As soon as Mary stepped through the portal, the icy winds of Antarctica greeted her once again. The harsh, unforgiving landscape of Earth’s southernmost continent felt colder than ever, but it was nothing compared to the chill she felt as her cold eyes swept across the gathered elves waiting for them.

The High Elves, adorned in their ceremonial cloaks, stood in rigid formation, their gazes shifting between Mary and the new arrival behind them. They had been eagerly awaiting the reinforcements from Forestia and after receiving them they were on the way to go back to the fortress but the reopening of the portal made them excited on the possibility for more reinforcements, their expressions proud and expectant. However, when the portal suddenly reopened from the Amazon instead of Forestia, their pride turned to confusion, then fear, as Mary emerged with her battered Royal Knights.

The atmosphere tensed further as one of the High Elves hesitantly stepped forward. “Commander Mary,” he said cautiously, bowing slightly. “We had assumed your forces were—”

Mary’s cold glare cut him off. “You assumed what?” Her voice was sharp, a blade against the ice.

The High Elf hesitated. He had expected Mary to return a failure, if she returned at all. The High Elves had sent a secret message to the Royal Court in Forestia, declaring Mary unfit for command—an ambitious commoner blinded by her own greed for success. They had requested reinforcements to replace her, and now, standing before them, Mary radiated a barely contained fury that sent a shiver down their spines.

“We... only sought to ensure the success of our mission,” another High Elf tried to explain. “Without direct communication, we could not—”

A voice, smooth and regal, interrupted them.

“How disgraceful. Is this how the mighty warriors of the Elven Empire conduct themselves?”

A tall figure stepped forward, flanked by an elite escort. Her presence commanded immediate attention, and even Mary felt her muscles tense instinctively.

Standing before them, draped in flowing silver and violet robes, was Dyana von Forestia—the twin sister of Prince Dyug, and the second Royal Elf to step foot on Earth.

Mary remained silent, her golden eyes locking onto Dyana’s silver ones. There was no warmth in that gaze.

Dyana smirked, as if amused by the situation. “Ah, Mary. How unexpected to see you standing here.”

Mary’s fingers twitched, but she kept her composure. Dyana had always been a shadow over Dyug’s life. She never allowed anyone else to get close to him, treating him as her personal plaything. When Dyug had fallen in love with Mary, Dyana had been one of their greatest obstacles, ensuring that no one in the Royal Court would ever approve of their union.

She was also one of the reasons Dyug had thrown himself so recklessly into battle.

Dyana studied Mary with an almost condescending amusement. “You seem surprised to see me.”

Mary’s voice was cold. “I had hoped never to.”

The High Elves shifted uncomfortably. The air between the two women crackled with tension, a silent battle of wills.

Dyana chuckled, tilting her head. “You wound me, Mary. I’m only here because of your failures.” Her silver eyes gleamed with false sympathy. “The Royal Court was deeply troubled by your... let’s say, independent decisions.”

Mary clenched her fists, but before she could respond, Dyana’s smirk widened. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of taking everything from you. I’m sure you’ll find a way to be useful.”

The High Elves, emboldened by Dyana’s presence, straightened. Mary could see it in their eyes—the shifting power dynamics, the subtle but unmistakable fracturing of command.

There were now two factions in Antarctica.

One led by Dyana and the High Elves, favoring strict adherence to Royal Court policies. They viewed Mary and her Royal Knights as expendable, tools to be used and discarded.

The other, Mary’s faction, composed of Common Elves and Lunar Priestesses, loyal to her vision of proving that non-Royals could rise beyond their stations.

Mary took a slow breath, forcing her anger to cool. Dyana was a skilled manipulator—she wanted Mary to lash out, to make a mistake.

Instead, Mary smiled. A sharp, knowing smile.

“We’ll see who’s truly useful soon enough,” she said smoothly.

The battle for Earth had just become a battle for control.

And Mary had no intention of losing.

---

David gritted his teeth as he pressed a hand against his side, blood seeping through his torn combat gear. Solomon limped beside him, his left arm hanging uselessly, while Jamie, still dazed from the ordeal, clung tightly to David’s side. Their destination was the Brazilian military base, a temporary haven before they could arrange transport to the nearest U.S. base, but their path through the dense Amazon was anything but safe.

The rustling of leaves and the faint click of safety catches being flipped off made them stop in their tracks. Within moments, they were surrounded—not by elves, but by the very warlord and his men who had first ventured into this mess with them. The warlord, a tall, scarred man draped in jungle fatigues, stepped forward with a smirk, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his heavily accented English dripping with amusement. “It looks like you boys have been through hell. And yet, somehow, you’re still holding on to the prize.” His gaze flickered toward Jamie, eyes gleaming with greed.

David tightened his grip on his weapon, though he knew they were outgunned. “She’s not a prize,” he spat. “She’s a survivor.”

The warlord chuckled. “Survivors don’t come with a bounty that could buy a kingdom.” He gestured, and his men closed in, rifles raised. “Hand her over. You two can walk away.”

Solomon, despite the pain, managed a dark chuckle. “You think after all this, we’d just hand her over to the likes of you?”

The warlord grinned. “I think you don’t have a choice.”

The jungle air grew tense as fingers hovered over triggers. David and Solomon exchanged a glance. They weren’t going down without a fight.

The tension crackled in the air, every second dragging toward an inevitable life-or-death battle. Fingers hovered over triggers, breath hitched, muscles tensed—until suddenly, a sharp voice erupted from David’s satellite phone.

“Get down! NOW!”

The sudden command sent a wave of confusion through both sides, but David and Solomon reacted instantly, instincts honed by years of experience. They grabbed Jamie and dove to the ground without hesitation.

A heartbeat later, hell rained down upon them.

Gunfire erupted from the jungle, cutting through the warlord’s men with ruthless precision. Rounds tore through flesh and foliage, ripping apart the once-silent Amazon night. Shouts of panic turned to screams as bodies dropped in rapid succession.

David and Solomon, pressed flat against the dirt, exchanged a quick glance. A new force had entered the battlefield—but whether they were saviors or simply another group of opportunists, neither of them knew yet.

One thing was certain.

The hunt for Jamie had just taken another deadly turn.