Fighting Ilsa & Andrew & Filia to Escape Osrona

Lloyd continued to fight against it, but it just wasn't enough. He was whiplashed and knocked aside by his own King, and he laid on the ground broken and defeated, his fate more dangerous than ever.

A sliver of blood leaves his mouth as he weakly peers up at the others. There was no hope until, finally--

His people rose.

They would fight.

Fight for what was right. He could not save Marie, but in order to save the others, they would fight now more than ever. To save their King. To save themselves. To protect their home and their righteous beliefs.

He is once again reminded that in times of dire need, even he, his people - they will fight for what was right.

".. Stop .. her. We .. have to."
(Lloyd Durages)
It was worse than any of them could imagine.

At the end of her close battle with the Mad King of Esshar, Ilsa found herself badly beaten. Bruised and bloody in a way that she had not been since her first bout in the field of war.

Her vision was blurry - stained by both her blood and that which the powerful witch Nebula made rain down from the sky. And yet, even as Lloyd was bested in combat, she moved forward.

Fearing the inevitable. The death of her other half at the hands of the wicked powers that be.

Alexander had fallen victim to the might of Witchcraft - he was no longer himself. But he could be freed. Fixed. Or so the Soleis bloodline believed. She staggers forward as far as she could with vision through her only open golden eye... just in time to see Marie's heart be torn free from her frame and her body lit ablaze.

In that same moment, she could feel her own being tugged at. Jerked and shredded beneath her breast and chestplate. The pain shoots through her entire frame, and she collapses to a knee - lightning fizzling out around her.

She had dedicated her life to the Petrakis line from the day Serea had taken her in. She had given her love to them in the same vein, with Marie being at the top of that totem pole.

Memories begin to rush back to the front of her mind, and an all but crippled hand reaches out to clutch the bloody dirt and pull her frame but a few inches closer to the site of Marie's lifeless frame, which was being claimed by Helheim itself.

Tiernay had accused her of being hungry for something, all those years ago. And he was right. But just when she had finally found that 'meal' to enjoy the fulfillment it would offer if they survived the war... it was taken from her again.

Marie ras Petrakis was gone from the realm of the living and sent to the stars above to watch down over them.

The reality of it sinks in for some time as Elesius rallied their troops to the cause of freeing their leader. The very same one that had taken the only person aside from her brothers in the Aegis that she truly loved.

Osrona's Radiant Stormbringer remains there on the ground for some time - defeated entirely.

Only to slowly rise back to her feet and forcefully through her disheveled hair out of her face.

"We all have a job to do. An oath to protect the Crown." Her words were clear, despite the heartbreak present on her features and tears flowling freely from her eyes.

"We will free the King, and eradicate any trace of the Elysium Cult."

She had made her decision. One Marie could hopefully be proud of.
(Ilsa lux Ambrose)
Andrew had trust his entire life to Alexander. Everything that he ever knew was slowly unmaking itself, before his own two eyes, with the king having fallen for the nightmarish influence of a witch. Cosmic glimmer shone through his body, a glimpse seeing itself through the Radiant's spirit.

He needed to honor his duty. But -how-, if they had just killed one more of their own. If there were so many that dared to stand against him, then Andrew knew what his final duty would be. He knew that he couldn't just stand on the sidelines, and not protect the king that he so much cared for.

There were guards, magi and knights who still obeyed the order of their radiants, and to that he needed to call them. He had made an oath, one that should be kept true even with his own life if it cost this much. The sword was pulled from his side, exposed in thin air while covered in the same cosmic light of others.

His target? It was Nebula.

"Break the hex! Get the witch!
Fight for a better tomorrow, Osrona!

It is time to defend your city, to honor your oath as brothers and sisters of the First Light!
As citizens of the kingdom of Esshar!"

He was going to protect the King, no matter the cost- But his duties weren't shared to the queen, which Andrew quickly rose to combat alongside others.
(Andrew Lancaster)
Marie Petrakis was dead.

And for once, despite the angry mob that surrounded the witch, Nebula felt happy. Calm. At peace. It's been too long. Too long since she allowed herself to act the way she wanted to. The way she desired.

Marie's body drops as the heart is stolen from her, taken by a tendril that continued to hold onto it. A memory of the woman. Or perhaps it was meant to be used for something far more sinister. No one would know except for Nebula herself.

The rain of blood continues. Her hand gestures for Alexander to move closer, a nod offered to him. "They are all yours to deal with, my love."

She was no fool, of course - she expected some to slip by and pursue her still. But he'd deal with enough people for Nebula, until he falls.

