Chapter 25

The world held its breath, its very existence tinged with an unshakable sense of impending doom. Shadows danced ominously, concealing the lurking danger that awaited. Zarku's heart skipped a beat, a chilling silence settling over him as the spell of space and time froze his very being. Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, unleashing a primal rumble that sent shivers down their spines. Alfred's voice pierced the air, laced with urgency, "Fall back swiftly! The earthquake beckons, threatening to consume us whole!"

With Zarku positioned perilously at the epicenter, the knights sprang into action, desperation propelling them to retreat at breakneck speed. Each step they took echoed with apprehension, their minds racing to outpace the encroaching catastrophe. The earth quivered with malice, its sinister intentions palpable, as if hungry for their demise. The air grew heavy, charged with a suffocating aura of imminent destruction.

And then the world convulsed violently, they stood amidst the chaos, battling against the relentless tremors. The very ground beneath them cracked and buckled, threatening to devour everything in its path. Aella's eyes widened in horror as she witnessed Zarku's body being torn asunder, tendrils erupting and desperately attempting to mend the severed pieces. Yet, the spells aimed at Zarku ripped apart the tendrils as well. With each passing moment, the relentless assault shattered every last fragment of Zarku's being, leaving the tendrils motionless, their threat extinguished.

Once the relentless earthquake finally subsided, the three of them moved forward with cautious steps toward the epicenter. What awaited them was a scene of utter devastation—a haunting reminder of Zarku's demise. Amidst the wreckage, pools of blood, as dark as the deepest abyss, lay splattered about. It seemed as though not a trace of the goblin king remained.

A heavy silence hung in the air as the trio, their hearts heavy with both sorrow and relief, let out a collective sigh. The battle had taken its toll, claiming the valiant Galahad and leaving General Lance unaccounted for. The once loyal soldiers who fought by their side now existed as fallen comrades or had fled in the face of unspeakable horror.

Alfred spoke first breaking the silence, his tone laced with urgency. "We cannot linger here any longer. The goblin king has been obliterated, and this place holds nothing for us now. We must meet up with Eadgar, to find out if he has uncovered any hint of the general's whereabouts." Edward's gaze hardened, his voice filled with determination. "My brother vowed to scour the treacherous path leading to the goblin's nest before he took off, searching for any lingering traces of the General. Once victory is assured, he insists we make haste back to the castle."

Aella's gaze darted between the two men, uncertainty etching deep lines on her face. "What's our next move?" she whispered, her voice laden with trepidation. "I have faith in Eadgar's ability to track the general, but for us to be returning to the castle empty-handed, without any intel... It won't bode well with the King."

Aella's heart raced as she spotted a figure emerging from the shadows. Her eyes squinted, and to her astonishment, she recognized the approaching figure—it was none other than Elizabeth Ashcroft, the notorious witch. But something was different about her. Elizabeth's once-raven black hair now gleamed like freshly fallen snow, a stark contrast against her pale complexion. The transformation made her appearance all the more captivating, though there was an eerie aura surrounding her.

Aella nudged Alfred, her voice barely a whisper, "Hey, isn't that Elizabeth? It looks like her, but there's something... off about her." Alfred and Edgar turned their gaze in the direction Aella pointed and caught sight of the witch, slowly making her way toward them. An unsettling aura surrounded her, casting shadows on their minds. Alfred's hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword, his body trembling with a primal sense of danger. Edgar, taken aback by his commander's reaction, knew his commander has feeling for the witch and this reaction by him is strange.

Edward couldn't help but trust Alfred's keen intuition. "Stay alert," Alfred murmured, his words laced with an eerie calmness. "My sword heart senses a looming threat." The weight of his words hung in the air, as the trio prepared themselves.

"Sir Alfred, please, you look at me like I am a goblin" Elizabeth move closer to the knights and pleaded, her smile concealing a hidden agenda as she disregarded the knight's hand hovering near his sword. "I am here to gather crucial information about my spells. Tell me, how did they fare?"

