The fairy girl’s wings were like a weightless transparent fabric, shimmering with all facets even without sunlight.

When she regained her attention, she noticed hundreds... no, thousands... thousands of faeries who were fighting fiercely against the witches. And there was no end to spells and magic, there was no second when a collision did not occur, from which both sides suffered.

Temithea jumped down into the trampled bloody snow with her feet and gasped soundlessly when something crunched under her feet. She lowered her head down and lightly stirred the snow with the toe of her shoe, noticing a flickering wing that was covered in blood and lay torn off by an unnecessary thing.

She was afraid to even imagine the agony in which this fairy was dying, having lost his wings alive. Guilt gripped her, because the faeries were here for her, fighting for her and dying for her.

Pursing her lips from the fact that her eyes began to sting from tears, she suddenly, unexpectedly for herself, screamed loudly, pouring out all her pain in this scream. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if reflecting the color of the bloody snow under her feet.

- You can hear me, right? - She screamed with all her might.

- You need me, so come and fight with me! You’re a cowardly old witch! - saliva sprayed from her mouth, from anger, from anger, but she didn’t care, she continued to scream, tearing out her throat.

- I know what you’re hearing! Don’t you dare ignore me and hide behind weaklings! I’m waiting for you here and now! – she roared, which attracted the attention of both allies and enemies. Everyone was at a loss.

She stood surrounded by a large crowd, which froze for a moment, but immediately everything returned a hundredfold, the whistling of spells, the flashing of swords, growls and screams.

She was shaking, not from the cold, but from anger. At one point, she thought she was making a mistake by summoning Lillian, but she wanted so much to believe that Eugene’s prophecy was correct. She wanted to believe that she would not die and would lead her people out of this bloody war. Maybe the sooner they come together in a one-on-one duel, the sooner one of them will die and everything will be over.

But no matter what the circumstances, she wasn’t going to mess around. She will fight with all her might to the end.

She rushed forward, cutting off the arm of the witch who attacked the fae man with her sword. With a dull thud, the bloody limb fell and the magic wand fell out of their open fingers.

The Fae took a quick glance, but didn’t bother to thank him and rushed to help his people. Their wings fluttered as fast as the wings of a hummingbird, almost imperceptibly.

Crouching, Temithea fell to her knees and pushed her foot forward, forcing the witcher to prostrate before her sword found his bare throat. Although her movements were inferior to the speed of other races, they were still fast and precise.

In a circular motion, she turned around, slashing several enemies. It was not necessary to kill, just a touch of the sword was enough for the enemy to die in agony and agony.

A squelching sound made her look down at her feet. The trampled snow began to melt too quickly, and the air warmed up, enveloping the summer heat. She turned around, casting an agitated glance back. Could something have happened to Terrence? But she couldn’t go back to check, because at that moment she was slashed by fire in the thigh area.

The sharp pain caused her to fall to one knee and she covered the bleeding cut with her hand. Grunting, she got up, still clutching the injury.

Her armor was a reliable protection for her body, but the witches had become too strong using black magic and this was not surprising to her.

She frowned, but immediately her face was colored with surprise, genuine, vulnerable, painful.

The man, who held in his hand a whip woven from the smallest light fibers, looked at her angrily, with an undisguised thirst for murder. There was no longer an ounce of the kindness she knew in that look. She couldn’t find a drop of regret on that bearded and moustached face.

- Simon. - She hissed, holding back her annoyance.

They were good acquaintances. Not friends, but not enemies either. He said that she attracted his attention, he liked her. And now he was ready to kill her? There is a rather sharp contrast in the change of mood.

The man looked at her coldly and whipped her again instead of answering.

Temithea freed her hand from the sword, causing it to disappear just as it had appeared, and both her hands were now ready to fight the powerful witcher. She didn’t want to kill him. She wanted to try to explain herself to him, to try to win him over to her side.

She talked to him every time she dodged and blocked his attacks, but he didn’t bother to answer her with a single word. His eyes were impenetrably icy, and his attacks were fierce.

No argument allowed her to get through to him and it seemed that her hands were about to fall, but Eugene arrived faster than she made the decision to kill Simon.

- He’s bewitched. Stop it! - she shouted.- He would never hurt you of his own free will. You should know that.

- And what should we do? - She shouted back, once again sending ice spikes at Simon.

- Have you ever tried to do magic on a large scale? You have perfect ice magic, so freeze him.

Temithea couldn’t believe that it hadn’t occurred to her. All this time, all she did was kill enemies. But she could have avoided so many unnecessary sacrifices if she had sealed them in ice crystals. She could have done the same with Madeleine, but it was too late.

- I can try to do that, but he needs to be immobilized.

- Leave it to me.

Eugene made the ground tremble, thick stone spikes began to appear under her feet, more than two meters high, which surrounded Simon’s wall. One would have thought that it was so simple, but Olish was an experienced witcher and scattered all the stone statues around him to smithereens. Eugene winced, but immediately pulled herself together.

She made the tip of her magic wand shine brightly as dozens of phantoms appeared in front of her.

TemiThea smiled like a child. It was a great idea to detain him. He could have easily dealt with one or more phantoms, but fighting dozens at once was a super serious and very dangerous task.

As expected, Olish was caught off guard by this state of affairs and was harassed into a ring. At that moment, Temithea gathered her strength and materialized a huge transparent ice crystal around him, which seemed to bury Simon alive inside itself.

- Until better times. – she muttered, touching the icy glass with her hand. - You shouldn’t die for the ambitions of this terrible man.

- When it’s over, you can tell him that.

- More than anything, I’m afraid to fight with those who are dear to me. Pointing guns at them is an unbearably painful task for me.

- I understand. But this is a necessity from which there is no escape and no hiding. We’ll get through this, my dear. - Eugene’s kind smile was motherly warm and it made Temithea’s heart flutter.

Without noticing it, her hair turned brown at once, and the azure blue of her eyes gave way to deep brown. A chill ran down her spine.