Chapter 11: Chapter 10: Eclipse

“Stay down,” Kiwi ordered, leveling her axe at Deimos as he staggered to his knees.

“Helios,” Deimos muttered, extending his palm. White flame surged into the form of the divine lance. He gripped its hilt, eyes igniting as he rose.

“You said you were made by Lirael,” he said. “I wasn’t.”

Kiwi’s eyes narrowed. “You weren’t? Then how can you call yourself a Tarot?” She scoffed.

“Tarots aren’t exclusive to Lirael,” Deimos replied. “She mimics the craft of the true goddess who forged me. Still, I don’t deny your worth. We’re both divine constructs. The same design made with the same purpose of providing for humanity,”

Kiwi went still. Her grip tightened. “Wrong,” she whispered.

Deimos tilted his head. “What?”

“WRONG!” she roared.

“You call us equals but then brand me an imitation—born of a lesser goddess, beneath you? You dare insult Lady Lirael?”

She surged forward, her aura flaring emerald, each step accelerating her momentum.

“You arrogant, condescending bastard!”

She leapt, spinning midair, then brought the axe down with full force. Deimos met the strike with the broadside of Helios. The clash echoed like thunder.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that—it was a poor choice of words!” Deimos muttered, thrusting his lance upward.

The strike launched Kiwi into the air. She twisted midair, landing hard on her back with a thud that cracked the earth beneath her.

“You call yourself a Divine Tarot, yet you can't even choose your words properly?” she asked, springing up.

Before Deimos could ready himself, she vanished in a flash of green light—then reappeared behind him, her axe already poised for the same spot in his back she’d struck before.

“Pathetic.”

The axe came down—but it passed straight through him.

A white flame flickered where he had stood. An afterimage.

The real Deimos lunged from behind, seizing Kiwi by the collar of her maid dress and hurling her skyward. Her axe flew from her hand as she spiraled.

Deimos anchored his stance, leaving another blazing afterimage behind. In the same breath, he launched himself into the air beside her, slamming a punch into her ribs mid-flight. She gasped, then he spun and threw her back toward the ground—toward the waiting afterimage.

As her body fell, Deimos teleported, replacing the flickering image just in time to catch her by the legs and swing her downward like a hammer, slamming her into the stone floor with brutal force.

Kiwi’s emerald aura flickered violently as she struggled to maintain consciousness. She twitched on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, eyes fluttering.

She tried to crawl away—desperate, dazed.

But her axe embedded itself in the ground inches from her face, cutting off her escape.

Heavy footsteps followed. Deimos walked up, his weapon in hand.

He pointed the tip of Helios at her chest.

Kiwi didn’t move.

She only glared at him, eyes burning with defiance through the haze of pain.

“If you kill me, not only will those two remain locked in place forever,” Kiwi warned, flicking her gaze toward Commander Amelia and Princess Elvira—still suspended mid-motion like glass statues, “but the rest of Eclipse—and Lady Tiamat—will know the moment I fall. And then every life inside this castle will be hanging by a thinner thread than it already is.”

Deimos narrowed his eyes. “Eclipse, who are they?”

Kiwi didn’t answer.

Instead, she lunged for her fallen axe—only for multiple flaming afterimages to erupt from Deimos’ body, each one grabbing hold of her limbs and pinning her to the ground.

“…You said innocent lives would be at risk. And you're okay with that?”

Tears welled in Kiwi’s eyes as she thrashed beneath the weight of the spectral flames. “It doesn’t matter,” she hissed, her voice cracking. “Because when it’s over, everyone will know who I am. No more mocking. No more calling me a falsemake. An ‘imitation’…”

She let out a broken laugh— the laugh of a woman overcome with madness.

“You're willing to abandon everything you are just for a chance to be seen?” Deimos said softly, his voice tinged with sadness.

But Kiwi wasn’t listening. She kept struggling, her emerald aura pulsing wildly, growing brighter and brighter, raw power shaking the afterimages that held her down.

