Sorry, My Love: The Adventures of Lovers-Chapter 39: When Storms Wear Crowns

The storm continued, its wrath a black, raging beast that rent the trees and whipped the sea into frenzy. Queen Hanna struggled on in the darkness, her vision keen, her cloak billowing around her like a vengeful spirit as she followed for any glimpse of Margo. The deformed, splintered trees leaned low as she walked, the wind wailing along their limbs, foretelling chaos and death.

She had witnessed motion previously. Two forms crouched behind a broken trunk, their breaths anxious gasps. Zoe and Owen, their faces pale and dirty with dust, their eyes wide with terror as the ground trembled under their feet. Hanna's mouth twisting into a cold smile, she stepped nearer, her staff humming with brute strength.

"You," she growled, her own voice cutting above the screaming gusts like steel. "Where is Margo?"

Zoe's gaze lashed up, her hand fisted around twisted bark beside her as she sought to rise from the ground. She glared at Hanna, her teeth clamped. "I never laid eyes on her," she screamed, her own voice shaking but unbroken.

Hanna's eyes were narrowed, and for a moment the storm was stayed to breathe. Then a crack of thunder in the air, and two figures appeared alongside them, their bodies solidifying in a swirl of smoke and lightning. Margarette and Carl, their eyes blazing with the same otherworldly light as the storm itself, their muscles tensed, their faces contorted into snarls.

Carl's yell tore the air asunder, raw and untrimmed, a savage voice that shook the broken branches about them. Margarette's fingers cracked with dark power, her eyes locked on Zoe and Owen as she came forward, her shadow falling long and lean on the muddy earth.

Queen Hanna's eyes blazed as she warred stares with Margarette's glare. A word unspoken, she pulled out her spear from her back, the blade shining in the broken light. She threw it with all force she could, the spear zipping through the air like a shaft of unadulterated fury. It struck Zoe in the chest, hoisting her off her feet as the spear plunged deep into her body, pinning her to the splintered tree behind.

Zoe's scream pierced the tempest, her eyes empty with horror, her fists twisted on the wood as blood seeped across her chest, discoloring her clothing a rich, hammering red. Queen Hanna moved forward, her hands gripping the spear shaft, her grip firm and unyielding. She spun it, her lips twisted into a snarl as she tore Zoe out of the tree and threw her to the side, her broken body rolling in the mud, her scream muffled by the screaming wind.

Carl bellowed again, his eyes burning with fury as he charged at Hanna, his fists crackling with black power. Owen hid behind the tree, his ragged gasps of air hissing in shuddering, terrified bursts as the earth trembled beneath his feet. Margarette entered the fight, her palms aflame as she hurled balls of power at the queen, each one shattering trees and splinters of wood flying through the air.

Their earth shook beneath their feet, their roots writhing and twisting as if desperately trying to escape the bloodbath above. The goblins, their revolting goblin-like forms scuttling through the gloom, withdrew, their dark eyes nervously darting to the bloodshed. They withdrew, their misshapen rafts creaking beneath the turbulent sea as they beat their way towards Maranaqua, their sick, guttural cries engulfed by the storm.

Carl grabbed Owen, his huge hands wrapped around the thin shoulders of the boy, and hoisted him off the ground. "Stay with Margarette," he snarled, his voice rough and deep, his gaze fixed on the running goblins. Owen nodded, his face white, his breath in tiny, terrified gasps, as Carl let him go and ran for the boats, his fists cracking with black, angry energy.

Queen Hanna followed close behind, her spear whirling in her grasp as she leaped aboard the leading boat, her sword glinting in the darkened air as she sliced at the goblins, their monstrous forms falling into the inky water with every swing. Carl trailed behind her, his fists raining upon the creatures, his roars booming over the tempest-tossed waves as the boats splintered beneath his wrath.

But as he attacked a pack of goblins, a glittering, sparkling mist rolled across his face, a cold, stinging dust that stuck to his skin, searing his eyes and choking his lungs. He stumbled, his eyesight blurring, his fists lashing as he fought for air, the world whirling about him in a maelstrom of agony and darkness.

Hanna stood and watched him fall, her lips twisting into a cold smile as she retreated, the powder glinting in the storm-torn air around her like the dying god's breath.

Far away, in the black maw of a cave, Ava and the others clung together, breathing cold, frightened gasps as the earth trembled beneath their feet. The Holy Land warriors had tracked them down, their armored bodies moving forward into the darkness like specters, their swords flashing in the feeble light of the torches. Knights and villagers, their faces contorted into masks of holy wrath, moved forward on the cave, their war cries echoing off the dripping stone.

Ava moved forward, clenched fists as she threw her arms wide open, eyes burning with a fierce, guardedly shining light. She would shield them. She would never allow them to fall. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

Beyond in the forest, King Vesh held his sword to a mad, wild rage, his armor drenched in blood, his rasping breathing as he killed Holy Land warriors. He glided like a spirit between the trees, his blade shining in the stormlight as the knights dropped about him, their blood pouring into the black, twisting roots under his feet.

But even while he battled, even more fighters burst between the trees, their hideously twisted, bloodied faces illuminated by the strobing light of the tempest. They hurtled on to Simbaku and Maranaqua, their shrieks reverberating in the forest as the world beyond them tore apart.