The lords who still stood against her were not fools.

  They had seen the fall of Brannor, watched as an entire Dominion vanish without a trace of blood.

  And they had felt the creeping terror of what that meant.

  This was not a war they could win through sheer force.

  Selene’s armies did not merely conquer.

  They changed the battlefield itself.

  She had bent Lords and nations without lifting a sword.

  And that left only one option.

  If they could not defeat her empire, then they would strike at the heart of it.

  They would kill her.

  ---

  The plan was simple, in theory.

  Selene was a ruler, not a warrior.

  She was powerful, yes—her control, her strategy, her presence had shaped this war.

  But she had never stood at the front of an army.

  She had never wielded power with her own hands.

  And that was where they saw the flaw.

  If they could eliminate her, then the Court of Balance would fracture.

  Without her control, the Fae Lords she had summoned would turn against one another.

  Without her authority, the vassals who had sworn their loyalty would see no reason to remain.

  The Court would crumble under its own weight.

  And all they needed to do was cut off the serpent’s head.

  ---

  The Lords gathered what remained of their strongest warriors.

  Not armies.

  Not battalions.

  But Champions.

  The chosen Arms that had carried them through the first phase of the war.

  Each of them a legend in the making, wielding strength beyond mortal limits.

  Swordsmen whose blades could carve through steel.

  Assassins who could slip between shadows like ghosts.

  Sorcerers who bent the elements to their will.

  They gathered in the dead of night, away from prying eyes.

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  And one by one, the Lords sent them forth.

  ---

  Selene sat in her throne room as the first of them arrived.

  She had known this was coming.

  She had seen the desperation creeping into the hearts of her enemies.

  They were no longer fighting to win.

  They were fighting to stop her at any cost.

  She respected that.

  It made them more dangerous than before.

  And yet—

  It would not save them.

  ---

  The first strike came with silent precision.

  An assassin, slipping through the shadows of her court, blade coated in a poison that would slay even an immortal.

  He did not make it within ten steps of her before the air around him broke.

  A pressure slammed into his body, crushing his limbs to the floor.

  He gasped, choking on the weight of his own existence.

  Selene didn’t even look up.

  She turned the page of the document she had been reading, voice calm.

  “You assumed I was vulnerable.”

  The assassin could not move.

  Selene closed the book with a soft sound.

  “And that was your first mistake.”

  The weight increased.

  The assassin’s bones snapped.

  And then, he was gone.

  ---

  The second wave came in brute force.

  Warriors wielding weapons of legend, enchanted arms that had been crafted by the strongest blacksmiths of the world.

  They stormed the Verdant Nexus, their battle cries filling the air.

  The Fae Lords watched in silence.

  Not because they were caught off guard.

  Not because they feared the outcome.

  But because they had been waiting.

  The first warrior charged forward.

  And Sovereignty met him with a single step.

  The very concept of rulership crashed upon him like a tidal wave, driving him to his knees.

  He gasped, his sword falling from his grasp.

  His body refused to obey.

  He was strong—stronger than any normal man could ever hope to be.

  But Sovereignty was not a man.

  It was an inevitability.

  The warrior collapsed, shaking.

  And then, one by one, the others followed.

  Their wills shattered before a single strike was thrown.

  Because Sovereignty did not need to fight them.

  It only needed to remind them of their place.

  ---

  The third wave was different.

  They did not attack through strength or stealth.

  They came with sorcery.

  Spells of unmaking, curses meant to strip Selene of her power, to unravel the throne she sat upon.

  But they did not understand.

  They did not understand what Balance was.

  They did not understand what she had become.

  Selene did not block the magic.

  She did not counter it.

  She simply accepted it.

  And then—

  She let the universe answer in turn.

  The moment the first curse touched her, it rebounded tenfold.

  The sorcerer screamed as his body warped, twisted by the very spell he had cast.

  The others hesitated, but the chain reaction had already begun.

  Every spell meant to weaken her instead turned upon its caster.

  Every attack meant to strip away her rule only solidified it further.

  The magic of the world did not work against her.

  It worked through her.

  And there was no counter to that.

  ---

  The last of them arrived just before dawn.

  A single warrior, wrapped in black armor, his blade humming with power.

  He had been their final hope.

  The strongest Arm in their ranks.

  A man who had never lost a battle.

  He stepped into the throne room, staring at her without fear.

  Selene watched him with mild interest.

  He was different from the others.

  Not desperate.

  Not reckless.

  But resolved.

  She tilted her head slightly.

  “You are the last.”

  The warrior nodded.

  “I know.”

  He did not attack.

  Instead, he lowered his sword—not in surrender, but in understanding.

  “You are not what I expected.”

  Selene smiled faintly.

  “I never am.”

  The warrior exhaled slowly.

  Then, he knelt.

  Not in defeat.

  Not in submission.

  But in recognition.

  “I was sent to kill you.”

  He looked up, meeting her gaze.

  “But now, I only wish to serve.”

  Selene leaned forward slightly.

  “And why is that?”

  The warrior’s lips curved into a smirk.

  “Because I only follow those who cannot lose.”

  Selene chuckled softly.

  She extended a hand.

  “Then rise.”

  And so, he did.

  ---

  The last assault had failed.

  Not because Selene had stopped it.

  But because it had never stood a chance.

  The enemy had lost the moment they chose to strike.

  Because they had played her game.

  And no one played her game and won.

  Selene closed her eyes, exhaling.

  “The Lords will make their final move soon.”

  Foxes grinned.

  “They’re already too late.”

  Selene nodded.

  Because now, there was only one path left.

  The war was ending.

  And she would be the only one left standing.