "She doesn't want anything from me. I don't have to worry what she thinks."
"She's not who you think she is," Ryan countered, his voice low and warning. "According to my scout who has followed Mara, she is from Cryostria, the southern kingdom that's expanding dangerously close to us."
Oliver's gaze shifted, catching sight of K.J. standing silently in the shadows just outside the doorway, his head lowered, avoiding eye contact. There was something somber and steadfast in K.J.'s stance, the quiet weight of loyalty mixed with an undeniable hint of apprehension. Following Oliver's gaze, Ryan turned and, upon noticing K.J., his eyes softened with a mix of admiration and a tinge of sadness. Ryan looked back at Oliver, his voice low but pointed. "Especially him," Ryan remarked, his tone edged with something akin to warning, "you don't realize he's one of a kind. You'd be lucky if he wanted to stay as your courier."
The weight of Ryan's words struck Oliver visibly, and he straightened, a flicker of humility breaking through his usually guarded expression. Taking a steadying breath, Oliver nodded, his demeanor softening as he gestured with a welcoming hand for K.J. to step forward.
K.J. moved from the shadows and into the dim, cloudy light filtering through the hall's high windows. The details of his new attire—the intricate phoenix embroidery, the rich textures, and the sturdy yet refined leather—caught the gentle glow of nearby candlelight, casting a warm gleam across the polished fabric. In the quiet, his presence spoke of quiet strength and resilience, and for a moment, he looked every bit the royal courier he had become.
A smile tugged at Oliver's lips, a rare expression that softened his usually intense blue eyes. Ryan couldn't hide his approval either and gave K.J. an appreciative nod. "You... you look incredible, K.J.," Ryan said, his voice carrying genuine pride. "Now that's how a Prince's courier should look." Ryan's tone shifted, and he cast a sideways glance at Oliver. "If Oliver act like one," he added, his disappointment lingering. Without another word, he clapped K.J. warmly on the shoulder, his grip firm but kind, leaning in to add in a low tone, "You're a real badass in that, truly." With a final nod, Ryan turned to leave, his departure echoing softly in the stone hall.
K.J. continued forward, walking quietly until he stopped a few steps from an open window where a sharp, bitter wind whipped past, hitting his exposed skin with an unexpected chill. The cold felt different—more severe, more ominous, carrying with it the distant scent of ice and something darker, a foreboding hint of change. The realization struck him as he instinctively pulled his cloak tighter.
Seeing K.J. tense, Oliver stepped closer, adjusting the front of his own shirt and vest with swift, practiced movements, securing each button carefully. He observed K.J. with a gentler expression, one that was both curious and thoughtful. "K.J.?" he called softly.
K.J. turned his head but kept his gaze lowered, instinctively shying from Oliver's piercing gaze, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal. Oliver noticed, reaching out and gently hooking a finger under K.J.'s chin, lifting it with a quiet insistence until their eyes met. The strength in Oliver's gaze softened, and his voice, though quiet, carried an unexpected gravity. "I won't try to excuse what I did, K.J.," he began, his tone laced with sincerity. "That night with Mara... that was on me. But what matters to me right now is this—I need to own up to the fear I put in you, and the lack of respect."
His hand shifted, tracing over the intricate phoenix stitched into K.J.'s vest, a symbol of rebirth and loyalty that held new meaning in that moment. "You're part of this family now," Oliver continued, his voice tinged with pride. "Not as a servant, not as someone who stands on the outskirts, but as a respected person and a true courier to the Stark family."
As he finished speaking, another gust of frigid air blasted through the window, colder and more biting than before. K.J. turned away, brows furrowing as the sensation settled deep within his chest. The unease stirred a feeling he couldn't quite place, a twist of instinct warning him that something was amiss beyond the walls of the castle. He glanced back at Oliver, who noted the tension in K.J.'s expression.
"K.J.?" Oliver asked, his voice now colored with concern.
