20. Tiamat

Chapter 20

Tiamat

The grandeur of Oberon's castle surrounds us as we stand before the ornate white double doors, the intricate carvings a testament to the skill and craftsmanship of the fae. The image etched into the doors depicts five elves with their hands raised over a pool of water, their faces serene and enigmatic.

As I study the carving, my grandfather steps forward, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he examines the scene before us. "They have a viewing pool," he says, his voice low and contemplative.

I furrow my brows in confusion, unfamiliar with the concept. "What's a viewing pool?" I ask, curiosity piqued by his words.

My grandfather turns to me, a knowing look in his eyes. "It's a tool used by the fae to observe both the past and the future," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. "They can see events unfold in real time, allowing them to expect and manipulate the course of history."

As his words sink in, I glance back at the carving, my mind racing with possibilities. If Oberon and his followers have access to such a powerful tool, then they could use it to gain an unfair advantage over us. We must proceed with caution, lest we fall prey to their machinations.

"It looks like the Marelup Castle in the pool," I observe, pointing to a familiar landmark within the image. The sight sends a chill down my spine, the implications of what I'm seeing sinking in with each passing moment.

My grandfather nods in agreement, his expression grim. "Indeed," he says, his voice tight with tension. "It seems that Oberon has been keeping a close eye on our movements. We must be prepared for whatever lies ahead."

With a silent nod, we steel ourselves for the challenges that await us within the castle walls. There's no turning back now—we've come too far to falter in the face of adversity.

The force of my arctic winds rips through the air, tearing the doors off their hinges with a deafening crash. The sound echoes through the grand hall, shattering the silence and announcing our presence to anyone who might be listening. Any hope of stealth has long since been abandoned—now, it's all about making a statement.

My grandfather chuckles beside me, amusement dancing in his eyes as he surveys the aftermath of my rather dramatic entrance. I can't help but smirk, the tension of our mission momentarily forgotten in the face of his lighthearted humor. Sometimes, you just have to laugh in the face of danger.

But as we step into the grand hall, the gravity of our situation weighs heavily upon us once more. The walls are adorned with elaborate murals depicting the history of the fae, their intricate designs a testament to the skill and artistry of their creators. One mural in particular catches my eye—a grand depiction of the Blood Queen, her fierce visage staring down at us from the wall with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine.

I study the mural, my gaze lingering on the striking resemblance between the Blood Queen and myself. It's unsettling, to say the least, to be confronted with a reflection of my destiny so starkly displayed before me. But before I can dwell on the implications of what I see, Oberon's voice cuts through the air like a knife, drawing our attention to the top of the curved staircase.

"You are my greatest accomplishment," he declares, his voice ringing out with a chilling certainty that sends a shiver down my spine. I turn to face him, my expression hardening into a scowl as I meet his gaze head-on.

"Great, I was a science project," I growl, the bitterness of my words laced with anger and resentment. The knowledge that I am nothing more than a pawn in Oberon's game fills me with a sense of righteous fury, fueling the fire burning within me.

"You are a means to an end, little one," Oberon retorts, his tone dripping with smug superiority. It's clear that he sees me as nothing more than a tool to be wielded for his own purposes, a pawn in his quest for power and domination.

But I refuse to be reduced to such a role—I am more than just a weapon to be used and discarded at his whim. With a steely resolve, I square my shoulders and meet Oberon's gaze with a defiant glare, refusing to back down in the face of his arrogance.

The tension in the air crackles with the promise of violence as we stand locked in a silent standoff, each of us daring the other to make the first move. But before the tension can escalate any further, a sudden movement catches my eye—a shadowy figure emerging from the shadows at Oberon's side.

It's one of his elite guards, a formidable warrior clad in gleaming armor, his eyes cold and calculating as he surveys us with a look of disdain. In an instant, the atmosphere in the grand hall shifts, the air thick with the promise of impending conflict.

Without a word, I raise my gauntleted hand, summoning forth the power of my force weapon as it crackles with energy at my fingertips. My grandfather mirrors my actions, his own talons gleaming in the dim light of the hall as he prepares for battle.

Oberon watches us with a predatory gleam in his eyes, his lips curling into a cruel smile as he readies himself for the inevitable confrontation. The stage is set; the players assembled—the only question that remains is who will emerge victorious in this deadly game of cat and mouse.

With a silent nod to my grandfather, I take a step forward, my eyes locked on Oberon's as I prepare to face him head-on. Whatever happens next, I am ready to fight—to protect my family, my allies, and everything I hold dear.

Laughter bubbles up from deep within me, erupting like a volcano and echoing through the grand hall with a maniacal edge. It's a sound that borders on madness, fueled by the sheer absurdity of the situation we find ourselves in. My grandfather raises an eyebrow in response to my sudden outburst, his expression a mix of concern and amusement as he regards me with a knowing look. He understands the depths of my frustration, the simmering rage that boils just beneath the surface.

"You find something amusing, little one?" he asks, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. He knows as well as I do that there's nothing funny about the predicament we're in, but sometimes laughter is the only release we have in the face of overwhelming odds.

"I agree. I am a means to an end. Your end," I reply, my tone dripping with venom as I fix Oberon with a glare that could curdle milk. The weight of his betrayal hangs heavy in the air between us, a silent accusation that he can't ignore. I refuse to be a pawn in his twisted game any longer—I am the master of my destiny, and I will not let him dictate my fate.

