The Third Strike
"Very well, young knight."
The massive blade rose above Queen Amara's shoulder.
"Brace yourself."
The air inside the throne room seemed to tighten.
Even the faint dust floating in the sunlight paused, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
"For this… is the last strike."
This time the Queen did something different.
Until now she had held the enormous sword with a single hand, swinging the weapon with terrifying ease. But now—
She placed both hands on the handle.
The simple act sent a ripple of unease through everyone watching.
Even the hidden guards in the shadows stiffened.
Two hands.
That meant she was truly serious.
High above her head went the sword, lifted by Amara with quiet slowness. Light from the tall windows struck the blade just right - suddenly it shone, sharp and bright, like a star mid-fall, pausing before the drop.
Across from her, Videl stood silently.
Her hands were already numb.
