A force of air pushed Travis back to his feet. His emerald scepter cracked from the tip. Beside him, Princess Lucy leaned on his shoulder for support.
A few meters behind them, the strawberry-haired girl tried to piece together the shattered pieces of the dark crystal. It was the Demon of Dark Arts’ gift to her, after all, for her dedication in studying black magic. Her eyes maintained themselves on the black shards.
“Nyatalia! I mean, Queen Solera! Please come back to your senses!” The amber-haired boy in a prince-like coat and vest clothing rushed toward her. “The king has fallen gravely ill. Have you forgotten about our mission?”
“Larson?” She looked up at him—a moment’s recognition.
The silver-haired girl closed her fist and retracted her arm, sending Larson back to the opposite wall with unseen force. “Don’t be fooled, mother! He’s trying to take you away from me.”
“But...” Nyatalia hesitated after her failed attempt at reaching the boy’s hand.