Watcher of Fate

A brilliant light erupted in the cavernous expanse above the villa, piercing the perpetual darkness of the Underdark. A miniature sun, radiant and glorious, burst into existence, its golden rays banishing shadows and illuminating the desolate landscape. The once-dim surroundings were now awash with warm hues of dawn, an otherworldly sight in this realm of eternal night.

All around Elara, the [Drow] soldiers recoiled in agony. Accustomed only to the faint bioluminescence of fungi and the soft glow of subterranean crystals, the sudden blaze of sunlight was overwhelming. They clutched at their eyes, screams of pain and panic echoing through the devastated garden. Weapons clattered to the ground as they staggered blindly, their finely honed senses betrayed by the unfamiliar brilliance.

Even the mighty [Deep Dragon] was not immune to the spectacle. The colossal creature cowered on the ground, its luminescent eyes squeezed shut against the searing light. With a guttural groan, it curled its massive body inward, folding its tattered wings over its head in a desperate attempt to shield itself. The dragon's obsidian scales shimmered uncomfortably under the intense glow, its fear palpable as it faced the artificial sun.

Elara stood at the heart of this manufactured dawn, feeling the relentless drain on her mana as she sustained the [Warped Reality]. Each passing moment sapped more of her strength, beads of sweat forming on her brow. Her breathing grew shallow, but she maintained her focus, knowing that relinquishing the spell would forfeit the advantage she had created.

Her eyes scanned the chaotic scene, searching for any sign of Lady Selya. The Matron was nowhere to be seen amidst the turmoil. Frustration flickered across Elara's face. If I can't find her yet, I can at least thin out her forces.

Reaching into the shadows at her side, Elara drew forth several of her corpse acquired knives, their blades semi dulled with use. With deft movements, she wove silver threads of force around them, the magic intertwining and solidifying with each gesture. The knives levitated before her, encased in tendrils of shadow that pulsed with latent energy.

Spotting a cluster of disoriented [Drow] soldiers fumbling nearby, Elara directed the knives toward them. The shadow-wreathed blades darted through the air like serpents, swift and silent. The first knife plunged into a soldier's chest, slipping between the plates of his armor. He gasped, a look of surprise etched on his face as he collapsed.

Another knife found its mark in the neck of a warrior who was rubbing his eyes furiously, trying to dispel the blinding spots clouding his vision. Blood spilled over his hands as he crumpled to the ground. A third blade sliced through the air, embedding itself in the back of a retreating soldier who had dropped his weapon in panic.

Elara moved like a conductor orchestrating a deadly symphony, her hands guiding the lethal dance of blades. The knives weaved through the battlefield, striking down foes with unerring precision. Shadows clung to them, masking their approach until the final moment. The soldiers stood little chance; their senses overwhelmed, they fell one by one to the unseen assailants.

Amidst the carnage, Elara's gaze remained sharp, ever vigilant for Lady Selya. She stepped over the fallen without hesitation, her focus unbroken even as the toll on her mana deepened. The artificial sun continued to blaze above, casting stark shadows that only amplified her power.

Finally, she spotted Lady Selya at the periphery of the garden. The Matron was moving hastily toward the shelter of a crumbling archway, one hand raised to shield her eyes from the punishing light. Her once-regal attire was in tatters, and her composure had slipped into visible distress.

Elara's eyes narrowed. There you are.

Pulling strength from her core, she wove the threads of [Shadow Step] once more. Midnight-blue strands spiraled around her feet, rising swiftly to envelop her entire form. The shadows embraced her, and she vanished from sight, leaving only a faint ripple in the air.

In an instant, Elara reappeared beside Lady Selya, emerging from the shadows like a wraith. The Matron started, a gasp escaping her lips as she recoiled. But Elara gave no quarter. With a fluid motion, she swung [Quenya], invoking the [Technique: Starlit Inscription Slashing Arc]. Silver light flared along the blade's edge, inscribing luminous calligraphy through the air as it arced toward its target.

The ethereal symbols hung momentarily, their glow reflecting in Lady Selya's widened eyes. The attack sliced toward her with lethal intent. At the final instant, Lady Selya twisted aside, the blade narrowly missing her heart. [Quenya] grazed her shoulder, cutting through fabric and leaving a shallow wound that oozed crimson. The force of the near miss startled her, and she stumbled backward, eyes flashing with a mix of fear and fury.

Recovering swiftly, Lady Selya rolled backward, her movements fluid despite the chaos surrounding them. As she rose, she began weaving fiery orange threads between her fingers, the air crackling with electric energy. With a sharp gesture, she unleashed an electrified bolt that streaked toward Elara.

