I breathe in deeply. Finally, something I can do. I clamber to my feet with his help and turn to Lyra Aumrauth.

I’m not quite sure how to start up a conversation. She did just nearly kill Adamar, I suppose I could start with that. That feels rather awkward, but I don’t really have time to think about that sort of thing right now. The important bit is to distract her, keep her from trying to kill anyone else.

“Why resort to lethal methods so quickly? I thought you were against killing.” I begin.

“It’s not like I have any other option now.” Lyra says briefly “Also, I wasn’t expecting the lightning to be that explosive. I must be more angry at you all then I thought.” She tosses a bolt of purple flames at me, I dodge easily.

“I didn’t realize spells could be linked to emotion. Is that only for attack spells? And you could have just knocked him out.”

“I was trying to knock him out, and maybe set his hair on fire. Did you think I wanted his head to explode like that wall? Also, why are you so interested in learning magic theory? You’ll never be able to use it. It’s useless for you to even try.” I open my mouth to reply, but she cuts in again. “And don’t spout some nonsense about being better able to understand everyone. I hate that sort of baloney.”

I blink at her. “That’s my father’s line, I have a much more selfish reason.”

“What is it?” she looks slightly curious, and then shakes her head, refocusing to prep another firebolt.

“Curiosity.” I say blandly. She gapes at me and misfires. The firebolt flies off somewhere to my left.

“That’s it?” She says.

“Yeah, magic theory is a hobby of mine. What did you think it would be?” I’m grinning inside, her astonishment is amusing. She’s rather rude though.

“I don’t know. Something stupid.” She begins to circle, and I mirror her movements.

“Well was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Something stupid?” I ask.

Lyra chuckles slightly, “Kinda” she says, and I allow a smile to slip out. Maybe I can negotiate with her to call off her Aberration after all. Then she frowns though. “Ugh, why do you have to be so likable? It's distracting, You’re not supposed to be funny. It’s your fault Ryfon died after all. Which I suppose means it’s also your fault that your friends and you are in this position. So if any of you die, don’t blame me.”

“Wait, how is Ryfon being dead my fault? If my memories are correct, I’ve never killed another Elf and I’ve been in prison for the last twenty-two years.” I say.

“Oh stop it with the holier-than-thou attitude.” Lyra replies coldly. “You might have been in prison at the time, but you and your family are the reason Ryfon is dead. If it hadn’t been for your policies, your mistakes, your war, my boyfriend wouldn’t have died!” She ends her sentence with a shout. I feel my temper surge, and an urge to defend my parents decision. I squash it though, that won’t help here. I need to gain more information.

“And how does that make us being in this position also my fault?” I ask, coldly. I guess joking time is over.

“Well, if you hadn’t killed Ryfon, I wouldn’t have had to try and raise him from the dead. Ergo we wouldn’t even be in this position. Also, I assume your friends are here because you encouraged them to save that idealistic idiot Valkallyn. In fact I’d be willing to bet that you were a key reason they even got this far.”

“You flatter me, I’ve barely done anything to help this entire time. Remember, I can’t use magic, and I don’t have a weapon. All in all, I’m not a very useful person.” Perhaps I shouldn’t have reminded her of my defenselessness, since she hurls another spell at me. I don’t pay attention to what it is, I just dodge on instinct.

“True, but you do have a brain, which is more than most of the morons in your group.”

“I didn’t add anything to our conversations that Adamar couldn’t have thought of,” I say.

“Don’t be modest, it doesn’t suit you, and it only makes me want to kill you more.” Lyra switches the direction she is circling in, and I match again. It almost feels like we are fencing with words.

“I’m not being modest, just truthful.” I say. “I’ve felt a bit down recently because I can’t do anything to help out.” I’m not quite sure why I’m opening up to her about this. Perhaps it’s because I don’t want my friends to hear me complain when most of them have worse problems right now? Ugh, how pathetic of me.

Lyra glares at me. “I don’t want to hear your life story. Trying to make me feel sympathy for you won’t work, so you and your ‘poor little rich boy problems’ mean nothing to me. You are a monster who deserves to die for what you’ve done. Nothing you can say will change that.”

“We barely know each other. How can you claim I’m a monster when you don’t even know me?” I protest.

“I don’t need to know you! I realized the whole royal family were monsters on the day Ryfon died.” Lyra glares at me stubbornly. I glare back. This girl is being totally unreasonable. I don’t really care if she thinks I’m a monster, but she’s constantly been attacking my parents, who have done nothing but try to help this country. They don’t deserve her slander. I think it’s time to do more than just parry her words. It’s time for a riposte.