Meeting Oliver's gaze once more, K.J. gave a firm nod, a silent assurance that he would be vigilant. Oliver's lips curved in a small, relieved smile, his hand resting on K.J.'s shoulder a moment longer. "Come on," he said, gesturing toward the corridor leading to the grand hall. "We're having a big lunch in the hall, and I'd like you to join us."
With a final nod, K.J. fell into step beside Oliver, his posture resolute as they made their way toward the throne room, prepared to face whatever awaited them in the uneasy chill of the castle.
K.J. and Oliver made their way to the Grand Hall, where an extravagant spread awaited: platters of spiced meats, hearty vegetable soups, roasted corn, and an array of seasoned breads. Soldiers and high-ranking officials took their seats around the grand table, including Mankoo, who eagerly grabbed a turkey leg with a chuckle, adding to the lively ambiance.
As K.J. took his place beside Oliver, an unusual, sharp scent wafted from his bowl of vegetable soup. A pungent, earthy aroma lingered in the steam, mixed with an underlying sweetness. Instantly, he recognized the combination: mandrake and dragon's tears—a deadly, exotic poison with a deceptively floral scent.
Oliver was about to take a spoonful of his own soup when K.J. quickly reached over, clasping Oliver's wrist and gently pressing it down onto the table. Conversations halted, and every eye turned toward them, puzzled by the sudden movement.
"What is it, K.J.?" King Stark's voice held concern as he observed the scene.
Without a word, K.J. rose and crossed the hall to a decorative Sugooms Flower perched by the window. He plucked one of its brilliant petals and returned to the table, dropping it into Oliver's bowl. The petal floated briefly before blackening and dissolving, releasing a thin wisp of dark smoke that spread ominously through the broth.
"It's... poisoned?" Oliver's eyes widened with horror, his hand still on the table as he registered the realization.
A soldier seated near the King suddenly collapsed, his face twisted in agony, his hands clawing at his throat. Alarmed gasps filled the room as soldiers drew their swords, and servants hurriedly backed away from the table in fear.
Ryan stood up, sword at the ready, his eyes blazing with fury. "Who did this?" he shouted, scanning the room with a deadly intensity.
K.J. narrowed his gaze, studying each servant lined against the walls. His eyes landed on one man near the far wall, visibly sweating, his left hand trembling as it clutched something glinting faintly—a hidden blade.
With practiced precision, K.J. unlatched his bow, his fingers moving deftly as he notched an arrow in one fluid motion. He drew back, the tension of the bowstring taut and ready, his focus unwavering as he released. The arrow sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, hitting its mark with deadly accuracy, pinning the servant's arm firmly to the stone wall. The servant gasped in shock, his eyes widening as pain registered. Without hesitation, K.J. notched a second arrow, releasing it in a swift follow-up. It pierced through the servant's hand, forcing him to drop the blade with a sharp clang as he let out a pained scream that echoed through the hall.
"You!" Ryan bellowed, advancing on the pinned servant. "Who are you working for?"
Oliver's expression turned dark, his jaw clenched as he glared at the servant with a smoldering rage that seemed to radiate from him. Flames sparked to life in his palm, swirling and growing, fueled by his fury until they formed a pulsing fireball. The intense heat radiated from his hand, casting an ominous, flickering glow across his face, his eyes alight with a barely restrained wrath. Just as he raised his arm, poised to strike, K.J. stepped forward and laid a steadying hand on Oliver's arm. He shook his head slowly, meeting Oliver's blazing gaze with calm assurance.
For a tense moment, Oliver's eyes remained locked on the servant, but gradually, K.J.'s silent appeal registered. Oliver's grip relaxed, his expression softened, and the flames in his palm dimmed, retreating back to a faint glow before vanishing entirely. He exhaled, his shoulders loosening as he reined in the anger that had so nearly overtaken him.