Before Alfred could utter a word, Edward interjected, his voice filled with enthusiasm and an undercurrent of unease. "It was a spectacle, Lady Elizabeth. Your spells were executed flawlessly, leaving no room for the goblin king to escape. Yet, forgive my impertinence, but what has befallen your once lustrous hair?"

"I see, I didn't have the confidence that the spacetime spell would work. That was still an experimental spell." The witch looked at Edward, ignore his question about her hair, and then walk past him, she then kneel and took out a glass bottle, and place some of the dead goblin's blood into the glass bottle. "Can't let any material goes to waste."

Alfred with his hand still on the hilt of his sword as he spoke, his voice laced with a mixture of triumph and concern. "Lady Elizabeth, the goblin king has been slain, but our victory is marred by the loss of Galahad and the mysterious disappearance of the General. He vanished without a trace at the very onset of the battle, leaving us bewildered and anxious. Eadgar is scouring the battlefield, desperately searching for any clue that may shed light on the fate of our general."

"Hmmm, Sir Alfred," Elizabeth spoke, her voice dripping with a tantalizing tease, "what are your guesses? Has the esteemed General fled?" A wicked chuckle escaped her lips, shrouding the room in an eerie atmosphere. Alfred's brows furrowed, mirroring the disapproval etched on the faces of those gathered, as Elizabeth's insult lashed at the valor of the revered General.

"No, I don't believe the General simply ran away. Something far more sinister transpired at the outset of the battle when Zarku descended upon us. The sheer devastation caused by that merciless assault annihilated nearly all of our soldiers in an instant. Galahad, tragically positioned near the epicenter, met an untimely demise without a chance to react. It was at that precise moment, shrouded in chaos and destruction, that the General vanished into thin air, leaving us bewildered and vulnerable as we sought refuge."

"I was merely teasing you, Sir Alfred. Our brave General would never have fled with his tail tucked between his legs," Elizabeth said, her voice laced with a hint of suspense. "But I have a thought, Sir Alfred. Would you care to hear my musings?"

Alfred's grip tightened, his knuckles turning white. "My lady do enlighten us. What possible reasons could have led General Lance to vanish?"

Elizabeth paused, letting the tension build up "Well, I believe there are two plausible scenarios," she whispered, my words carrying a chilling undertone. "First, it's possible he met the same fate as Galahad during the assault, his body torn to shreds by the explosive chaos. Or, perhaps, he encountered something far more sinister and chose to disappear into the shadows. My opinion would be the second option is highly likely."

The witch pressed a finger to her temple, her actions hinting at deep contemplation. Aella and Edward grew increasingly impatient, the teasing about their general and now with the fake acting. Their unease mounted as they considered the witch's notorious reputation. They couldn't ignore the unsettling knowledge that the King harbored a deep infatuation for her.

"Ah, my dear knights of the twelve... or should I say eleven now, since Galahad's demise... Allow me to put an end to this charade. I happened to encounter Eadgar on my way here, and let me assure you, he has deviated from his path. But do you wish to know where he is? Kekekeke..."

Alfred's patience snapped, his grip tightening around his sword. His voice trembled with a mix of fear and defiance, "Who are you? The witch Elizabeth would never utter such words!"

Elizabeth took a step back, her arms tightly crossed beneath her breasts, bracing herself. "Kekekke," she chuckled coldly. "Let me introduce myself. I am Lalitha, and the Elizabeth Ashcroft that once existed is no more."

In an instant, a chilling purple shadow emerged from the depths of Aella's own shadow. It swiftly lunged forward, slicing through her arteries with lethal precision. Blood erupted from her neck in a horrifying fountain, staining the air crimson. Aella, paralyzed by shock and agony, instinctively clutched her wounded neck, desperately trying to stem the torrent of life pouring forth.

Edward's voice erupted in a scream, a mixture of fury and terror, as he hurled his shield toward the enigmatic assassin. The shield sailed through the air, propelled by his raw desperation, seeking to strike down the shadowy figure and avenge their fallen comrade. The air crackled with tension as the shield hurtled forward, momentarily freezing time in the face of impending danger.

Alfred swung his already-drawn sword at Elizabeth, he knew he would be too late if he turn around to go after the assassin.