Chapter 19: Chapter 18: The Dragon Queen

“You three slacking off again?” Leon’s voice was level, almost casual.

“N-no, of course not!” the third guard stammered.

“Y-yeah, we were just helping this lost lady here…” the second guard added, gesturing toward Selene. She stared at Leon with a blank expression. He returned it, unreadable.

“What business do you have at the royal castle of Dol Marne?” he asked. Selene didn’t answer. She simply approached.

Her steps were slow, deliberate. She stopped just short of Leon’s face. The guards exchanged confused glances, but Leon’s gaze stayed cold and steady.

Then water began to seep from his form—clear, rippling—spiraling around him until it took shape: a woman made entirely of water. The Undine circled Leon once, then drifted forward until it hovered before Selene. The white orb embedded in its forehead shimmered faintly, scanning her.

“Serina, what do you see?” Leon asked the Undine.

After a moment, Serina gasped and recoiled to Leon’s side, pointing back at Selene.

“You’re saying she’s a Tarot? No… that can’t be right.” Leon’s voice faltered, disbelief breaking his composure.

The guards looked between each other, stunned.

“Well… her being a Tarot would explain that unnatural hair length,” the first guard muttered.

“Shut the hell up,” Leon snapped. “Get out of my sight. Next time you slack off, I’ll cut your hands off and feed them to the pigs.”

The guards paled. “U-understood, Commander Leon!” they barked in unison before retreating at a brisk march.

Only Leon, Selene, and the Undine remained. The elemental stared at Selene with awe.

“What Tarot are you? And why are you here? Do you have business with the Queen that I haven’t been told about?” Leon asked.

Selene remained silent. Leon exhaled through his nose, a trace of frustration tightening his jaw.

She doesn’t seem like a threat… he thought.

But still—

“The Queen of Dol Marne has no love for Tarots. If you’re here without purpose, you should leave before she learns of your presence.”

But Selene didn’t seem to care. Her gaze drifted back to what lay beyond the castle gates. Leon and the Undine exchanged a glance—then looked back.

She was gone.

“What—?” Leon’s composure cracked. He spun, searching. Then he saw her—inside the castle walls, already standing before the looming fortress, eyes fixed on its towering spires.

“Hey!” Leon rushed forward, seizing her arms. The Undine surged from his form, water spiraling around Selene’s wrists and hardening into fluid shackles.

Selene glanced down. Instinct flared. With a sudden snap, the cuffs burst apart in an eruption of spray, water scattering like shattered glass. She clenched her fists, her body tensing.

“That strength…” Leon staggered back, stunned.

Serina’s restraints, broken as if they were paper. By someone so slight.

His grip on his sword tightened.

Unmistakably the power of a Tarot. She must be here for the Queen.

His blade sang as it left the hilt, the regal steel gleaming in the torchlight. He leveled it at her back.

Guards poured in from the courtyard, drawn by the commotion. Within seconds a dozen surrounded her, steel drawn, closing ranks.

We end her here. Now.

Leon lunged first, his men surging behind him.

“And the guards followed after him, their weapons raised against the woman,” Selene’s voice rang out, steady, deliberate—like reciting a script. Her eyes burned gold.

Leon’s chest tightened. Did she say something—?

“But their blades betrayed their masters,” she finished.

Leon’s strike fell—only to twist against him. His sword wrenched sideways, driving back toward his own face.

The narrative had been rewritten.

“What is this?” he snarled, straining to hold it away from his throat.

The others fared worse. A spear turned mid thrust, tearing free of its wielder’s grip. It spun back, shearing his arm off at the elbow before driving straight through his chest. The man dropped in a wet collapse.

Another guard screamed as his own mace rebounded, crushing the bones in his leg.

The courtyard erupted in chaos. Weapons turned traitor, carving through their masters while men fled, only to be hunted down and cut apart one by one.

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Leon alone held his ground. His Undine strained against his sword, walls of water flaring to hold back its relentless strikes.

“I guess you can speak after all,” he murmured, watching Selene stride past the carnage and slip into the castle’s entrance hall.

The sword lashed out again and again, tireless. Serina’s patience thinned; the orb on her forehead bled from white to crimson. Her arms reshaped into high-pressure blades of water.

The longsword lunged at Leon’s face. Serina met it head-on, her twin blades scissoring through the steel with overwhelming force. The weapon wrenched skyward, then slammed into the ground, twitching before falling still—stunned into silence.

“Careful,” Leon muttered. “That blade is expensive.” He retrieved it, examining the edge. Its malice had vanished. Reverting to an ordinary weapon. He sheathed it, relying now on Serina alone.

He charged into the entrance hall. Empty. Selene was gone.

Frantic, his gaze snapped upward. The stairwell loomed. At its top—the throne room doors stood wide open.

“No… my Queen.” His voice was low, grim, as he bolted up the stairs.

Inside, Selene advanced unhurriedly. Her hair dragged along the obsidian floor like a trailing cape. The throne room was pitch black, torches guttering against jagged pillars of stone, shadows bending inward toward the Queen’s seat.

Gold coins, furniture, jewelry, and ornaments lay in heaped piles along the edges of the chamber, some towering so high they nearly brushed the ceiling. The air was thick, oppressive. It felt less like a throne room and more like a hoarder’s den.