Just then, a bone-chilling wind surged through the hall, piercing the warmth like a blade of ice, carrying with it a sense of impending doom. A thin layer of frost crept up the walls, spidering across stone and tapestry, turning their rich colors into muted, icy shades. The frost continued its relentless crawl, enveloping the grand double doors in a thickening sheet of shimmering ice that glowed faintly in the dim light. The air grew frigid, each breath visible in fleeting clouds of vapor, as silence fell across the room.
All eyes turned to the entrance as the frost grew denser, layering itself into a solid barrier of crystalline cold that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. A sudden crack rang out as the ice buckled under unseen pressure, splitting into jagged fractures before shattering outward in a violent explosion of ice shards. Amidst the swirling fog of cold vapor and falling ice, a towering figure emerged—a monstrous ice golem that filled the doorway, its form looming and angular, as if carved from raw, glacial rock. The creature's frozen, hollow eyes glinted with a cold, malicious intelligence, and its massive limbs moved with slow, heavy determination, each step resonating like the ominous crack of breaking ice.
K.J. reacted instantly, his movements swift and fluid as he drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it in a single, practiced motion. Without hesitation, he raised his bow, eyes narrowing as he focused on the towering ice golem. With a sharp inhale, he loosed the arrow, and it sliced through the frigid air with deadly precision. The arrow struck true, embedding itself right between the golem's hollow, icy eyes.
For a brief, tense moment, the golem stood frozen, a low, guttural groan rumbling from deep within its massive form. Fissures began to spread from the point of impact, spidering outward in jagged lines as the creature's body started to tremble. Then, with a final shudder, the golem collapsed, its body disintegrating into a cascade of frost and shattered shards that scattered across the floor in a cloud of frozen mist. The icy debris sparkled briefly in the dim torchlight before settling into a still, glittering pile, leaving nothing but silence in the hall.
From the swirling fog of frost stepped a slender figure, her form barely visible against the icy mist that clung to her as if she were made of it. Her white hair billowed like silver smoke, framing a face that had once been gentle, but now twisted into a sinister grin. K.J. instantly recognized her—Mara. Her soft features had hardened, her eyes cold with a cruel glint as they swept over the room.
"Mara?!" Oliver's voice broke in a shout, his face contorted with shock and betrayal. He took a half-step back, his disbelief barely containing the fury simmering beneath. "You... what is going on?!"
King Stark's face went ashen as he turned to his son, voice heavy with foreboding. "That's no ordinary sorceress... that's a royal sorceress, a princess of Cryostratis. Princess Nyssa, wielder of the magic of ice—just like her mother, before her."
Nyssa's laughter echoed through the hall, a soft, mocking sound as cold as the frost gathering on the stone walls. "Oh, my dear Prince, you didn't know?" She took a slow, deliberate step forward, her gaze gleaming with malicious delight. "I wanted to see the look on your face when you realized who had seduced you. To be here, standing witness as your kingdom finally crumbles beneath me!"
Her form shifted subtly, her sheer, gauzy clothing clinging to her like a second skin, crafted from what seemed like woven mist and frost. The fabric was so thin it revealed the glacial armor encasing her body: a layer of ice-blue crystal covering her breasts, shoulders, and hips, accentuating her ethereal yet dangerous beauty. Her once-white hair transformed as she spoke, turning to a shimmering, almost metallic ice blue, each strand glinting like icicles in moonlight.
"Hah!" she laughed darkly, eyes narrowing. "I am not going to be some pawn that bows and scrapes! I am Princess Nyssa of Cryostratis, and I have the power to bring winter's wrath down on all of you."
Oliver muttered under his breath, visibly paling. "You're telling me I just slept with a princess...?"
Ryan shot him a look of exasperation, mixed with a hint of bitter amusement, his eyes filled with the unspoken warning he had tried to give. They exchanged a knowing look, a silent, grim reminder that the dangers had been there all along.
