Max stood in the center of it all, his chest rising and falling, the sword still glowing in his hand. 'That took almost all my energy.' He thought looking at the sword. 'What is this sword?'
"Big Sis Freya!" Max gasped, suddenly remembering his sister. Without wasting another second, he turned around and ran, his feet pounding against the palace floor as he rushed through the smoke and falling debris toward her room.
---
But when he reached the hallway outside her chamber, what greeted him wasn't chaos—it was silence. Freya was already outside, standing alone, her clothes slightly torn, her hair messy from battle, and her breathing heavy.
Around her lay a mountain of corpses—elves. Dozens, no, hundreds of bodies littered the floor, blood staining the walls and pooling at her feet. Some had been pierced cleanly through the heart, others frozen solid, others burned beyond recognition. It was a scene of carnage—and she was the one who had done it.
She had killed them all.
