I won't fall for the queen who burned my world-Chapter 192: Choose your side

She had imagined this moment so many times over the months—how it would feel to see Lady Seraphina again.

Sometimes, it was in dreams where Seraphina smiled, her scarred hands resting proudly on Elysia’s shoulders.

Other times, it was in nightmares, where that same face turned away in disappointment. But Elysia had never imagined this.

Not like this.

Seraphina stood tall in the fractured light of the throne room, silver armor dusted with ash, her stance as rigid and powerful as Elysia remembered.

She looked unchanged despite the years short-cropped black hair, sun-darkened skin, her body carved from discipline and war.

Only her green eyes had shifted. They weren’t the warm, watchful gaze Elysia had known as a child. Now, they were sharp, cold, and unreadable.

Still, Elysia’s heart ached at the sight of her.

She took a shaky step forward, unsure whether she wanted to cry or embrace her.

"Lady Seraphina..." Her voice trembled. "It’s been a while."

Seraphina didn’t move.

Didn’t smile.

Her eyes flicked from Malvoria—who was slowly rising, blood trailing from her mouth—to Zera, who was still poised like a predator at Elysia’s side. And finally... to Elysia.

"You’ve grown soft," Seraphina said, and the words sliced deeper than any blade.

Elysia flinched.

Seraphina didn’t stop.

"I trained you to fight. To survive. To protect what matters. And this?" She gestured to the burning palace, to Malvoria. "This is what you’ve chosen?"

Elysia opened her mouth, but Seraphina’s expression sharpened.

"We came here to get you out," she snapped. "That was the mission. Free your father. Pull you out of this pit. Not watch you throw yourself into the arms of the woman who nearly destroyed our kingdom."

"That’s not fair," Elysia said, her voice cracking.

Seraphina raised a brow. "Isn’t it?"

Elysia swallowed hard. "You don’t know what’s happened. You don’t know her—"

"I know exactly what she is." Her voice dropped, bitter with fury.

"I’ve seen the bodies she left in the battlefield. I watched her forces burn through villages like they were nothing but obstacles. I watched you break when your father surrendered you to her like a lamb to slaughter."

Tears burned behind Elysia’s eyes.

"You don’t understand—"

"I understand perfectly," Seraphina said. "You lost sight of yourself. Of your purpose. And instead of escaping, instead of surviving, you fell into her lap and pretended it was love."

Elysia stepped back as if struck.

"I do love her," she whispered.

Seraphina’s jaw tightened.

"I watched you grow," she said, quieter now, but no less severe.

"From the first time you held a sword. From the first time you disarmed me without even knowing it. I trained you because I believed in you, because you were meant to lead. And now I come here and find you wearing demon silks, holding demon hands, forgetting everything you were born to protect."

"It’s not like that," Elysia said, voice trembling. "It’s complicated. It changed. She changed."

"She’s a demon," Seraphina spat. "And she’s the enemy."

Elysia looked to Malvoria—bruised, bloodied, rising to her feet without a single complaint. She looked back to Seraphina, the woman who once held her hand through nightmares.

And her heart cracked in two.

"I don’t want to fight you," Elysia said.

Seraphina’s green eyes softened—but only for a heartbeat.

"Then come with us," she said. "We get your father. We leave. We end this."

"I can’t."

"You can."

Elysia hesitated.

And Seraphina’s voice turned cold again. Final.

"Choose your side, Elysia," she said, drawing her blade. "Either you come with us... or we might have to fight."

Elysia didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

The weight of Seraphina’s ultimatum crushed the air in her lungs, pressed down on her chest like a thousand-pound truth. This wasn’t just a confrontation. This was war between the two halves of her life.

Her past.

And her present.

The woman who trained her to survive... and the one who taught her how to live.

Zera raised her hand, magic flaring around her fingers. Seraphina’s grip on her sword tightened. And in that terrible heartbeat—Elysia knew.

They would attack.

They wouldn’t wait for her answer.

They had already decided she had chosen wrong.

But just as Seraphina shifted her stance to lunge, the air cracked.

Malvoria moved.

Faster than any mortal thing, faster than light in a tunnel.

One moment, she stood bloodied and still, and the next—she was beside Elysia, her arms sweeping her close with all the precision of someone used to saving lives mid-battle. Flame erupted around them in a shield, carving a burning arc between the two sides.

The world glowed red-orange, a heatwave pushing Zera and Seraphina back.

Malvoria’s grey eyes met Elysia’s for a flicker of a second. "I’ve got you."

And then her hand tightened—and something new formed in her palm.

Flames coiled upward like a phoenix being born.

They spiraled, twisted, solidified.

A sword.

Not just fire shaped into a weapon—this was alive, forged with magic so dense Elysia could feel it humming against her skin. Malvoria held it out to her.

"Take it," she said.

Elysia hesitated for less than a second before her fingers closed around the hilt.

Heat pulsed up her arm, but it didn’t burn. It settled into her bones like it belonged there.

And for the first time that night, her fear shifted into something else.

Resolve.

She stepped forward, eyes on Seraphina and Zera, the flame-sword glowing in her hand.

Malvoria stood beside her, lifting her own blade, a wicked smile carving across her face.

"Now," she said, voice low and electric, "let’s beat them."

The firelight from her blade flickered across the cracked obsidian floor, casting long shadows that danced like ghosts between the fallen pillars.

Elysia’s grip tightened around the hilt. The weapon hummed, its heat familiar now steady, alive, as if it had chosen her as much as Malvoria had.

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed. "So that’s your answer."

Zera stepped beside her, magic flaring in her palm again. "She’s made her choice. Let’s remind her what that costs."

But Elysia didn’t flinch.

She stood shoulder to shoulder with Malvoria, flame curling along the edge of her sword, defiant despite the shaking in her legs.

"I don’t want to fight you," she said, voice steady despite the storm inside her. "But I won’t let you hurt her."

Malvoria gave her a sidelong glance—quick, surprised, proud.

Then Seraphina moved.

And so did they.

Fire met steel, lightning cracked through the air, and the sound of blades clashing rang through the ruined throne room.

Elysia struck, blocking Seraphina’s blade with her flaming sword, the heat pushing back against the weight of her mentor’s fury.

She didn’t know if she would win.

But she wasn’t running.

Not anymore.