CHAPTER 48: LLOYD V. ISOBEL I

Everything was black. Lyra had warned me this would happen, but the suddenness of Isobel’s Blindness spell still somehow managed to throw me for a loop. Unwilling to venture out into the illusive dark, I stood sentinel in the ground, burying my feet into the dirt as I unsheathed my sword, guarding against whatever Isobel planned to follow up with.

It wasn’t long before I got my answer in the form of Lyra’s distant grunts and the many that followed. Clones. Lyra was fighting against a litany of Isobel clones, and it wasn’t long before they made their way to–

"Die!" Isobel shouted from ahead of me. Despite the direction of the words, the distinct pitter-patter of footsteps in dirt came from behind me.

I pivoted on my heel, and swung low. My blade sliced through empty air at first before finally connecting with the copy. A shrill cry mixed with the clang of metal before suddenly, abruptly, phasing through the metal as if it wasn’t there. Awkward, but efficient. I’d readjust..

"Not bad, Lloyd," Isobel’s voice called from beside me, smooth and teasing. "But you’ll need more than swings in the dark."

Another approached from ahead, the faint jingle of silver plating giving it away. I spun, thrusting my blade at the approaching enemy. Metal rang against metal as my blade caught something solid. I’d pierced the clone’s stomach, I figured. I followed with a thrust, feeling the resistance of a body giving way. It dissipated in a puff of illusory smoke, the scent of ozone permeating the air. Two gone. Sweat beaded on my forehead, my breaths coming steady but quick.

The air shifted again, warmer this time, carrying a hint of leather and sweat. To my right. I dodged left on instinct, hearing the whoosh of a blade missing my ear by inches. Close. Too close. I countered with an upward slash, guided by the follow-through sound of her swing. My blade bit into flesh, or what felt like it, followed by a sharp, feminine cry. The body slumped against me before vanishing, before again fading to mist. Three.

Isobel’s laugh floated over, light but edged. "Impressive! Hiring you as my Paladin may be the best decision I ever make for the new House Greaves."

The last clone came fast, from the front. Heavy steps, deliberate. I raised my sword high, ready for the overhead strike I knew was coming. But it feinted to the right. I adjusted, swinging wide. Nothing. Then pain exploded in my side as a dagger grazed my ribs, drawing blood through my leathers. I roared, pivoting blindly and swinging my sword around in a wide arc. The flat of it connected hard, crunching bone. The clone staggered, and I drove my sword home, twisting. It burst into mist, the fourth one down.

Panting, I stood there, sword dripping illusory essence onto the floor. The blindness lingered, a heavy veil. "Is that all?" I called out, voice rough but steady.

Her response was closer now, heels clicking. "You should know better than to assume that’s all I have in stor for you, Lloyd May."

The spell faded along with her words, eyes straining as with the sudden burst of light. The battlefield once again appeared before me: statues of Greaves heroes overlooking the battle, Mr. Shaw and his niece watching from the sidelines, and, sprawled at my feet... Lyra?

My stomach dropped. Her body lay twisted, leathers torn, sparse silver plating dented over her chest and thighs. Blood pooled from a wound in her neck. Her face, pale and still, stared up with those familiar golden eyes, empty now.

No... Something was off. No wisps of golden aura, no smug "I’m totally gonna undo all of this" smile on her face.. If this was real Lyra, she’d never have allowed herself to get put in a situation like this. Recognizing this as an illusion, I stepped kicked the body away, unsurprised when it faded to mist.

"How heartless," Isobel chided from behind me. I turned to find her right there, blood speckling her face. She had a rapier in her hand now, which too was dripping with blood.

"That isn’t the real Lyra. I have no reason to show it mercy. Besides, Lyra wouldn’t lose to you."

"You sure?" Isobel smiled, gesturing her rapier. "Because this isn’t my blood on this ceremonial blade, you know."

There were no traces of illusory aura coming from this Isobel. This was the real one. Was she lying? Was I willing to risk looking over to the stands to conf–

"Sorry, Lloyd," A voice called from the distance, in the direction of Mr. Shaw and Mileena. "My head wasn’t in the game. It’s up to you!"

Goddamn it.

She smiled, victorious yet focused, drawing a slender rapier that hummed with arcane energy. "I’m glad things worked out this way. I think it’s important this battle be between the two of us.

"You know what? So am I. It feels poetic."

"What a romantic."

"It’s because I know what this battle means for you. It isn’t just about House Greaves. It’s... everything. Your love, your passion, your anxiety, your fear. It’s all here. I think it’s only right that I be the one to take all of that on, Isobel. Wouldn’t you say?"

Her smile faded, eyes more resolute than ever. She gripped her blade tighter, face contorting into something resembling anger, but not as intense. "I’m House Greaves’ final defender. I... I cannot lose to you, love...!"

"I know you can’t," I noted, readying my stance and tightening the grip on my own blade. "But neither can I. My love for Aspia is just as strong as your love for this House. I can’t lose this opportunity to you, Isobel."

Aura surged around Isobel as she readied her stance in response. "Save your honeyed words, Lloyd May. I have no need to prove my loyalties to this House. It is mine. It was mine the moment I was born, and it was mine when Alexander Greaves himself groomed me to be its rightful leader. As the current Lady of House Greaves, I refuse to let this House fall to you!"