Alistor was already moving, slipping into the blind side of the guard line. His claws gleamed in the torchlight, wicked and curved, tearing through armor and flesh alike, cutting a scream short before it could rise. 

He didn’t fight like a soldier—he fought like a man in longing, desperate to be by her side. Every slash, every throat torn was a frantic step closer to her. His movements were fluid, merciless, precise, yet driven by one singular purpose: Helen. She was his world, his air, the pulse behind every strike.

No man should be left alive. Not until Helen was safe. 

Victor crashed forward beside him, sword lifted high, each strike brutal as a hammer blow. He roared over the clash of steel and the shrieks of dying men:

“Stand firm! We don’t stop until victory is ours!”

Alistor cut with grace, Victor crushed with the weight of a warhammer. Both held only one thought, Helen. Both fought for love, relentless and unyielding. 

And then, through the ruin and smoke, they saw her.

Helen.

And then, through the ruin and smoke, they saw her.

Helen.

She stood at the far end of the shattered hall, framed by firelight and falling ash. Untouched. Unafraid. A crown of iron rested on her brow—not one of captivity, but of choice. At her side stood the enemy king, his hand resting with quiet claim on the hilt of his sword… and on Helen’s shoulder.

Victor staggered forward first, blood and sweat dripping from his brow, sword trembling in his grip.

“Helen… we’ve come for you.” His voice cracked with triumph, with desperation.

Alistor’s claws dripped red at his sides, his chest heaving. His lips parted, trembling as he whispered,

“We killed them all. Nothing stands between us now. Come back to us.”

Helen’s gaze swept over them, steady as stone. “I didn’t ask you to. I am where I choose to be.”

Victor’s voice splintered. “Choose—? With him? After all we’ve done—after what we’ve spilled for you—”

The enemy king’s arm tightened around her, his smile cruel but certain. Helen did not flinch.

“I belong to no one but myself. And I choose him.”

The words carved through the brothers like steel. Alistor staggered, as though his claws themselves had failed him. Victor’s roar of fury shook the chamber, his blade rising high again—this time not for Helen’s sake, but against her will.

And in that moment, the storm broke