"Self-Defense"

There was no time to breathe. No time to think. No time for even her heart to beat.

She snapped her fingers out of pure reflex. With panic instead of oxygen in her lungs, time stopped for only a split second. The fury of the sabot slug fired by the 12-gauge shotgun resumed almost immediately. But it was just enough time for the queen to conjure a blast of ice from her palm. The slug froze mid-flight, but when the gale of white disappeared, so too did the shooter.

Glacies’s heart stopped. The magic that flowed in her blood was no longer frost, but fear. The appearance of this second Lynn failed to make any sense whatsoever. Her sister was already entombed in a block of ice right next to her. How could another one appear, brandishing a gun for no apparent reason? It was as if she saw a ghost, one hellbent on tarnishing their family name by wielding a primitive tool of all things.

She pulled out her hairpin in one swift motion as her eyes scanned the floor, searching for where her sister could be hiding. But this Lynn gave her no room to even process reality. A vague shadow on the glass-shattered ground hoisted her vision upward. Never had she seen her sister this high up in the air, so far away from the source of her strength. The Shield of House Veranos had always been a grounded combatant, not this… monkey.

It was like fighting someone else together, someone with no care for their life. An Immortal who fought like a mortal. The sheer speed at which her foe abandoned the safety of cover by acrobatically leaping from the entrance boggled her mind. And in the brief moment their eyes met, Glacies saw something else together.

Mortis…

Piercing directly through her, upside down in midair, the eyes behind her sister had the exact same look as the Lord of Death. Nothingness. Indifference. The unfeeling gaze of a reaper who treated all lives, including their own, as garbage. Trash to be taken out. The Lynn she knew glared at her with hate. It was predictable. But as those empty eyes looked down the barrel of the rifled shotgun, the queen realized she was fighting a fake. Body and soul of her sister, but with the mind of Mortis.

And as the deafening din of a gunshot sliced through the cold air, she steeled herself. It mattered not who she was fighting; she only needed to win. Anything less and she knew she'd die.

Her hands swiftly spun her Regalia, reacting to the overhead shot at the perfect time to guard herself. But the projectile shot right past the spear. The queen could not believe it. Not because she was slow.

But because it wasn’t even aiming for her in the first place.

It struck the ice prison containing the real Lynn. Cracks spread out all over the surface, but it was the confidence inside Glacies that shattered. Her innate sense of self-preservation as an Immortal triggered her to protect herself. It clouded her from her opponent’s true aim.

She could no longer hesitate. She had to stop time, even if it was for a couple of seconds. Anything. Something. She was desperate for a way out more than she ever had in her entire life.

Because at that moment, she felt the touch of death once more, the first time in over a century.

A quick, sharp breath pierced her mouth. Barely any oxygen, but she didn’t care. It was all or nothing. Her thumb and her finger touched. Her very life and death depended on this snap. But there was none.

She couldn’t move her hand. A look of terror washed over her face as it turned ghost-white. From inside the cracked block of ice, Lynn punched through, holding the queen’s forearm hard like a vice. Dirt and stone sullied her clothes as petrification took place. And as the block of ice fell apart, a tomb of stone emerged right next to it, imprisoning the Lordess of Frost.

The queen has been captured. Checkmate.

-----

Subject: Terilynn Veranos | Classif.: Barzakh

Lynn plunged her sword straight into the human-sized tomb beside her, twisting it. Zero hesitation in this act of sororicide.

The steel of her Regalia phased through solid rock effortlessly, as if they were one and the same. Resistance only arrived in the form of flesh, bone, and organs. The soft squelching of tissue reverberating within the infinitely dense bars of this earthen jail painted a smile on Lynn’s face. But it was only when she felt the warmth of blood on her soulbound weapon that she truly rejoiced. Both her smile and her sword twisted. The fate of two sisters sealed.

She kept her hand on the queen’s sarcophagus, monitoring the condition of the body within while also reinforcing the rock formation with each wave of magic she poured. Insurance in case Glacies decided to try and freeze-thaw her way out. Considering the state of her health, it was more likely she’d focused on staying warm instead of accelerating her death.

With every weakening heartbeat within the makeshift monument, Lynn gradually relaxed. She only started to realize the moisture from her sweat and the erraticness of her breathing. After so long, she has finally put this traitor in her place. The kingdom’s true villain. Her entire reason for becoming who she was; no thanks to this witch. And to think she achieved it within a mortal’s lifespan…

What should she do next?

Maybe it was time to stop being the Council’s lapdog. Lead House Veranos in Glacies’s place. Such a shame for the queen to pass in the unpredictable wastes of The Depths. Someone had to continue her work as regent, given the king’s “absence,” after all.

But then the thought of settling down made her shudder. She was more keen on dealing with the national politics than marrying her betrothed. Ugh. Just when she thought she escaped the thumb of one oppressor, she remembered the second one waiting in line.

As her enthusiasm waned, so too did the life of the woman encased in stone. Lynn made sure to keep a close eye on her condition. She wanted to have the last laugh, but only when she was absolutely certain death would take the witch.

“Are you okay?” Mia asked, still in Lynn’s form.

Okay? “Just” okay? She had never felt better in her whole life!

Seeing Mia in her skin was unsettling, but she didn’t care anymore. She could impersonate her all she wanted after this. If not for this little shapeshifter, she wouldn’t have gotten her revenge. Hell, she might actually honor Mortis’s wishes and take care of her daughter after this brilliant display.

But then, an even better idea lit up in her head.