Nyssa sneered, catching their exchange. "Oh, how quaint, this little moment of camaraderie," she mocked. "But it changes nothing. I was granted power to conquer and to extend the icy reach of Cryostratis. And now, this warm, foolish kingdom will become my new home." Her voice held the conviction of a conqueror, and her gaze turned sharp as a blade, cutting through the room with chilling confidence.
Her words fell like a death sentence over the hall, and her aura thickened, the very air becoming colder with each breath. She raised her hand, the icy light around her growing brighter, casting her in an almost divine glow as frost crept across the floor, inching closer to the horrified onlookers.
Beside Nyssa, a towering figure emerged from the mist—a presence so formidable that the very air grew colder with each of her steps. Shiva, the Goddess of Ice, loomed like a mountain of frost and shadows, her gaze piercing and detached. She radiated an aura of cold so powerful that the flames in the hall's torches sputtered, shrinking and dimming until the room was cast in eerie, flickering shadows. With a mere glance, Shiva seemed to drain the warmth from the hall itself, her presence a silent but unmistakable warning.
King Stark, watching in growing horror, raised his hand to summon his magic, his expression tense with determination. But nothing happened. The power he had wielded for so long felt suddenly out of reach, as if frozen within him. His face paled, his voice dropping to a shocked murmur. "This... this is impossible!"
Mankoo's face drained of color, his voice barely above a whisper as he clutched at the edge of the table. "Not impossible, your majesty. Only a goddess can nullify magic."
Shiva's glacial eyes turned to K.J., a flicker of curiosity breaking through her detached expression. Her gaze seemed to weigh his very essence, as if appraising his strength, and for a moment, her icy facade showed something akin to interest.
Nyssa raised her hand high, her fingers splayed as icy energy crackled and coalesced above her in a swirl of frost and shimmering mist. With a menacing grace, long, razor-sharp icicles materialized one by one, suspended in the air in a perfect horizontal line, each pointed like a spear toward the King. Their tips glinted with deadly precision, reflecting the dim light in flashes of blue and white. With a quick, almost casual flick of her wrist, Nyssa sent them hurtling forward.
The icicles tore through the air, their speed so great that they let out a high-pitched whine, shattering the silence as if breaking the sound barrier. The lead icicle struck the King in the shoulder with a sickening, heavy thud, driving him backward. His body lifted off the ground from the force, pinning him against the high-backed throne, where he slumped, the icicle still embedded through his shoulder and into the wood. A groan of pain escaped his lips, his face contorted in agony as frost rapidly spread from the wound, seeping across his armor and freezing the edges of his royal cloak.
"Father!" Oliver's voice broke with fear and anger as he sprinted to his side, his own hand instinctively reaching for the wound. The shimmering icicle gleamed in the torchlight, casting a chilling glow over the King's already-pale face.
The King's voice was weak, his words staggered as he struggled against the numbing cold creeping through his body. "Son..." he managed, his breaths shallow. "It's... freezing... spreading..." The icy tendrils radiating from the wound grew, lacing over his armor with a sinister beauty, dulling the metal with frost.
Before Oliver could respond, Nyssa was already preparing another attack, her hand summoning more icicles above her in a spectral row. Oliver looked back, rage flaring in his eyes, but his desperation was clear—he was defenseless against her powers. Beside him, Ryan gripped his sword tighter, his knuckles white, his fury palpable, but the sheer presence of Nyssa and the goddess Shiva kept him at bay, knowing any move could mean death.
"Damn you, you bitch!" Oliver snarled, his voice raw with fury, his gaze hardening as he turned to K.J., who stood unwavering at his side.
K.J. reacted swiftly, notching an arrow and taking aim with deadly precision. The string of his bow snapped with a sharp twang, and the arrow shot through the air, striking Nyssa's hand in a quick, decisive blow. The arrow sank deep, forcing her hand back and cutting through her flesh. Nyssa cried out, her elegant control fracturing as pain twisted her face.