“Well if I’m a monster because a member of my family made a mistake, then you are at least as bad a monster as I am. After all, you have killed countless innocent creatures, and you put my friend in a coma, for a hypothesis. I’m just related to somebody.” Lyra blinks, shocked. I suppose she didn’t think about it that way. Her logic is a double edged weapon which can be used against her easily, and seems to hit home more than anything else I’ve said so far.

“I-I only killed a couple by mistake.” She stutters, as if trying to reject my logic.

Her attempted denial is weak. I smile viciously and pounce on it. “Not just a couple, You are killing them all, the animals die earlier than they would normally have, because of you. You're draining them of their lifeforce until they are nearly dead. Nobody and nothing can recover from that. With every pet or person that you place in a coma you are dooming them to a life measured in days. And then, to spare your conscience, you wake them up, bring them back to a life full of pain and suffering, and you don’t even let them go home. You may have convinced yourself that that isn’t killing them, but it is actually worse, you are torturing them as they die, to spare your own twisted conscience and your boyfriend’s sanity.”

I briefly wonder if I’m being a little too cruel to Lyra. Then I quash the feeling. She didn’t show me or my friends any kindness. She probably wants to kill me more now, but at least she is listening and taking me seriously. I remember how she slandered my parents, and add one more cruel comment to my attack. “I wonder what your boyfriend will think when, or should I say if, he comes back to the monster you are and you’ve forced him to be. He probably won’t even recognise you at first, and then wish he had stayed dead instead of coming back to life at such a cost.”

Lyra stares at me, shocked by my harshness. I feel rather empty, like I’ve lost my anger. I’ve said what I wanted to say to her. I suppose all that's left is to distract her here so that she can’t join the real fight. Behind her, the battle is still going, and it isn’t going well. Adamar and Folas can’t seem to contain the Aberration, and Briareth still hasn’t arrived with help. My attention snaps back to Lyra as she begins flinging more complex spells at me.

“You know nothing of Ryfon!” She screams at me, finally out of her shock. I barely dodge a green image of a dragon. “You know nothing of me! I’m not a monster! I’m not killing animals or people! But if I were to start, you'd be on top of the list!” In the background I see the Aberration hit Adamar in the legs with a swing of a massive branch. Adamar collapses, hollering in agony.

I can’t keep dodging Lyra’s spells, but she doesn’t seem tired at all. I glare at her, wondering how much strength she could possibly have left. She’s been shooting off complex spells left and right; she can’t keep this up. Another of those weird dragon images blasts at me, this one golden. I dodge again, jumping left to avoid it. Slipping on a small stone in a dip in the ground I hadn’t accounted for, I tumble, landing flat on my back.

I know I won’t be able to get back up in time, but still I scramble to regain my footing as Lyra stalks towards me. She looks like a cat who’s finally cornered a mouse, and now wants to play with it.

“Wow, now your about to die because of a stupid mistake. How do you feel?”

“Could have happened to anyone.” I spit out at her.

“Maybe if you beg, I’ll let you live. Or kill you with less pain, depends on how sincere you are.” She puts her foot on my chest pinning me to the ground.

I shoot her a withering look and spit out my reply. “You know, between you and your Aberration boyfriend, the more ethical one is the undead drooling beast. If that comparison is too much for your primitive mind to bear, the simple answer to your offer is NO.”

Lyra snarls and prepares a spell. “You annoy me too much for your own good Mr. Mithrandir. Your death is going to hurt, and I’ll enjoy it.” I glare at her defiantly. If I’m going to die here because of an unlucky rock, then at least I’ll die staring my enemy in the face. Maybe in the time Lyra takes to kill me, Briareth will arrive with the Masters in tow.

Suddenly, Lyra topples over, and falls to the ground, unconscious. I suspect interference, and Adamar’s shout confirms it.

“That’s for my bug, the Brainshock, and trying to snipe me earlier you gorgon!” Adamar crows from his collapsed position.

“Thanks for that, Adamar!” I call over to him, clambering to my feet.

“My pleasure!” Adamar calls back. I grin, and then am distracted by a nearby screetch. It is the Aberration, Ryfon Narebeth. Its hands contort into claw-like shapes, and it tears at its long, matted, hair. Dropping to its knees, it roars at the sky.

“Perhaps by defeating his mistress, we have beaten him as well?” Folas says hopefully, as I jog over to join them. The Aberration’s eyes start glowing red. “Or not.” Folas adds on.

