Chapter 67: The Storm Breaks
Little 7 remained behind, standing in the shadow of a broken wall where the fire had long died out. The Shrouded One's words echoed in his mind like a curse.
What if you were taken too? What if your brother didn't die by accident? What if you've been living a lie?
He shook his head. No. It couldn't be true. He remembered his brother—how they played together, how they shared their food, how they cried together when cold nights swept through the orphanage. But… was it really an orphanage? He had always believed that's where they'd lived, but now he couldn't even remember its name, its location. It was like grasping at mist.
There was a part of him, buried deep and trembling, that wanted it to be true. That maybe—just maybe—he had parents. A real family. Someone who had held him gently and whispered promises of love.
But if it were true… that would mean they were gone now. Tortured. Erased. And he didn't know if he could bear that truth.
Despite telling himself to let it go, Little 7 couldn't resist. Curiosity began to eat away at him like a silent fire. Unknowingly, he started seeking out the oldest servants in the mansion, those who had served the Master from the earliest days. He asked carefully worded questions, listened for slips of the tongue, and quietly pieced together a puzzle long buried.
---
Meanwhile, the girls had finally discovered the Master's current hiding place—a distant, heavily protected estate hidden deep within the mountains.
"Now's the time to act," Ariella declared. "He's distracted. His prized weapon has turned against him, and even his sons are shaken."
But Elara hesitated. "Let's consult the Queens first. They warned us once not to rush."
When the Blue and White Queens appeared to them in the dream realm, their message was clear.
"You must not rush into battle," the Blue Queen cautioned. "The Banished Prince has gathered powers from the old world—things forbidden, ancient, and deadly."
"You must learn who he truly is," added the White Queen, "and how strong he has become through the years. Every son he raised was part of a greater ritual."
With that warning, the girls began to investigate.
Bit by bit, they uncovered the truth—nine sons had once lived under the Master's roof, named simply from Little 1 to Little 9. All had perished in strange, hidden ways—except for Percy, Little 7, and the rogue Little 9. The Master had used their powers, their deaths, for something deeper. A ritual, perhaps. A binding. The remaining servants were mostly powerless, though some had been gifted unnatural lifespans.
It was enough.
"We strike tonight," Ariella said, and Elara didn't argue.
That night, as clouds rolled across the moon and the mountain air thickened with tension, the girls approached the mansion not through the front, but through the earth.
Elara had spent days weaving a tunnel spell beneath the mountain's surface, crafted from the roots of ancient trees and reinforced with rock-bound magic. When the moment came, a violent quake split the earth just beneath the mansion's foundations.
From the tunnels rose a rush of stone and flame—arcane sigils flared bright blue and white, lifting huge blocks of earth into the air and crashing them down like meteors.
The Master awoke to thunderous crashes and panicked screams.
"INTRUDERS!"
The ground trembled beneath him. Glass shattered. Flames leapt through the air.
Percy and Little 7 ran out from their quarters, just as the front gate exploded inward. Dust and wind swept through the courtyard.
And from the wreckage stepped the girls—Elara and Ariella—cloaked in radiant power.
They looked older somehow. Stronger. And their eyes no longer held fear.
"You've grown bold," the Master growled, stepping down from the burning steps.
"We've grown aware," Ariella shot back.
He sneered. "Do you think you can frighten me with your childish rebellion?"
But the girls didn't flinch.
The Master unleashed the first strike—a wave of fire that scorched the earth, but the girls countered with a shield of mist and wind. The air pulsed as the two sides clashed.
Spells collided. Stones shattered. Servants scattered.
In the chaos, Little 7 tried to join the battle, but a stray bolt of dark energy veered off course and slammed into his chest. He stumbled back, gasping. Blood stained his tunic.
"Little 7!" Percy cried out.
The Master turned, eyes wide. "No—!"
But it was too late. Little 7 collapsed to the ground, his eyes glassy and unfocused.
The Master roared, his fury shaking the earth, but the girls pushed harder. Ariella hurled chains of light, Elara summoned roaring winds. The Master fought back, but his attention faltered. His anger clouded his judgment.
Another spell struck him, this time slicing across his side.
Percy, in a moment of instinct and desperation, jumped in front of his father, arms spread. A searing blade of light, launched from Ariella's hands, struck him in the side—piercing deep into his shoulder and down through his ribs.
He cried out in pain, collapsing beside Little 7.
The Master grabbed Percy before he hit the ground fully and held him close. His face, twisted in rage a moment ago, was now a portrait of pain.
"We're leaving," he muttered.
"But—" a servant protested.
"I said we're leaving!"
He activated the hidden rune beneath the earth—a blood-bound teleportation sigil—and in a blink of light, the Master vanished along with Percy and Little 7's lifeless body.
---
The silence after their departure was filled with smoke and the sound of crumbling stone.
The girls stood amid the ruins, panting, their hands trembling from the power they'd unleashed.
"You were right," Elara murmured. "He's not just evil. He's prepared."
Voices rose behind them—surviving servants, clutching wounds, some looking at the girls with hate, others with fearful reverence.
"You don't have to follow him," Ariella shouted. "He's the banished prince! A liar and a murderer! You can be free of him."
But the servants only shook their heads.
"He gave us immortality," one whispered. "He made us eternal. You can't offer us that."
"You'll fall with him," Elara warned.
"Then so be it."
The girls exchanged glances. There was no point in arguing further.
They turned and left the burning mansion behind, the wind scattering ash around their feet.