Titania stumbled back, her pale, distorted face illuminated by the pink sky. Pure horror swirled in her wide green eyes as they reflected Mab’s slender body.
Her dark gothic dress fluttered as she planted her fists on her hips. A cruel smile split her regal face, her purple eyes blazing with millennia-old unappeased hatred.
The former queen of fairies, the deadly queen of magic... has returned. And she was not alone.
Not only was the white-haired demon standing beside her, but another man was here, as well.
A glance at his fierce, horned helmet and spiked abyssal knight armor sent a shudder down her spine. If knights represented light, his attire whispered that he was their antithesis.
But it was his blue eyes that forced her to gulp drily. They sparkled with cold, murderous intent and unsettling glee. She knew this gaze. The gaze of a murderer who enjoyed butchering living beings like sheep—someone who would strangle life itself if he could.
She bit her quivering lip. The plan was for her to kill the demon, then join Oberon to end Adam. So, how did she end up facing three adversaries instead of one?
The answer... she knew it.
If Oberon could negate much of Mab’s authority over dreams, she had taught him everything he knew. His spells’ unnoticeable flaws were glaring weaknesses to her, loopholes she could exploit... No, she already had.
As the answer unravelled in her mind, Mab’s icy voice reverberated.
"Oh, has the mighty Titania lost her voice? How delicious." Mab twirled her fingers lazily, leaving a slender gap between them. "Only a little disappointment, mind you. I’ll soon find comfort in the melody of your shrieking despair. A fitting reward, wouldn’t you say?"
She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Hijacking a divine spell isn’t something your pretty little court hands could ever hope to manage." A mocking laugh flowed from her lips. "And you dared crown yourself queen of magic while I was away? How quaint."
Although Titania had deduced as much, her voice came out hoarse and cracking, far from her usual eloquence. "Y-Your knowledge of magic can’t be this deep. No one’s can, or it would mean..."
Her voice died in her throat for a second before she continued. "That you can bend cosmic laws to some extent. But it makes no sense... We sealed you after the Great War, and even if you left echoes of your dreams in Britain, you lost your divinity. You couldn’t develop this ability before, much less after recovering last year."
Mab sneered. "The answer is quite simple, my dear Titania. Laughably simple. I always could."
A grimace twisted Titania’s face. "How did we defeat you if you always could?"
"Why not amuse me and take a guess?" Mab lifted her hand, deathly mana coiling in threads of pale blue and deep black. "Though I doubt a spoiled child like you could fathom it." Her smile deepened, cruel and graceful. "No matter. Allow me to offer a final lesson before I bring this pitiful little play to its end and drop the curtain for good."
A brief silence filled the dreamworld before she sighed, and her voice took a softer tone.
"Because I was a mother who watched her son stumble into his first steps and weave the clumsiest of spells. Because I’ve loved him more than any ever would. I couldn’t bear to defeat Oberon. I let you claim your petty victory and prepared to vanish quietly from the stage. But you, in your boundless arrogance, caged me, tortured me, for eons."
Mab’s stare turned glacial. "You call yourself the fairest and most graceful of the Fae, yet all I see is a wretched beast baring its teeth." Her final words rang out like a curse: "I no longer love him. And that, Titania, is your doing."
"Lies! This is not the cruel Mab we know... It’s impossible."
Amusement returned to her eyes as she watched Titania clutch her head, grappling with the painful truth. Not that it mattered to her. Words were weapons she weaved with equal mastery to magic, yet lying to a dead wench was beneath her.
"I created what you deprived me of in Britain. Mordred! Show her how insignificant her life achievements are."
The black knight unsheathed his sword, ceremonial jewels glistening in red, turquoise, and violet on its guard. The long double-edged blade flashed a cold light on Titania’s face as he grinned.
"I almost fell asleep. Excuse me, Grandma, but why must you overcomplicate everything? She’s an enemy; she dies. As simple as that." He licked his lips, Titania’s frail figure appearing like prey in his eyes. "A goddess, huh? Feel honored, for you’ll be the first to crown my hunting board. But fret not. Many will soon join you."
Garduck sighed beside him, almost feeling bad for her—almost. Yet, he found amusement in this bizarre situation. How come the demon sounded the least demonic amidst this bunch of madmen? The more he saw the world outside the demon realm and territory, the more his already strong belief in Adam firmed.
Demons were cunning bastards, but the humans who had ruled Oikos were far worse. So was the elven council in the south, who tried to weaponise their entire population. Now the fairies joined their ranks in his mind. Oberon and Titania were no better than demons. As Adam had claimed, species didn’t matter, only actions. And his would resound loud and clear.
His hands tightened around his broad sword just as Mordred allured into action. He followed him effortlessly, his stomps cracking the pink sky.
Titania reacted to the noise, but it didn’t matter anymore. Mab’s revelations, added to her recent defeat, consumed her mind in useless thoughts.
Still, she flew up, mana swirling around her wings. But to what end?
As soon as wood, water, and earth condensed into constructs, Mab gestured with her palm delicately from the ground.
A torrent of frost and death washed over the growing wood, splashing water, and rumbling earth, obliterating nature with their insurmountable counters. Strangely, though, he noticed she didn’t attack after that. No, not strange. He knew her by now. She just aimed to humiliate her even during her last stand.
’A queen doesn’t sully her hands with corrupted blood. You’re unworthy, Titania. Two blades will suffice to sever what little dignity remains.’ That’s what he imagined her saying with her cutting tone.
But in reality, she didn’t even deign to offer her another word. Instead, frozen pillars erupted beneath his and Mordred’s feet. Winds whipped against their hair as they rose to match her height. Their two blades flashed, the ice spreading onto a broad platform as a symphony of death accompanied Titania’s last play.