“Adamar, can you get up?” I ask hurriedly, glancing at the Aberration.

“No, I think my leg is broken.” Adamar says through gritted teeth. “Even trying to move is excruciating. I don’t want to try putting any weight on it.”

“Can you block it’s attacks somehow?”

“No,” Adamar hisses through the pain. “All my shields are useless against it. If it attacks me, Faladel, I’m dead.”

“We’ll just have to divert its attention then.” I say, frowning.

“Faladel!” Folas calls, “It’s stopped screaming. Is that good or bad?!” I glance at the Aberration. Folas is right. I was too worried about Adamar to notice earlier, but most of the noise is gone. The Aberration has stopped screetching. It’s still on its knees, its hands still clutch at its hair, its eyes still glow in the darkness, but now they reflect on tears streaming down its cheeks. I wonder if it understands what just happened.

I silently hope it doesn’t, and not just because it might want revenge. Somewhere deep inside me, a selfish part of me that I will never reveal, just doesn’t want hurting a formerly noble Elf warrior on my conscience. I wonder, what sort of person does that make me? Certainly not one fit to be King.

Suddenly, as I watch, the Aberration stands back up, and turns towards us. As it comes closer, I’m frozen with hesitation. Should I attack? But with what? Adamar isn’t making a sound. Perhaps he doesn’t want to be noticed? Or he might have passed out from the pain... I don’t dare take my eyes off the Aberration to check.

It walks right by us and I breathe a silent sigh of relief. Picking up it’s stick from before, it goes past us again and starts attacking the greenhouse. Stick swinging like a bat, it sends glass shards flying.

“Hey!” Folas shouts at it. “You can’t do that! Master Cellica will be really mad!” The Aberration doesn’t seem to hear his protests, smashing the greenhouse more violently with each swing. Folas flings yet another bolt of fire at the Aberration and yells “Hey!”

This catches the Aberration’s attention, and he turns to Folas, eyes glowing, mouth split in a psychotic grin. It snarls at him, and swings the branch in his direction. This is much faster than his other attacks were, and Folas barely manages to jump out of range. Then the Aberration, instead of going back to its former destruction, chases him around the greenhouse.

“A little help here Faladel, Adamar?!” Folas screams as he completes a full circle around the greenhouse.

“Adamar’s broken his leg, and I can’t attack! What do you want us to do?!” I call back.

“I don’t know!” Folas says, leaping out of the way of another wild swing. “Anything! Cause a distraction or something! Just do it quickly! I can’t keep up this speed!”

I get up from next to Adamar, and glance down at him. He didn’t pass out, which is good I suppose, but he needs help, sweat is trickling down his face in tiny rivers. I don’t know much about medicine, but that probably isn’t good.

“Are-are you going to be okay?” I ask him hesitantly.

“It’s not like you being here will make a difference Faladel.” He says, gasping. “Right now Folas needs you more than I do.”

“True.” I say, I still feel uncomfortable leaving him here though, and hesitate.

“Faladel please!” Folas calls out panting as he laps the greenhouse again. “I wasn’t built for cross country racing!”

His plea snaps my brain back to logic. I can’t do anything here, but I could help Folas. As Folas and the Aberration come around again, I throw a stone at it. Hard. Turns out my aim is pretty accurate. It hits the Aberration square between the eyes, and he turns in my direction as I begin to run. Folas stumbles over to Adamar, and collapses on the ground next to him sucking in air.

I try to focus more on dodging and not letting it get close than on running. Eventually, Folas tries to attack it again, and it goes after him. This continues for a while. The Aberration doesn’t seem to ever become out of breath, bleed, or need a break. Folas and Adamar even try a couple restraining spells on it, but they don’t seem to have any ill effects. Instead of helping us the spells only cause the Aberration to turn its attention to Adamar and Folas has to distract it with another stone.

Eventually, I collapse next to Adamar as Folas and the Aberration run circles around the ruined greenhouse.

“What do we do? We can’t defeat it or restrain it.” I say to Adamar, panting.

“We wait, and make a lot of noise and light. Eventually Briareth will arrive with backup, or one of the Masters will take notice. It’s not like there is much else we can do at this point.”

“But what if they don’t arrive in time?”

“They have to, or we're dead.” Adamar says flatly. He leans back, lifts up an arm, and shoots a red fireball into the air.

“What was that for?” I ask as it fizzles out somewhere above our heads.

“It’s my own version of a flare.” Is all Adamar says in reply.