Elara barely had time to react before the bolt struck her squarely in the chest. A jolt of searing pain shot through her body, muscles seizing as the stunning energy coursed through her. The familiar sensation of being stunned enveloped her, limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Sensing an opportunity, Lady Selya pressed her advantage. She channeled more power, weaving intricate patterns of orange lightning that arced and sizzled around her hands. The air grew thick with the scent of ozone as she gathered the energy for a devastating strike. With a fierce cry, she directed a blazing lightning bolt straight at Elara.

The bolt struck Elara with unrelenting force. Sizzling electricity surged through her veins, every nerve ending ignited in excruciating pain. Her scream tore through the air, raw and involuntary, as the shock overwhelmed her senses. The intensity shattered her concentration on the miniature sun she had conjured. Above them, the radiant light flickered and then extinguished, plunging the battlefield back into the oppressive darkness of the Underdark.

As the artificial dawn vanished, the [Deep Dragon] roared triumphantly, its bellow echoing through the cavern and drowning out Elara's cries. The creature, no longer hindered by the blinding light, fixed its luminescent eyes on the scene below.

Elara collapsed to one knee, her body convulsing as sparks of electricity danced across her armor. Her breathing was ragged, each inhale sharp and painful. The taste of copper filled her mouth, and her vision blurred, dark spots encroaching at the edges. The electric agony coursed through her, muscles twitching uncontrollably, refusing to obey her commands.

The ground trembled beneath her as the [Deep Dragon] charged. The colossal beast barreled forward with terrifying speed, its massive form shaking the very earth. Elara looked up just in time to see the dragon's bulk bearing down on her.

The dragon slammed into her, the sheer force of its charge sending her tumbling backward. She hit the ground hard, the impact jolting through her already battered body. As she struggled to orient herself, the dragon's massive claw swept toward her. The talons raked across her chest, a screech of metal as they met the [Living Steel Chestplate]. The enchanted armor absorbed the brunt of the attack, its surface etched with deep grooves but holding firm. The protective armor shimmered faintly, dispersing some of the lethal energy.

Elara lay on the scorched earth, gasping for breath. Pain radiated through her entire body, but the immediate threat demanded action. Forcing herself to move, she rolled to the side just as the dragon's tail crashed down where she had been moments before, splintering the ground.

Her mind raced despite the haze of agony. The dragon's presence was both a danger and an unintended savior, having interrupted Lady Selya's lethal onslaught. Sparks of residual electricity still danced across her skin, the aftereffects of the lightning bolt leaving her muscles weak and uncooperative.

The [Deep Dragon] reared back, preparing for another strike. Its obsidian scales glinted menacingly in the dim light, and its maw opened to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. A low growl emanated from deep within its throat, vibrating the air with primal fury.

Lady Selya, regaining her composure, began to weave another spell, her hands moving swiftly to summon fiery orbs of energy. But the dragon's sudden aggression toward her forced her to split her attention. She cast a wary glance at the beast, hesitation flickering across her face.

The dragon lunged again, this time toward Lady Selya. Its massive claw swiped at the Matron, who barely managed to erect a shimmering orange barrier in time. The force of the blow shattered the shield, sending shockwaves rippling outward. Lady Selya was thrown backward, landing hard against the remnants of a stone pillar.

The dragon's interference had bought Elara precious seconds. Summoning her strength, she pushed herself to her feet. Every movement was a battle against the throbbing pain, but determination fueled her. She locked eyes with Lady Selya, who was struggling to rise amidst the rubble.

Elara knew she needed to create distance between herself, the [Deep Dragon], and Lady Selya. Summoning her waning energy, she darted away from them, her footsteps light despite the searing pain coursing through her body. As she moved, she began weaving the intricate patterns of [Shadow Clone]. Midnight-blue threads of shadow coalesced around her, swirling like ethereal mist. With a surge of will, two identical replicas split off from her form, each mirroring her every movement.

The three Elaras spread out, fanning across the battlefield. From a safe distance, she observed Lady Selya's eyes flicker with confusion as she tried to discern the real threat. The Matron's gaze darted between the clones, uncertainty etched across her face. But the [Deep Dragon], bound to its master, Lady Yathrin, was not so easily deceived. Its luminescent eyes locked onto the true Elara almost instantly, a low growl rumbling deep within its throat.

With a powerful beat of its massive wings, the dragon took to the air. Dust and debris swirled beneath it as it ascended, the force of the wind nearly knocking Elara off balance. The dragon climbed swiftly before angling into a steep dive, its colossal form hurtling toward her like a falling star. As it descended, the beast opened its maw, and a swirling mass of viridian and violet energies gathered within.

