Chapter 6
The nature tribes surged forward with the speed of light, their movements fluid and swift like wind through the trees. Their magic—rooted in the very essence of Tryzo's wilds—manifested as thorny vines that slithered across the clearing, roots that erupted violently from the earth, and gusts of razor-sharp leaves swirling like deadly daggers.
"Get the abomination!" their leader roared, his voice a guttural growl echoing with the ancient power of the forest.
"I am not an abomination!" Cynthia shouted back defiantly.
"You were born to kill that boy!" the leader snarled. "You tangled with fate. How can tree and ice connect? Your power is far too great—for you, or for anyone."
Still dazed by Clare's revelation, Eric instinctively moved to stand beside Cynthia. His ice magic, once a storm of chaos, now flowed with focused control. A shimmering barrier of frost formed around them, deflecting the guardians' attacks with crystalline precision.
"What is this? Why are they attacking you?" Eric demanded, his eyes flashing with protective fury.
"They believe my connection to you threatens the balance of Aethelgard," Cynthia said tightly, bracing herself.
"Aethelgard?" Eric echoed. "You're from Aethelgard's Nature Tribe? Then... you must be the Nature Princess Granny talked about," Clare said, stunned.
Cynthia raised her hands, and the air shimmered with a surge of verdant energy. Instead of lashing out, the vines around her coiled into a living shield, protecting her from the advancing guardians.
Clare stepped forward, her eyes steely with resolve. "We are not here to harm anyone," she declared, her voice carrying the quiet power of royalty. "But we will defend ourselves."
Philip, pale but unwavering, raised his hands and unleashed a torrent of arcane energy. Bolts of pure magic crackled through the air, slamming into the forest's enchanted defenses. Esther, her eyes glowing with ancient earth magic, began weaving intricate spells, her voice a low chant that seemed to bend the very fabric of nature.
The clearing erupted into a whirlwind of elemental fury—ice and earth, nature and arcana. Eric and Cynthia fought as one, their powers complementing each other in a breathtaking dance of destruction and defense. Eric's ice, sharp and precise, shattered the guardians' roots; Cynthia's vines wrapped around their limbs, opening them up to Clare and Philip's focused attacks.
Clare's gaze kept returning to Eric. In the way he moved, the way he stood, the way his power surged—she saw echoes of her lost brother. A pang of grief twisted in her chest, mingled with desperate hope.
"Eric!" she cried, voice strained. "Please, you have to listen to me! I am your sister!"
Eric froze, his concentration faltering. The ice barrier flickered. The guardians seized the moment. Vines lashed out, snaring his limbs.
"Eric!" Cynthia screamed, her own magic wavering in panic.
"No!" Eric roared. A surge of raw, untamed power exploded from within. The vines encasing him froze instantly, shattering into a thousand glittering shards. He unleashed a storm—an uncontrolled blizzard of frost and fury that sent the guardians reeling.
The battle raged into chaos. Finally, weary and wounded, the nature guardians withdrew, retreating into the shadows of the forest, their cries fading like whispers in the wind.
Silence settled over the clearing.
Only the sound of ragged breathing remained.
Clare stepped forward, dirt and sweat streaking her face, her eyes brimming with tears. "Eric," she whispered, voice trembling, "please… you have to believe me. We are siblings."
Eric stared at her. Confusion and disbelief warred across his face. He looked at Cynthia—whose eyes radiated understanding and worry. He glanced at Philip, Esther, and the scorched, frozen battlefield around him.
Everything
felt surreal.
"Who… who am I?" he whispered.