— LEONIA!
His voice shattered the silence like thunder.
So powerful that the snow itself trembled.
So profound that even the corpses seemed to stir.
The cry of a king.
A father.
A man who had witnessed far too much death...
and had never learned to accept it.
The knight did not answer.
He dropped to one knee beside her.
The force of his weight drove a crater into the snow.
His hand immediately found her neck.
Cold.
Her blood was still warm.
A stubborn stream continued to flow from the wound in her jugular.
But her pulse...
No.
He searched again.
Her wrist.
Her chest.
Every place where life should have thundered like a warrior's drum.
Nothing.
The silence within her was louder than the roar of a thousand battlefields.
Then the medallion caught his eye.
Resting beside her fingers.
Like a final offering.
He recognized it before he even reached for it.
Elizabeth's pendant.
The little silver moon that had always rested against his daughter's neck.
A white wolf standing in a field of crimson camellias.
A griffin soaring above.
Samael slowly closed his fingers around the small silver moon.
The metal still held a trace of warmth.
As though Elizabeth's soul still lingered there.
Refusing to abandon the warrior who had died protecting her.
The king lowered his gaze to Leonia once more.
There was peace upon her face.
Not happiness.
Peace.
The peace of one who had died believing she had fulfilled her oath.
The peace of one who no longer had to fight.
The peace of one who had given everything.
Blood.
Flesh.
Soul.
And regretted none of it.
Leonia's left hand remained tightly closed.
Samael gently unfolded her fingers.
Inside lay a lock of black hair.
Elizabeth's hair.
Torn free during the battle.
The knight had kept it.
Like a relic.
Like a promise.
Like the final thread of hope.
Then he saw them.
The bodies.
Dozens of them before the mouth of the cave.
Their positions.
They had not been trying to leave the cavern.
They had been trying to enter it.
Leonia had not died in retreat.
She had died defending that passage.
Alone.
Against an army.
Until her final strike.
Until her final breath.
Until the last beat of her heart.
Every corpse bore witness to her courage.
Every severed limb stood as a tribute to her fury.
Every drop of blood staining the snow was another page in her epic.
Samael bowed his head.
For a single moment.
Brief.
Solemn.
Long enough to honor a warrior who deserved more than any king could ever grant.
— You fulfilled your oath, Daughter of the Moon.
His voice was low.
Ragged.
Like the wind that whispers over forgotten graves.
— May the gods receive you with honor. May the darkness be gentle to you. May the Moon claim you among her bravest daughters.
Then he rose.
The medallion remained clasped in his hand.
An anchor.
A promise.
A blood debt he would repay with the life of anyone who dared lay a hand upon his daughter.
His gaze settled on the darkness within the cave.
Cold.
Deep.
Silent.
But something remained.
A scent.
Almost gone.
Nearly swallowed by blood.
Forbidden magic.
Death.
Despair.
Lavender.
And scorched wood.
Elizabeth.
Faint.
Little more than the ghost of a fragrance.
But it was there.
She had entered this cavern.
Or she was still within it.
Samael slowly drew Leonia's sword from the snow.
The blade emerged heavy, coated in the blood of dozens of enemies.
A frozen river of vengeance and grief.
He held it for a moment.
Feeling the weight of battle.
Of loss.
Of legacy.
— Your oath ends here.
He spoke softly, looking at the fallen knight whose body was already disappearing beneath the veil of falling snow.
— Mine... does not.
Then he turned toward the mouth of the cavern.
The darkness seemed to breathe in answer.
A freezing exhalation carrying echoes of ancient laughter.
Broken promises.
Forgotten gods.
And the Lycan King walked alone into the depths of the Forest of the Three Suns, carrying with him only two certainties.
His daughter had left a trail.
And whoever waited within those shadows...
Whether man.
Beast.
Or fallen god.
Would learn that night why the ancients called Samael the King Before Whom Even Death Learned to Retreat.
The snowfall grew heavier.
Covering the bodies.
Covering the blood.
Covering Leonia like a white shroud.
But within the cavern...
The darkness was not the only thing that stirred.
Something older than Samael.
Older than the bloodline.
Older than the forest itself.
Had awakened.
And it was hungry.