Elara braced herself as the dragon unleashed its breath weapon. A torrent of caustic spores engulfed her, the air thick with the acrid scent of decay. The spores clung to her armor and exposed skin, searing wherever they touched. She gritted her teeth against the stinging pain, but her heightened resistances dulled the worst of the effects. The psychic assault that accompanied the spores battered against her mind, but [Sanctuary of Learning] shielded her thoughts, repelling the intrusive whispers that sought to unnerve her.

Lady Selya observed the dragon's targeted attack with keen interest. A sly smile curved her lips as she realized which Elara was the genuine threat. "So that's the real one," she muttered, dismissing the remaining clones as mere phantoms. With renewed focus, she began weaving a complex spell. Vibrant orange lightning threads crackled to life between her fingers, the energy pulsating with lethal intent.

Ignoring the clones entirely, Lady Selya channeled the spell, her hands moving in precise, practiced motions. The air around her hummed with power as the threads intertwined, forming a serpentine chain of lightning that coiled and writhed like a living creature. With a sharp thrust of her hands, she sent the electrified chain screaming toward Elara.

Time seemed to dilate as [Cognizance] heightened Elara's awareness. The world around her slowed to a crawl, the flicker of flames became a languid waltz, and the distant sounds of battle faded into muffled echoes. She could see the chain lightning hurtling toward her, every jagged edge and forked tongue of electricity illuminated in stark detail. The spell cleaved through the air, leaving a trail of scorched ozone in its wake.

Drawing upon her inner reserves, Elara pivoted smoothly. Raising [Quenya], she channeled her will into the blade, its surface shimmering with a radiant glow. With pinpoint timing, she swung the sword in a wide arc, meeting the chain lightning head-on. The blade sliced through the magical construct, severing the intertwined threads of energy. An explosion of sparks erupted upon impact, the remnants of the spell dissipating into harmless motes of light that drifted away like fading embers.

Lady Selya's eyes widened in disbelief, her confident facade cracking. "Impossible!" she hissed, frustration seeping into her voice. Fury contorted her features as she began to weave another spell, her movements sharp and erratic. The orange threads around her hands grew thicker, more volatile, arcs of uncontrolled energy snapping at the air.

But before she could complete the incantation, a sudden, sharp sensation pierced her awareness. A cold blade pressed against her throat, its edge biting just enough to draw a thin line of blood. Lady Selya's hands froze, the fiery threads flickering out as her concentration shattered.

One of Elara's clones stood behind her, eyes devoid of mercy. In her hand was one of the knives Elara had previously wielded, now slick with crimson. The clone's grip was steady, the blade poised to deliver a final strike.

Lady Selya's breath caught in her throat. "How...?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The real Elara stepped forward, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Shadows can be more than mere illusions," she said calmly. "They can be quite tangible when needed."

Shock and rage warred within Lady Selya's eyes. She attempted to summon her magic once more, but the clone pressed the blade a fraction deeper, a silent warning that any movement could be her last.

"You underestimated me," Elara continued, her tone measured. "And now your machinations have come to an end."

Lady Selya's gaze flickered between Elara and the clone, desperation seeping into her expression. "This isn't over," she spat, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her fear.

Elara's eyes hardened. "Yes, it is."

With a swift motion, the clone drew the blade across Lady Selya's throat, the action precise and unhesitating. The Matron's eyes widened in shock, a hand flying to her neck as she staggered backward. Crimson blossomed between her fingers, the life draining from her with each ragged breath. She tried to speak, but no words came, only a strangled gasp as she collapsed to her knees.

The battlefield stilled for a moment after Lady Selya collapsed to the ground, her lifeblood spilling out as the flicker of life faded from her wide, disbelieving eyes. Elara stood above her, feeling a mix of exhaustion and grim satisfaction wash over her. The Matron was dead, her machinations shattered. But the heavy air still hummed with tension, and it was not over yet.

A deep, guttural roar tore through the silence, the sound vibrating in Elara's bones. The [Deep Dragon]’s massive form cast an ominous shadow over the battlefield as it hovered in the smoky air, its blazing eyes fixed squarely on Elara.

Elara barely had a moment to react before the [Deep Dragon] unleashed a second, vengeful roar, its massive wings flapping powerfully. The sound of it filled the air, a terrifying rumble that promised violence. Its eyes gleamed with hatred, its nostrils flaring as it bared its teeth.

"Dang it," Elara muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening around [Quenya]. She was already battered, her mana low after summoning the miniature sun and dispatching both Lady Yathrin and Selya, but she had no choice but to face this continued threat.