As K.J. began to draw another arrow, Shiva's eyes flashed coldly, and with a sharp, downward motion of her hand, a gust of frigid air erupted from her, slamming into K.J. The force sent him flying, his body hurtling past the throne until he collided with the stone wall with a brutal impact, his back arching in pain. He gripped his bow tightly even as he fell, his body slamming into the marble floor with a sickening thud.
"K.J.!" Oliver voice broke through the chaos, his eyes widening in alarm as he watched his courier struggle to rise.
In the midst of the turmoil, the sound of armor clinking echoed ominously from the shadows. A figure emerged behind Nyssa, the dark gleam of armor and a familiar sneer announcing his arrival. Piercy stepped forward, a cruel smile playing on his lips as he watched the chaos unfold, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction.
K.J., his body still aching from the impact, slowly pushed himself to a kneeling position, drawing in strained breaths. A faint, unfamiliar voice echoed in his mind, soft but insistent: "Power... your power." He glanced around, confusion flickering in his gaze as the voice grew more distinct, almost tangible. "Desire to protect and love. Embrace it." Piercy's figure grew sharper in his vision, coming into terrifying focus as the sneering knight closed the distance.
Nyssa, her fury barely contained, wrenched the arrow from her hand with a hiss, her blood freezing almost instantly. Shiva extended a hand, her fingers glowing with a pale, icy light as she hovered it over Nyssa's wound. Frost crept across Nyssa's torn flesh, sealing it in seconds, her hand once again pristine, her expression twisted with renewed malice.
Piercy sneered, his voice dripping with derision as he addressed the King. "Well, well, my so-called King," he spat, the disdain clear in his voice. "Your time is over. It's about time someone with a real purpose claimed this throne."
With deliberate slowness, Piercy drew a jagged, icy-blue sword from his side, its surface glinting with a sinister shimmer. The blade seemed to radiate cold, faint wisps of frost trailing from its edge. His gaze turned to Oliver, and his smile deepened, filled with cruel intent. "Your highness," he taunted, mockingly bowing his head. "I think I'll start with you, drive this blade straight through that pompous heart of yours."
In one swift motion, he raised the sword and lunged toward Oliver, the blade aimed at his chest with deadly intent.
Before Piercy's strike could connect, K.J. fired, his arrow finding its mark in Piercy's neck with a sickening thud. Piercy's eyes widened in shock, his hand faltering as he reached up to clutch at the arrow embedded in his throat. But K.J. wasn't finished. He loosed a second arrow, this one sinking into Piercy's chest, knocking the traitor back with the force of the blow. Piercy staggered, his breath a wet, rattling gasp as he dropped his sword. It hit the floor, shattering on impact, and he crumpled to his knees before collapsing onto the cold stone.
Nyssa's face twisted in rage as she took in the sight of Piercy's defeated form. Her voice rose in a shriek, wild and furious. "You filthy traitor!" Her hands lifted, fingers curling as she conjured a storm of ice, deadly icicles forming above her in a fierce array. With a savage thrust, she hurled them at Oliver, each shard glinting with lethal intent.
Oliver braced himself, his heart pounding as the deadly icicles hurtled toward him, slicing through the air with terrifying precision. The sharp, cold points of ice bore down, mere moments from impact. But just before they struck, K.J. stepped forward, his entire body surging with newfound strength and resolve.
For the first time, he opened his mouth and spoke, his voice cutting through the hall with unexpected power. "No!" The word came out in a strong, guttural tone, carrying the weight of years of silence and a heavy, deafened accent that reverberated in the vast space. His voice was rough, deep, and unpolished from disuse, yet filled with fierce determination and raw intensity, clear enough to command attention.
As he spoke, he thrust his hand forward with purpose, and in an instant, a shimmering barrier of golden light erupted from his palm, expanding outward in a brilliant dome that shielded Oliver and the rest of the royal family. The icicles struck the barrier, shattering on impact with bursts of glittering frost that cascaded harmlessly to the ground. The sound echoed through the hall like shattered glass, each fragment dissolving before it reached the floor.