“I’m done talking with you, ‘Tarot of the Sun,’” she spat. “Kill me… or die.”

Deimos stared down at her glowing form, the light reflecting in his eyes. Then he exhaled quietly.

“You’ve lost your way.”

He stepped forward, extending his hand toward her chest. As his palm hovered above her, his body blurred—his superposition ability flaring to life.

His hand phased through her flesh, bypassing bone and blood until it reached the Soul Core nestled deep within.

“You’re betraying the purpose you were made for… just to be recognized,” he whispered.

Dozens of overlapping versions of himself surrounded her, each repeating the same words, the unified echoes crashing like a wave.

“You… are the one who’s arrogant.”

White flames surged across his hand as he gripped her Soul Core.

Kiwi’s eyes widened—then rolled back.

Her aura faded as her body went limp, falling unconscious.

The Seven of Swords Tarot was defeated.

Deimos rose in silence, stepping back as the frozen world around them cracked.

Time resumed.

Elvira and Amelia staggered as they were freed from the stasis spell, gasping as if surfacing from underwater.

“Huh—what happened?” Amelia muttered, glancing around as the acrid scent of smoke stung the air. Princess Elvira was coughing beside her, eyes watery and unfocused.

“Deimos?” Elvira rasped as he approached.

“I took down the maid,” he said grimly. “She claimed to be part of a group called Eclipse. Everyone in this castle is in danger.”

“Eclipse? Wait, but that’s…” Elvira’s voice trailed off.

Amelia finished for her. “Those lunatics who think the goddess Lirael is guiding their every move.” She exhaled sharply. “What the hell are they doing here?”

“She didn’t tell me much,” Deimos admitted. “But she mentioned someone named Tiamat—”

Amelia and Elvira gasped in unison.

“Tiamat’s here?” Elvira whispered. “That’s… impossible.”

“The dragon queen herself,” Amelia growled, her jaw tightening. “What the hell is she doing in this castle?”

Deimos blinked. “Dragon queen? Wait…”

A memory surfaced—Queen Selene in the throne room, speaking of a dragon attacking Dol Marne every year, always searching for something.

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“Remus,” he realized. “They’re here for Remus!”

Elvira looked puzzled, but Amelia reacted instantly. “Shit—the cellar!” She flung her arms out, smoke swirling around the three of them before they vanished in a flash of grey mist.

They reappeared in the damp corridors beneath the castle. The cellroom.

Their footsteps echoed through the stone hall as they rushed forward. Rounding a corner, they stopped cold.

One of the guards Amelia had stationed by Remus was hunched over something on the ground. A wet, fleshy crunch echoed through the hallway.

“Soldier?” Amelia called out, approaching cautiously. “Where is the prince?”

No response. Only the slow, rhythmic sound of chewing.

“Soldier?” she repeated, voice tense.

As she stepped closer, the scene became horribly clear. The second guard lay lifeless on the floor, her eyes glassy and vacant.

Her armor had been torn open—and the first guard was feasting on her entrails, face slick with blood, his teeth grinding against bone.

Amelia froze. “What the f—”

The creature snapped its head around. Two jagged horns jutted from its forehead.

“I-It’s a Newt!” Elvira shouted.

The guard-thing rose with an inhuman hiss, wing-like limbs bursting from its back.

But Amelia was faster. Her sword flashed in a clean arc—

The Newt’s head hit the wall with a wet thud, blood spraying the ceiling. Silence returned.

Elvira staggered back, clutching her stomach. She gagged, then doubled over. Deimos held her steady as she retched.

“Amelia, we have to get her out of here,” he said urgently. “This place isn’t safe.”

“N-no, I’m fine, really—” Elvira started, pale and shaking.

“You’re right, Deimos,” Amelia cut in, already walking toward her. Ashes spiraled around her, forming a swirling gateway.

On the other side was a warm, candlelit room in a quiet inn—its peacefulness at odds with the horror they’d just seen.

“Amelia, what—what is this?” Elvira asked, wiping her mouth.