As I speak, I can feel the temperature in the room dropping, the air growing colder with each passing moment. Snow begins to fall from the ceiling, swirling around us in a whirlwind of icy flakes. The guards shift uncomfortably, their breath visible in the frigid air as they struggle to maintain their composure in the face of the sudden onslaught.

Oberon's lavender eyes dart around the room, his confidence faltering as he realizes that he may have underestimated us. For the first time since we entered the grand hall, I see a flicker of doubt in his gaze—a crack in the fa?ade of his arrogance that hints at the vulnerability lurking beneath.

But even as doubt gnaws at his resolve, Oberon remains defiant, his gaze locked on mine with a steely determination that refuses to yield. He knows that he's backed into a corner, that there's no easy way out of this confrontation. But he's not about to go down without a fight.

With a sudden surge of power, Oberon raises his hand, summoning forth a swirling vortex of energy that crackles with dark magic. The air hums with tension as the room fills with the sound of crackling electricity, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end as the energy builds to a crescendo.

In an instant, the vortex erupts into a raging storm of lightning and thunder, the force of its power threatening to engulf us in its destructive fury. But I refuse to back down—I summon forth the power of my force weapon, channeling it into a barrier of energy that surrounds us, protecting us from the worst of the storm. I drop the barrier the moment the storm stops and prepare to go on the defensive.

The guards spring into action, launching themselves at us with weapons drawn and fury in their eyes. But we are ready for them—we meet their onslaught head-on, our gauntlets flashing as we unleash a barrage of ice and force that sends them reeling back.

The grand hall becomes a battleground, the clash of steel against our scales and the roar of magic filling the air as we fight tooth and nail against Oberon's forces. It's a chaotic symphony of violence and destruction, each blow struck with deadly precision as we battle for our lives and the lives of those we hold dear.

But even as we fight, I can't shake the feeling that this is only the beginning—that the true test of our strength and resolve still lies ahead. Oberon may be powerful, but he's not invincible—and neither am I.

The air crackles with energy as I continue to manipulate the elements, channeling my power into a bitter cold that permeates the grand hall. Frost forms on the walls, icicles hanging like daggers from the ceiling, as the temperature plummets to bone-chilling levels. My grandfather and I remain unaffected by the icy blast, our bodies insulated against the cold by the power of our dragon blood.

But the elves are not so fortunate. Their movements become sluggish, their breath visible in the frigid air as they struggle to maintain their footing on the slippery marble floor. Some of them collapse entirely, their bodies succumbing to the numbing cold as they lie motionless on the ground.

I can't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at their plight—a grim reminder of the power I wield and the price of defying me. Another one bites the dust , I think to myself, a hint of dark humor creeping into my thoughts as I recall the lyrics of an old human song.

With each step we take, the distance between us and Oberon grows shorter, the sound of our footsteps echoing through the silent hall like a death knell. I can sense his fear, his desperation, as he realizes he is no match for the combined might of my grandfather and I. But instead of facing us head-on, he flees, disappearing down a corridor at the far end of the hall.

Without hesitation, we give chase, our footsteps echoing through the empty corridors as we race after Oberon with single-minded determination. The walls blur past us in a dizzying whirl of stone and tapestry, our senses heightened as we search for any sign of our elusive quarry.

But Oberon is a master of deception, his footsteps echoing through the labyrinthine halls as he leads us on a wild goose chase through the heart of the castle. Doors slam shut behind us, corridors twist and turn in on themselves, and traps spring to life at every turn, each one designed to thwart our progress and delay our pursuit.

But we refuse to be deterred. With each obstacle we overcome, our resolve only strengthens, our determination unyielding in the face of adversity. We know Oberon is leading us into a trap, that every step we take brings us one step closer to our doom. But we press on regardless, driven by the need to confront our enemy and put an end to his reign of terror once and for all.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, we reach the end of the corridor, emerging into a vast chamber bathed in shadows. At the far end of the room, seated upon a throne of obsidian, sits Oberon, his lavender eyes glittering with malice as he regards us with a cold, calculating gaze.

"Well, well, well," he says, his voice dripping with scorn as he gestures for us to approach. "It seems you've finally caught up to me. But tell me, what do you hope to accomplish? You cannot defeat me, not with all the power in the world at your disposal."

I grit my teeth in frustration, my anger boiling over at his taunts. "We'll see about that," I growl, my voice laced with venom as I take a step forward. "You may have eluded us for now, but your time is running out. We'll stop you, no matter what it takes."

With a wave of his hand, Oberon summons forth a legion of shadowy creatures, their forms twisted by dark magic. They swarm around us like a pack of hungry wolves, their eyes gleaming with malevolence as they prepare to strike.

But we are ready for them. With a roar of defiance, we charge into battle, our gauntlets flashing as we unleash a torrent of ice and force that cuts through the ranks of our enemies like a hot knife through butter. The chamber erupts into chaos, the sound of steel clashing against our scales echoing through the air as we fight tooth and nail for our lives.

But even as we battle against the tide of darkness, I can't shake the feeling that Oberon is toying with us—that he's holding something back, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And as the battle rages on, I know that our time is running out—that if we don't stop him soon, it may already be too late.