K.J. stood at the heart of this protective dome, his face set in fierce concentration. His voice, though rough and unusual, had resonated with power and authority, surprising everyone—including himself. The barrier pulsed in sync with his heartbeat, its light illuminating his face as he held his stance, shielding those behind him. The golden glow cast flickering shadows on Nyssa and Shiva's astonished faces, revealing their shock at the strength of his defiance.
In that instant, a dome of shimmering, golden light erupted from K.J.'s outstretched hand, expanding rapidly to form an bigger impenetrable barrier around him and the royal family. The barrier was a radiant, translucent shield, its surface rippling like molten glass, infused with hues of gold and amber. Intricate symbols and swirling runes danced across the barrier's surface, pulsing in a rhythmic, steady glow as if imbued with ancient power. The protective dome curved above them like a celestial canopy, casting a warm, golden light that turned the cold, stone hall into a space of ethereal safety.
Nyssa cast another deadly icicles and struck the barrier with a loud, crystalline crack, shattering on impact into a shower of glittering frost. The shards burst apart upon hitting the barrier, scattering in cascades of icy dust that melted before reaching the ground. Each strike sent ripples across the surface, but the barrier held firm, undeterred, its light growing even brighter with every impact. The sound of each shattered icicle was met with a hum from the barrier, as if absorbing the force and converting it into energy, strengthening the dome further.
K.J's stance grounded and unwavering, his face illuminated by the golden glow. His eyes shone with fierce determination as he channeled his power, his focus locked on maintaining the barrier. The radiant dome cast flickering shadows across Nyssa and Shiva's astonished faces, highlighting their growing dread. To those watching, it was as if K.J. had summoned the light of the sun itself, a power so pure and unyielding that even the bitter cold of Nyssa's magic could not penetrate it.
The golden glow of the barrier illuminated the entire hall, suffusing it with a warm, protective light that contrasted starkly with the dark, icy presence of Nyssa and Shiva. The magical dome pulsed in tune with K.J.'s heartbeat, its surface shimmering with a living energy that radiated both strength and serenity, standing as an unbreakable wall.
Mankoo's eyes widened, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving him gaping in utter astonishment. The King, captivated by the radiant barrier, took in the breathtaking sight around them—a dome of pure, shimmering energy enveloping him and his family, casting a warm, golden light that seemed to defy the cold, creeping shadows of the enemy. He stared, scarcely able to believe what he was witnessing, the barrier's warmth a comforting balm against the chilling force that had invaded his throne room.
Beside him, Oliver and Ryan stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of shock and awe. They could only watch as K.J., the silent courier, had somehow summoned a power that shielded them from one of the most feared sorceresses and an ancient goddess.
"What is this?!" Nyssa's voice trembled as she stumbled back, her poised demeanor shattered, a flicker of fear betraying her as she stared at the impenetrable dome. "What... what is this power?" she spat, frustration marring her icy features.
To her side, Shiva took a step backward, genuine terror flashing across her normally impassive face. A goddess, reduced to fear. The sight stunned everyone, Nyssa included. Nyssa turned toward Shiva, her confusion and disbelief growing. "What are you doing!? You're a goddess!" she snapped, desperation tainting her voice. "We need to finish them!"
But Shiva's face remained grave, her voice low and soft, carrying the weight of ancient knowledge. "That power..." she murmured, awe mingling with a palpable fear. "It actually exists. No magic, no god's power, can match that."
The King, Oliver, Ryan, and the others heard Shiva's words, her quiet resignation seeping through them, heightening the awe and wonder in their hearts. They instinctively drew closer, aligning themselves behind K.J., who now stood as their shield.
K.J. raised his right hand higher, pouring his strength into the barrier, expanding it outward as it pulsed with waves of energy, growing more solid with each passing second. Nyssa, undeterred, raised her hand to conjure her ice magic, summoning a golem that materialized from thin air, chunks of ice snapping together to form a hulking figure. With a flick of her wrist, she commanded it to divide into two towering forms, their heavy limbs cracking and clinking as they took menacing steps forward.
