Chapter 86| Alone Against the Storm
The Prince moved with a speed that defied every calculation Allen’s honed instincts had ever managed to process, closing the distance between them in a single, blurring motion that left Guardian’s Instinct screaming a warning barely fast enough to save him from a strike that would have ended the fight before it properly began.
Allen twisted aside at the absolute last possible moment, the creature’s scything foreleg carving a deep gouge into the scorched earth where he’d stood a heartbeat earlier, and answered with a desperate, immediate counter, Ashfall Talons blazing as he drove a dragonfire-infused strike directly into the Prince’s exposed flank.
The wound, devastating by any previous standard, began closing almost instantly, translucent, rapid regeneration knitting the damage shut with a speed that made even the second Guardian’s considerable healing capability seem sluggish by comparison.
"That’s not possible," Allen breathed, retreating a step as the Prince’s mandibles clicked with unmistakable, mocking satisfaction.
The creature pressed its advantage immediately, and Allen found himself forced into pure, desperate defense, every strike he managed to land healing before he could press the momentary advantage, every attack the Prince unleashed carrying speed and precision that made his previous battles — even the Queen herself — feel almost leisurely by comparison.
"Guardian’s Instinct" flared repeatedly, buying razor-thin margins that kept him alive rather than genuinely ahead, and Allen felt exhaustion and mounting desperation compound with every passing exchange, the Prince’s calculating, multifaceted eyes tracking his every attempted counter with unnerving, patient intelligence.
’It’s not just fast,’ Allen thought grimly, barely deflecting a strike that would have taken his arm off entirely. ’It’s studying me. The same way its mother studied all of us.’
He risked a glance toward his fallen wives, still crumpled amid the devastated terrain, and felt fresh, desperate urgency compound his mounting exhaustion. Myria stirred faintly, consciousness returning slowly, but Irene, Everlyn, and Vivian remained ominously still.
"Stay down," he called out toward Myria’s stirring form, voice tight with strain as he barely evaded another devastating strike. "Whatever you do, stay down until you’re actually ready!"
The Prince seemed to recognize the divided nature of his attention, and pressed its advantage with sudden, calculated ferocity, forcing Allen backward, away from his fallen wives’ position, clearly, deliberately separating him from any possibility of assistance.
’It’s isolating me,’ Allen realized, horror mounting alongside his exhaustion. ’The same tactic we used against the Queen. It learned that from watching us.’
He drew on every reserve of strength and skill his year of relentless growth had earned him, Shadow Transposition carrying him repeatedly across the battlefield in a desperate, exhausting effort to avoid the Prince’s overwhelming speed advantage, Ashfall Talons finding fewer and fewer genuine openings as the creature’s rapid regeneration and calculated defense grew increasingly difficult to overcome.
A strike finally connected, glancing but severe, sending Allen crashing hard against a scorched outcropping, breath driven from his lungs in an agonized gasp. He struggled upright, vision swimming, and found the Prince advancing with slow, deliberate menace, clearly savoring the moment rather than rushing to finish him outright.
"Big mistake," Allen managed, forcing himself upright despite screaming protest from battered ribs. "Giving me time to think."
The Prince’s mandibles clicked with what might have been amused dismissal, and it lunged forward once more, considerably faster than Allen’s battered body could fully evade.
He felt the strike connect, felt agony explode through his side, and through the haze of overwhelming pain, heard, distantly, a voice that cut through everything with fierce, unmistakable fury.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
Myria’s ice erupted with sudden, devastating force, catching the Prince mid-strike and buying Allen the precious half-second he desperately needed to scramble clear, and as he collapsed against the scorched earth, blood soaking through his torn equipment, he watched Myria rise on legs that had, mere hours earlier, been restored through their hardest-won victory yet, ice gathering with fierce, protective intensity around her trembling but determined form.
"You don’t touch my husband," she snarled, voice carrying every ounce of six years’ reclaimed strength. "Not while I’m still standing."
Allen felt something fierce and grateful surge through his pain-wracked exhaustion, watching Myria’s restored legs carry her into position beside him, and understood, with sudden, desperate clarity, that whatever this fight ultimately demanded of them, they would face it exactly as they’d faced everything else.
Together, whatever the cost.
Myria’s ice continued its assault, buying precious seconds as Allen struggled to his feet, agony lancing through his wounded side with every movement. The Prince turned its attention toward this fresh, unexpected resistance, multifaceted eyes narrowing with something that looked disturbingly like genuine reassessment.
"Vivian, Everlyn, Irene," Myria called out, not taking her focus from the Prince for even a moment, "however conscious you are right now, I need you fighting. This isn’t a fight either of us wins alone."
A weak but unmistakable groan answered from Vivian’s crumpled position, and Allen watched with desperate hope as she began, slowly, painfully, to stir.
"Give her a minute," he managed, forcing himself upright despite his battered ribs’ furious protest. "We just need to buy a minute."
The Prince lunged again, and this time Myria met the strike with a wall of solid ice, buying just enough time for Allen to reposition, Shadow Transposition carrying him to a flanking angle even as pain screamed through every fiber of his exhausted body.
"I’m not losing any of you," he said, voice rough with pain and unshakeable determination. "Not today. Not ever."
The Prince’s mandibles clicked again, that same unnerving, almost curious sound, as though genuinely reassessing the calculation it had made moments earlier — and Allen understood, watching that flicker of hesitation, that whatever advantage the creature’s overwhelming speed and regeneration provided, it had never actually faced anything quite like the desperate, unbreakable bond it was now confronting.
"Let’s show it exactly what that bond is worth," Allen said, and beside him, Myria’s answering nod carried the same fierce, unshakeable resolve that had carried them through every impossible trial since a cold car ride into Hegeville had first bound five broken people together.