Mia could take her place and marry that bastard. Perfect! He wanted a normal life for her; this was about as normal a life as any noblewoman could wish for. Mia should consider herself lucky. Becoming nobility was something commoners on The Surface could only dream of. A truly fitting reward for her assistance in killing this traitor queen.

No, wait…

Why was she so shallow-minded? Why stop at being her when Mia could be the king himself? With her guidance, this copycat would be the perfect ruler. One who could put the entire Council in its place and actually restore the nation to its former glory. A far-fetched dream, indeed, but not impossible.

Mia was the last missing piece of the kingdom’s puzzle. And she finally found it.

Trying to hide her joy, Lynn asked, “You do know who is inside here, right? Or were you hoping to ‘shoot first, ask questions later?’”

“That’s the queen.”

“And yet, you turn your weapon on one of the most powerful Immortals in the kingdom. Why, may I ask?”

“You were in trouble.”

Oh, bless the heart of this sweet, sweet child.

“Thank you. I shall not forget this favor.” Sensing it was about time, Lynn released her hand. The top portion of the coffin crumbled, revealing the face of the mortally wounded queen inside. “In fact, why don’t I let you do the honors? You’ve earned the right.”

Blood streaming out of her mouth, Glacies instinctively gasped for air, only to realize it was a mistake. With a sword inside her lungs and no space for her chest to expand, it only aggravated her injuries. Seeing her cling to life in such a futile manner filled Lynn’s heart with warmth. She had always imagined this moment. Picturing it in the darkness each time her eyes blinked. But to see it actually happen in the flesh was a rapturous sensation unlike any other.

She could tell that even in Glacies’s blurred vision, the sight of Mia’s shotgun directly in her face was registered. What better insult than for her to die not by the sword, but a loathsome, pathetic weapon? The queen of a magnificent kingdom—decapitated by a tiny ounce of steel. Truly a sight to behold.

“Any last words?” Lynn asked. “I’ll be sure to repeat them as I shed a single tear for all the subjects attending your funeral.”

“Who… is… she?”

Lynn answered on Mia’s behalf. “Your sister. Oh, and if you happen to see His Majesty, tell him I sent you.” Turning to the imposter, she gave the order. “Pull the trigger.”

And thus, the trigger was pulled. Only, it wasn’t the shotgun. Mia’s weapon flew out of her grasp.

Mortis stood by the bunker doors, smoke trailing from his revolver as his wrist regenerated from the recoil snap.

“Dad!” Mia blurted, reverting to her real self in shock.

“I step away for one minute. ONE MINUTE,” he flared. “And an international incident is taking place on my doorstep.”

Lynn yelled, “This doesn’t concern you!”

Flabbergasted, he pointed his gun at her. “That’s my daughter you’re dragging into your murder plot!”

“Dad, I can explain! This is self-defense!”

Buried in stone. Sword impaled. Head sticking out for execution. For a moment, Tim looked as if he was going to put the revolver to his head and call it “gun safety.”

“I thought we’re all on the same side!” He reasoned. “You’re working for the Council, so what the hell is going on?!”

But Lynn wasn’t going to let this interloper ruin this moment. This day she had been waiting for her entire life. An outsider like him would never understand what she has been through. They never do.

In one swift turn, she threw a stone-hardened hook at the bloodied head of the queen. A bullet wouldn’t stop this. And despite all the power he wielded, there was nothing he could do to steal this moment from her.

But he didn’t need to.

“Pris,” he uttered.

Her knuckles were practically touching Glacies’s face, only for it to come to a complete stop.

-----

Subject: Mortimer | Classif.: Sirath

Self-Defense. He was no lawyer, and he was grateful he never tried becoming one in his job-hopping days. If these were the clients he had, he might have destroyed reality “accidentally” a long time ago.

Walking down the ramp, a new question surfaced each time his legs passed over a step. Why was Her Majesty here? How did these two defeat a time stopper? What beef did the two sisters have? So many questions, so little sense.

Having just regenerated from a single hand, listening to Pris’s explanation on the way here did little to solve the puzzle. The Qanthorah was just an observer. Only with permission could it activate anti-human countermeasures. Still, he wished the sentient building would step in earlier instead of letting the entire front yard be decimated. Just because Pris could repair it in an instant didn’t mean it should be a battlefield.

Mia and Lynn could no longer move, but neither were they frozen. They were relaxed to the point of flaccidity. As if the skeleton that held each of them together slipped out of their flesh. And as their bags of meat sagged and swayed, a new sensation rose from within their stomach. Laughter emerged from the two of them. Forced. Unnatural. It started slow at first, but grew more and more rabid with each breath. Maybe he shouldn’t complain this much, since Pris was kind enough to choose this countermeasure among all the others.

They laughed and laughed. They didn’t know what or why, only that it was the only thing they could do. Their bodies no longer had control as they started to cry amid their episode. Blood streamed out of their eye sockets. Losing their balance, their skin peeled off from underneath their clothes.

And yet, they laughed through all that.

It pained him to see Mia going through this, but she had to learn somehow that not everyone conveniently fit into two boxes called “good” or “bad.” Her Majesty definitely fell somewhere in between. And if his daughter didn’t learn to pick her enemies now, this punishment would be the least of her worries.

As he approached the coffin, carefully traversing the shattered pieces of earth, he tried not to dwell too hard on the convulsing laughter. The closer he got to them, the less human they sounded.

Before his very eyes, they were turning into fish, just like the many humans who once trespassed on the facility grounds eons ago.