One of the golems lurched toward the barrier, but as it crossed the threshold, its body began to dissolve, transforming into water and collapsing in a puddle at K.J.'s feet. Undeterred, Nyssa sent the second golem rushing forward, its massive body moving with frightening speed. K.J., his left hand glowing white-gold, summoned a blazing shard, pure light emanating from it like a lance. With precision, he thrust his hand forward, sending the shard directly into the golem's chest. The shard punctured the creature with a thunderous impact, a wave of intense heat radiating outward as the golem's icy form splintered into pieces, each fragment disintegrating mid-air.
The explosion threw Nyssa back, her body flying through the crumbling doorway and into the shattered remnants of the grand hall. Shiva, though unmoved physically, felt the force wash over her, the shockwave lifting her icy hair in a wild, ethereal sweep.
Oliver, who had risen to stand at K.J.'s side, noticed something unusual—just outside K.J.'s iris was a faint, radiant halo, a soft glow surrounding his eyes as if he were channeling some ancient, otherworldly energy. Awestruck, Oliver remained silent, taking in the fierce, serene power radiating from his companion. The very air around K.J. seemed to vibrate with a purity that rivaled the sun, leaving Oliver with the sense that he was in the presence of something sacred.
Meanwhile, Shiva's gaze remained locked on Nyssa, a hint of regret and deep fear shadowing her usually stoic face. "Princess," she murmured, her tone carrying the weight of millennia, "I fear we must retreat. If we continue, we both risk perishing."
Nyssa's expression twisted with rage and frustration as she clambered to her feet, ice shards falling from her wounded pride as much as her body. She looked from K.J. to Shiva, and then to the defeated golems, understanding dawning too late. Her lips curled into a snarl, her icy eyes blazing. "This isn't over," she spat, hatred dripping from every word. She cast one final, burning look at K.J., as if trying to sear his image into her mind, before stepping back beside Shiva.
Together, Nyssa and Shiva retreated, their forms dissolving into mist as they left the ruined hall, the bitter cold of their presence dissipating into the warm glow of K.J.'s lingering magic.
As the radiant barrier flickered, its light dimming in waves, the golden dome around K.J. began to fade, leaving only a faint glimmer in the air before it vanished entirely. The warmth that had filled the hall dissipated, and K.J.'s body visibly sagged, the strain of channeling such intense power leaving him drained. His shoulders drooped as if a great weight had been suddenly placed upon them, and his breathing grew shallow, each inhale labored. His vision blurred, and his legs wavered beneath him, his knees finally giving way as exhaustion washed over him like a crashing wave.
Just as K.J. began to fall, Oliver was at his side in a heartbeat, his movements swift and instinctive. He reached out, wrapping one strong arm around K.J.'s shoulders, his other hand steadying him by the waist. The force of K.J.'s weight pulled him slightly forward, but Oliver held him firmly, his grip secure and unwavering. His fingers, gentle yet steady, pressed against K.J.'s back, offering him support. Oliver's touch was unexpectedly tender, his arms radiating warmth as he prevented K.J. from collapsing fully.
Oliver eased K.J. downward, helping him to sit on the cold stone floor as he kept a hand on his shoulder, anchoring him in the moment. Leaning over him, Oliver's face softened, his usual guarded expression melting away into one of deep gratitude and respect. His blue eyes were filled with awe as he looked at K.J., and he spoke with a quiet intensity that conveyed his feelings more powerfully than any grand gesture. "You saved us all," he whispered, his voice barely audible yet heavy with emotion, "and you didn't even have to say a word."
Oliver's hand lingered a moment longer on K.J.'s shoulder, a reassuring presence that grounded them both after the chaotic battle. For a brief moment, amidst the shadows of the great hall, the two were surrounded by a silence that felt like peace, an unspoken bond forged between them in the aftermath of their shared ordeal.