Another breath is drawn before the witch turns away.
An attempt at fleeing.
(Nebula Lockwood)
It is a fierce battle that she fights in. Yet another one-- yet another one where she has to deal with someone who is livid at her actions. Upset. Angry. Unable to accept them.

And Ilsa knows these feelings to be true more than most.

More than anyone else here.

Nebula murdered her lover, did she not?

The tendrils of blood reach the woman - just as they did with Marie - and they restrain her in place. Just as another tendrils impaled their abdomen, in the same fashion that Nebula forced Marie to suffer.

"Enough."

"Leave."

"You have a wife to mourn."

Ilsa is tossed away afterwards, like a doll that the Lockwood was finished playing with.

..Here comes the next challenger.
(Nebula Lockwood)
She was in no shape to fight. And yet, she charged forth anyway, hardly able to wield her blade.

Swinging with what strength she could muster, and using the speed the remainder of her magic could afford her.

In the end, the Witch prevails.

The Radiant finds herself bleeding out from the impalement, her heart now stinging and her psyche suffering in more ways than one.

And yet, she remains there this time.

Staring up at the sky above and coughing blood from her lungs as the sun sets on an otherwise beautiful day and Leonaus' stars take over to watch down on those beneath them.
(Ilsa lux Ambrose)
The next challenger was, rather obviously, the king's personal retainer- And a Radiant, even if one that was rarely ever present in the war. Loyal to the bone, Andrew could not assimilate that his king would betray of their own will.

No, he was under the effects of witchcraft all along. He dashes through a flicker of light, standing right in front of Nebula. He didn't want for her to leave- Nay, he wouldn't allow for her to leave while he drew breath.

The sun peeked through the clouds, lighting up the radiant's sword, clearing his mind of worries and covering his body in an aura of golden energy.

He was at his peak, or close enough to that. "I will not allow you to destroy the Petrakis' legacy like that, Nebula."
(Andrew Lancaster)
Tendrils slap him away from the witch.

Vines restrict his movements wherever they can.

Andrew Lancaster is outmatched, of course-- but it's to no surprise. The witch was about as high as a human possibly can be. No, it isn't a drug. Occult Madness hasn't taken over her mind either. It's the thrill of the battle-- the fact she knows that death can reach her any moment now. The fact each Knight's sword reaches closer to her neck.

And throughout it all, she smiles.

Was it possible for her not to smile in a day like this?

She intended to celebrate as soon as this was over.

"Go. Tend to my husband's injuries."
(Nebula Lockwood)
Andrew's efforts were insignificant- Even when he managed to obtain a modicum of advantage, it was merely a trick of the light, quite literally. How could he fail in such an important moment, where he should have nothing but simple victory accepted in the end.

The sun, his marvelous source of power, had betrayed him. He finally collapses over, onto the ground, specks of blood falling down into it- Causing the broken radiant to stare catatonically at the result.

A loud yell of agony emanated from him- He was defeated, and there wasn't much more for him to do.
(Andrew Lancaster)
 For each tidal wave that Filla conjures against the witch - an equally sized wave of blood rises to meet it.

The rain of blood only empowers Nebula. With each passing moment, more and more blood collects. More and more sources for her to use and abuse against the knights and keepers who choose to stand in her way. "Filla- Move. This is not your battle. You are making a mistake." The last of those waves sends the cosmic-magi away from Nebula. It allows the witch to suck a breath through tight teeth and look at the many capable warriors who were still there.

To challenge her, to fight her, to kill her.

It was time to retreat. She knew this-- but how?

The answer is right under her nose. No, under her feet. Where the blood from the rain collected.

"It is not the end, Osrona. Marie... Was one woman. Holding grudges-- it's truly a sin, is it not?"

It appears as if the witch prepared one final wave of blood-- a tsunami of sorts. But it's a distraction. Before it can reach anyone, before it can hurt a person - it vaporizes. It masks the battlefield and obscures the sights of many.

..And it promotes her to escape, while she still can. While they are unable to stop her.

It was all she could muster - and it will have to do.
(Nebula Lockwood)
Billowing waves crash, one of translucency, the other of thick red ichor smothering all within its wake.

Including Filia.

Her fingers fumbled for a string, but it was not present - it was then that she realized her blunder: her weapon was not on her person. And so she struggled, writhed like frightened prey in whatever manner she could to place distance between them.

No words are spared, as none could be spoken. Betrayal was what twisted her heart and galvanized further action; starlight in abundance, water that falls but cannot wash away the blood.

Every scattered droplet seethed against her skin and stifled her senses, up until the pinnacle of their bout, wherein baneful flecks of claret swallow the air and submerge their vicinities entirely.

Much like the blood that inundated the atmosphere, so too did failure deluge her cognizance.
(Filia)