“A portal to Breshire,” Amelia replied. “You’ll stay here until this is over. I’ll inform the local guards—you’ll be protected.”

“No!” Elvira stepped back, eyes blazing. “I won’t hide while my mother’s missing and my brother’s in danger! That is not up for debate!”

“You’re right. It’s not.” Amelia grabbed her effortlessly and tossed her through the portal. “I’ll come retrieve you when it’s over.”

The portal snapped shut before Elvira could protest.

The hallway went still.

“That curse,” Amelia said, turning to Deimos. “It’s not flaring up, is it?”

Deimos shook his head. “I don’t think so. My soul core’s been burning hot since the fight with Remus—my arkhaios energy is probably keeping it suppressed for now.”

Amelia allowed a small smile. “Good. Because if Tiamat really is here, the last thing I need is you losing your damn mind.”

They pressed forward through the winding stone corridors.

“So the dragon in Hawthorn… that was her?” Deimos asked.

“Technically,” Amelia replied, “but I think it was one of her five specters. Her ‘heads.’”

“Her what?”

“Tiamat’s true form is said to have five heads—Death, Famine, War, Illness, and Deception,” Amelia explained. “Each can separate and act independently. They’re monsters on their own, but combined, they’re…” She paused.

“I guess that would explain how it breached Hawthorn’s barrier so easily,” She added as they rounded another corner, approaching Remus’ cell.

But then, they stopped.

A tall, hooded woman stood in front of his cell’s bars—horns curling from her head, her face partially obscured by shadow. A red, mist-like vapor streamed from her lips into the cage.

“Stop… stop it…” came a faint murmur from inside.

“Hey!” Amelia shouted, stepping forward.

The woman turned slowly. Her lips curled into a smile. “Ah—Tarot of the Sun. How nice to see you again. I take it Kiwi’s been dealt with?”

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing?” Deimos demanded.

She giggled. “I suppose introductions are in order this time. After all, we’re practically acquaintances now.”

She took a step back, spreading her arms.

“My name is Tiamat—Dragon Queen of Enmida. Herald of the World Tree, Irelya.”

“Stop… leave me alone…” Remus groaned, the growl in his voice deepening.

“Ah… it seems the moonlight’s stirring,” Tiamat mused. “I had hoped to take the boy quietly. But I suppose this is the part where you two try to stop me.”

She clapped her hands cheerfully. “Well, I could use a warm-up before I kill you both.”

With a childlike skip, she turned and fled down the hall.

“Catch me if you can!” she called over her shoulder.

Amelia and Deimos exchanged a glance. Her expression darkened.

“Get back here, you reptilian piece of shit!” Amelia roared, sprinting after her.

Deimos moved to follow—but paused at the threshold of Remus’s cell.

Inside, Remus lay on the floor, unconscious. A red fog swirled around him like coiling smoke. His body twitched. Then—

“Remus…?” Deimos called out.

Remus shot upright, eyes snapping open.

“Tarot of the Sun…? Is that you?” he asked, voice raw, head slowly turning toward him.

“Remus, are you okay—” Deimos began, stepping forward, concern etched across his face.

But Remus only groaned—his body convulsing violently, limbs twitching like a puppet tangled in its strings. His back arched unnaturally, a wet, gurgling sound rising from his throat.

“Ughh—You… need to leave... I’m—” he choked out, his voice strained and broken, as his muscles spasmed beneath his skin. Saliva began to dribble from the corner of his mouth, thick and foamy.

“I’m sorry—Mother, I tried... I really tried to contain it...”

His hands had twisted into grotesque claws, jagged and metallic in sheen. His golden irises flickered with violent crimson light before his arm shot out with unnatural speed, lashing behind him—splintering the steel-framed bed with a single swipe.

The Arkhaios energy... Deimos realized, heart sinking. It’s—it’s denser than earlier, stronger.

A low hum filled the room as shadows began to writhe around Remus, forming black, fur-like tendrils that wrapped around his skin like smoke made solid.