“Mmph.” A low mutter drifted forward. Selene’s eyes shifted to the source: a woman reclined at the far end of the room. Her hair was a rigid, unnatural pink, her eyes a sharp olive green. A silk-white robe draped across her form, necklaces and bangles of gold coiling her neck and wrists. She stretched lazily, releasing a yawn that rolled into something closer to a growl.

“Who dares enter my chamber with such repulsive energy?” she snarled, resting her cheek in her palm as her gaze swept over Selene.

“My Queen!” Leon’s voice cracked as he stumbled into the room. “Be careful—this woman is—”

“A Tarot.” The Queen cut him off. Her eyes narrowed, piercing.

Leon froze. “Y-yes… that’s right.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “You don’t carry the same stench as Lirael’s other creations. No… you’re from before, aren’t you?”

Selene’s eyes widened—the first true expression to cross her face since her existence.

From before? Leon thought, stricken. What does she mean?

“Leon. Leave.” The Queen’s tone shifted—flat, sharp.

“Y-yes, Your Highness.” The Undine surged forth, enveloping Leon in a sphere of water, and in an instant both vanished.

Silence filled the chamber as Selene and the Queen regarded one another.

“What’s your name?” the Queen asked.

“…Selene,” she murmured, just loud enough to be heard.

“Well, Selene… you may call me Tiamat. The Dragon Queen of Enmida.” She smiled faintly, fangs hidden behind her lips.

“Were you not affected by Lirael’s reset…?” Selene asked.

“Of course not. Lirael’s reset touched only Eirene’s children,” Tiamat replied smoothly. “Irelya’s spawn—greater beings like myself—weren’t affected.”

A crude, guttural laugh shook from her chest. “But I don’t mind. Eirene’s vessel’s negligence made things simpler. Humans now offer their treasures to me willingly. I no longer need to slaughter them to take what I want.”

She gestured to the mountains of gold surrounding her throne.

“Although…” Her clawed fingers dug into the armrests, leaving shallow gouges in the polished wood. “I have acquired all I ever wanted. That’s what I like to believe. Yet… deep down, my being craves something more.”

She sighed, voice softer but edged with curiosity. “Tell me… how on Enmida did you escape the reset?”

Selene’s mind drifted back decades, to the final battle between Remus and the Revenant, the world upended around them.

“I am no Tarot,” she said quietly. “I am the divine weapon of the true Tarot of the Moon… long since passed.”

Tiamat’s eyes widened, intrigued.

“Fascinating… the divine weapon of a Tarot achieves sentience after its host dies. I have never encountered such a thing!” She leaned forward, claws tapping the throne. “But… how did you manage to change forms?”

Selene’s gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m not certain. My wielder’s essence… it merged with me. Over time…” Her mind flicked through decades spent entombed beneath the shifting world.

“His essence must’ve developed into a new Soul Core entirely. And once complete, my form changed.” She flexed her arms and legs.

Tiamat nodded slowly. “Yes… that seems the most plausible.”

A pause fell between them.

“Why use these people?” Selene asked, finally lifting her gaze.

Tiamat blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You are one of the strongest beings in Enmida. You could claim anything, anyone, at will. Your strength rivals gods, surpassed only by Irelya himself. Yet here you are, a monarch of humans, commanding their obedience. Why waste your power so?”

Another pause, then Tiamat laughed. Deep, resonant, and heartless. Her fangs flashed, narrow and sharp, as she leaned back, clearly savoring the question.

“You’re… intriguing,” Tiamat said, tilting her head. “Fine. I’ll tell you—but only because I’m interested in working with you.”

“Working with me?” Selene asked, cautious.

“Yes. Imagine it: the Dragon Queen and one of Eirene’s Tarots, side by side. Formidable, wouldn’t you say?” Tiamat’s smile was predatory.

“And what reason would we have to work together?” Selene asked.

Tiamat let out a low, sinister giggle. “To kill Lirael, of course—and end this farce.”

She leaned forward. “When I saw what Lirael was doing to this world, I despised it. I traveled across all eight layers in search of her. I believed that by killing her, the world might return to how it once was.”

Her tone sharpened. “But I realized I couldn’t find her unless I drew her out. And what better way than using the very things you Tarots are designed to care for—ugh.”

She gestured vaguely, then continued. “I came here, ‘befriended’ some humans. Those friends became followers, some of those followers became slaves. In under a year, I had an army under my control.”

Tiamat’s hand reached behind her throne and emerged clutching a severed head by the hair. She let it roll to a stop just short of Selene’s feet.

“I knew my plan was working the day she sent one of her own creations after me: the ‘Court’ Tarots. This one was referred to as the ‘3 of Wands’—a pathetic creature whose entire existence is a mockery of yours.” She sighed, amusement and disgust mingling.

“But to conclude, it’s evident Lirael still cares for these humans—she goes out of her way to protect them, even when she’s no longer bound by Eirene’s will.” Small droplets of blackened blood stained Selene’s toes as her gaze lingered on the head at her feet.

“I say we turn that to our advantage. We unleash a massacre, sow chaos, and destroy humanity as much as possible to draw her attention.” She suggested.

“She’ll be even more pissed when she realizes one of the main perpetrators of these attacks being none other than a Tarot, it’ll be perfect.”

“I…” Selene hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her expression.

In an instant, Tiamat was in front of her, a crude smile stretching across her face. “Don’t you want the world restored? Don’t you want Eirene back?”

She lifted Selene’s chin with a single finger, forcing her eyes away from the corpse and onto her.

“Are you in?”