The Monarch Returns

Blood And Broken Walls

Just after Jason was sent out of the city, Commander Eric kicked the door open with a crash. Sword already drawn, he swept into the room like a storm. His eyes scanned every corner, every shadow, searching for the prince. The space was empty save for one figure.

Queen Jeanie stood alone in the center of the chamber, calm and unhurried. A faint smile touched her lips as she regarded the man who had come for her son.

“Looking for something?” she asked, voice soft yet edged with quiet amusement.

Eric’s frown deepened. “The prince. Where are you hiding him?”

“Somewhere you and your kind will never reach,” she answered, taking a single deliberate step forward.

Eric raised his blade a fraction higher. “You know how this ends. Surrender. Spare yourself the pain.”

Jeanie’s smile never faded. “A generous offer, Commander. But I must decline. My son is waiting for me.”

She moved.

In a blur of motion she closed the distance, robes swirling around her. Eric reacted on instinct, swinging his sword in a wide, horizontal arc. The blade left a trail of compressed energy that howled through the air. Jeanie twisted aside at the last possible instant. The s***h screamed past her shoulder and punched straight through the far wall as though the stone were paper. A thunderous explosion followed a heartbeat later, shattering the outer wall and sending rubble raining into the street below.

Jeanie did not pause. Her palm shot forward, striking Eric squarely in the chest. The impact cracked like a whip. The commander staggered back several heavy steps, boots scraping across the floorboards. Blood flecked the corner of his mouth.

Outside, the city had gone still. Citizens and guards alike turned toward the ruined inn as the boom rolled across the rooftops. Dust and smoke poured from the gaping hole in the upper floor. Two figures could be seen locked in combat within the wreckage—one in the dark uniform of a Higher Heaven commander, the other a woman whose presence alone made the air feel heavy.

“Commander Eric has found her,” one of the city guards muttered, already moving.

The rest of the detachment rushed toward the inn and formed a loose perimeter, weapons half-drawn, eyes wide. City protectors arrived moments later. Most of them stopped short, legs unsteady. The raw force radiating from the duel was enough to make seasoned fighters hesitate.

“This is beyond us,” one protector said under his breath. “The city isn’t built to contain power like that.”

“Should we try to stop them?” another asked, voice thin.

Their leader shot him a flat look. “You’re welcome to walk up there and ask politely. Just make sure you can still speak after the first exchange.”

“So we simply watch while they tear the place apart?”

The leader exhaled slowly. “They’re stronger than anything we can field. Standing clear and praying for a swift end is the only choice left to us.”

Inside the ruined room the battle continued without pause. Blow after blow landed with bone-jarring force. Walls collapsed. Floorboards split. Energy flared and died in rapid succession. Neither combatant gave ground easily. For long minutes they seemed evenly matched—Eric’s disciplined swordsmanship against the queen’s raw, precise ferocity.

At last Eric realized he could not finish it alone. He barked a sharp command. The waiting guards flooded the chamber. Numbers turned the tide. Jeanie fought on, but the weight of bodies and blades slowly pressed her down. One guard lost a hand to a desperate counter. Others staggered away with deep cuts and cracked ribs. Eric himself took a vicious strike across the ribs that left a long, bleeding gash and a dark stain at the corner of his mouth.

When the dust finally settled, Queen Jeanie lay on the broken floor, chest rising and falling in shallow, labored breaths. Her once-elegant robes were dark with blood. Her hair hung in tangled strands across her face. She managed one last whisper before unconsciousness claimed her.

“I’m sorry, Jason… I won’t be there for you.”

The surviving guards sagged against walls and rubble, breathing hard. One of them wiped sweat and dust from his brow and gave a shaky laugh.

“Who would have thought bringing the queen to heel would cost us this much? Good thing the commander was here. Without him none of us would be walking away.”

Eric ignored the comment. He stepped over the debris, knelt, and lifted Jeanie’s limp form with one arm. Blood still seeped from the wound in his side, but his voice remained iron.

“There is no time to waste. We return to the Higher Heaven. Now.”

One of the more battered guards straightened with difficulty. “Commander… we’re spent. The wounded need tending. A short rest—”

Eric’s eyes flashed bloodshot and cold. He turned fully toward the speaker.

“You may stay and recover if that is your wish. But understand this clearly: if I arrive in the Higher Heaven and any of you are missing, you will never set foot there again. Consider yourselves banished.”

The warning needed no repetition. Men who had been slumped against the wreckage forced themselves upright. They fell in behind their commander without another word. Together they rose through the shattered roof and into the open sky.

Below them the inn was little more than a broken shell. Neighboring buildings bore scorch marks and cracked walls. Citizens stood in the streets, staring upward in silence.

From high above, Eric’s voice carried across the square, steady and unapologetic.

“I regret the damage done to your city. Someone will be sent to repair what was broken and compensate every loss.”

Then he turned and flew toward the distant horizon, the remaining guards trailing in his wake like dark shadows.

On the ground a citizen scowled as the figures dwindled. “They aren’t even of this realm. They come, they destroy, and they leave as if none of it matters.”

The leader of the city protectors overheard and spoke without looking away from the sky.

“They are stronger than we are. Keep that truth close and your mouth shut. They promised to make it right. That is more than most who hold power ever offer. Do not invite their attention a second time.”

The crowd remained quiet after that. Dust settled. The ruined inn smoked quietly under the afternoon sun. And somewhere beyond the city’s walls, a young prince continued his flight—unaware that the only person who had truly stood between him and the Higher Heaven now lay unconscious in the arms of his enemies.