The air grew thick. The lights flickered—once, twice—then died completely, casting the room into a suffocating darkness.

“Remus?” Deimos called out cautiously, his voice echoing against the stone. White flames ignited along his body, bathing him in ghostly light like a lantern.

But the cell remained shrouded. He inched forward, hesitant.

Then—two burning red eyes blinked open within the blackness. Suspended. Motionless. Watching.

Deimos extended a hand, pushing light toward the cell.

The beast was revealed.

Remus had swollen to fill nearly the entire cell, monstrous and contorted, his entire form cloaked in black shadow-fur that writhed with malevolence. White foam oozed from his fanged maw, sizzling where it hit the stone.

Before Deimos could act, the creature lunged—crashing against the reinforced steel bars with a deafening clang. The room shook. Deimos stumbled back, instinctively raising his guard.

He’s... he’s not human anymore...

Remus snarled and slammed his claws into the bars again. Each blow rang out like a hammer on an anvil—metal groaned, buckled. The enchanted steel began to warp.

“Remus, wait—!”

But it was too late.

With a final explosive roar, Remus tore through the bars, lunging forward with terrifying speed. His massive claws wrapped around Deimos’s face and slammed him hard into the wall, stone cracking from the impact.

Deimos groaned, dazed, but managed to press his palm against the beast’s chest. His eyes flashed white, and divine flame erupted, licking across Remus’s body like living wrath.

The werewolf shrieked, staggering back as the white fire surged up his limbs. He released Deimos, thrashing to extinguish the holy blaze.

Deimos hit the floor hard and scrambled backward, coughing, the taste of blood on his tongue. The flames burned bright—but only for a moment. The shadow-fur pulsed, smothering the fire like water on a match.

“Helios...” Deimos whispered, reaching out. “Come to me—”

The air shimmered as white fire coalesced into the form of a blazing lance. But before he could grasp it—

Remus’s clawed foot stomped down, extinguishing the embers. He stepped in front of Deimos, towering and monstrous. With a guttural snarl, he grabbed him by the torso and lifted him off the ground.

Their faces were inches apart.

Remus roared—a monstrous, ear-splitting blast that sprayed hot saliva across Deimos’s face.

Then he slammed him into the wall—again—then up, pinning him to the ceiling, before driving him down through the stone floor in a shockwave of debris.

The two of them crashed through layers of castle structure until they reached the grand hall above. Maids screamed at the sudden intrusion—gasping at the sight of the creature.

Remus turned and roared, feral and unrestrained. The maids scattered, fleeing in panic.

The beast turned toward a large stained-glass window.

And charged.

With a crash of shattering glass, Remus burst through, carrying Deimos in his claws. The night wind howled as they soared out into the open air.

Moonlight danced across Remus’s shadowy fur, making it ripple and glisten.

Up the side of the castle he climbed, claws digging into stone like blades. Deimos writhed, struggling to free himself.

Remus suddenly hurled him upward. Deimos soared briefly—

Before Remus leapt and intercepted him mid-air, smashing him down into the castle’s roof with crushing force.

The structure cracked beneath them. Deimos’s eyes blazed white as he raised a fist and slammed it down, releasing a desperate shockwave of white flame.

The fire engulfed the rooftop in an explosion. Remus shrieked in agony and stumbled back, swatting at the flames as he fled into the shadows once more.

Deimos gasped, coughing blood, body trembling as he staggered upright. White fire burned along the wound on his back, unfurling like spectral wings. His hand extended—

Helios materialized once more, burning brightly in his grip.

Across the rooftop, silhouetted against the full moon, stood Remus atop a spire.

His charred fur had regrown. The fire was gone. His red eyes glowed like embers in the night, locked on Deimos.

The beast simply watched—as though weighing whether to strike again.

Then, the silence was shattered.

A howl tore through the sky—a grotesque, inhuman screech warped by rage and agony, something between a man’s scream and a wolf’s cry.

Deimos narrowed his gaze, tightening his grip on Helios.

He took his stance,

And he charged.