POV 1: DYUG AND MARY

The sea was quiet, but it was not the quiet of peace. It was the quiet of exhaustion, of steel and flesh ground down until there was nothing left to give. The battle was over—for now. The waves lapped against twisted wreckage, carrying the stench of oil, smoke, and charred wood alike.

On the deck of the Elven flagship, Prince Dyug von Forestia stirred, leaning heavily against the rail as if the weight of the ocean pressed down on his shoulders. His silver hair, once radiant, was matted with blood and salt. The Lunar glow that had shielded him through the fiercest exchanges flickered faintly around his form, but his spirit was frayed.

Mary, ever at his side, supported him without hesitation. Her gauntleted hand steadied his arm, her amber eyes fierce despite the ash smudging her cheek. Behind her, the Royal Knights formed a silent wall of discipline, their sun-crested helms gleaming dully beneath the grey sky. They had bled for their prince, and though their numbers were fewer, their loyalty was unshaken.

“The Goddess tests us yet,” Mary murmured again, her gaze fixed on the Gate shimmering across the waters. Its massive arch of light pulsed like a wound in reality, an invitation and a threat.

Dyug’s lips parted, his voice hoarse. “Tests… or condemns. We stand victorious only in fragments. Our ship endures, our banner still flies, but the price…” He trailed off, staring at the wounded Knights kneeling in prayer. He could hear the faint cries of dying elves below deck, mingling with the distant roar of human repair crews working frantically on their own ruined vessels.

Mary turned to him then, sharp, unwavering. “You live. That is the price worth paying. As long as you breathe, Prince Dyug, Forestia still has hope.”

His chest tightened at her words. Not only because of the truth within them, but because it was she—his forbidden love—who spoke them with such conviction. He wanted to believe. He needed to. For her.

POV 2: REINA MORALES – THE ROOSEVELT

Across the battered waters, aboard the USS Roosevelt, Commander Reina Morales stood in the dim glow of the chart room. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above her as she stared down at the map of the South Atlantic. Admiral Wallace sat hunched over, one hand pressed against his temple, the other clutching a mug of coffee gone cold.

The Roosevelt had survived, but barely. Entire compartments were flooded. The hangar reeked of jet fuel and smoke, and the wounded overflowed from the infirmary into converted storage rooms. Reina herself bore a shallow cut across her brow, hastily stitched, but her mind was far from her own pain.

She had seen them. The elf prince, bloodied but alive, standing on the deck of his flagship. And beside him, the golden-haired knight—Mary. Her eyes had met Reina’s across the gulf of sea and wreckage, if only for a heartbeat. It was not the look of a beaten foe, nor of a monster. It was the look of someone who had lost, endured, and still intended to fight again.

“They’ll be back,” Reina said quietly, her voice carrying through the silence.

Wallace exhaled through his nose, his eyes half-closed. “The Gate’s still open. As long as that damn thing glows, this isn’t over. Question is—who’s bleeding out first, us or them?”

Reina’s hand tightened into a fist on the table. She had no answer. Only the image of Mary’s unwavering eyes and Dyug’s weary defiance haunted her. She whispered under her breath: “Not monsters… not gods… just people. Dangerous people.”

POV 3: QUEEN ELARA – FORESTIA

Far away, across the void in the halls of silver marble, Queen Elara stood before the Astral Mirror. The great pool of moonlit water rippled with scenes half-clear, carried through the lingering threads of Lunar magic that bound her empire to her warriors.

She saw flashes—the clash of ships, the roar of human cannons, the fury of Dyug’s barrier as it strained against steel and fire. And then the quiet after. Dyug alive. Mary steadfast. The Gate still burning.

Her jaw tightened. “So he survives. Against humiliation, against failure, against the odds… he lives.”

Around her, High Elf nobles muttered in hushed tones. Some called for retreat, others for greater commitment of forces. But Elara silenced them with a raised hand.

“He has shown what none of you would have dared. He has faced the humans and lived. His survival is proof of Luna’s hand. Proof that this struggle is not yet lost.” Her eyes burned with conviction, though inside, she wrestled with the weight of every fallen elf.

Still, as she gazed deeper into the Mirror, her heart whispered what her lips could not. Dyug… my foolish, reckless prince. You carry more than your pride now. You carry the fate of Forestia’s rebirth.

POV 4: BACK TO DYUG AND MARY

The storm clouds drifted low over the sea, and the horizon glowed faintly with the Gate’s light. On the flagship, Dyug leaned against the mast, his strength slowly returning. Mary remained close, her presence as constant as the tide.

“Mary,” he said quietly, his voice laced with both weariness and longing. “Did you see them? The humans? Their eyes… they did not look at us with fear. They looked at us as equals.”

She nodded, recalling the fleeting moment her gaze had locked with Reina Morales. “Yes. And that makes them more dangerous than we believed. They will not break easily.”

Dyug exhaled slowly, the weight of that truth pressing into him. Yet, in the midst of despair, he felt something else. A spark. A challenge. “Then we will not break either. If Luna wills it, if my Queen commands it… we fight until the sea itself rejects us.”

Mary’s hand found his, armored fingers interlacing with his trembling ones. It was a forbidden touch, hidden behind the veneer of loyalty and service, but it was real. “Together, my prince. Always.”

The two of them stood there, silhouetted by the dying sun and the Gate’s eternal glow, as the fleets—human and elven alike—licked their wounds and prepared for what would come next.

For the storm was far from over. And both sides knew the next clash would not be a skirmish, but a reckoning.