In the dim, dank chamber of his prison, Taliesin remained seated on the cold stone floor. His body still bore the scars of his captivity, but his spirit remained unbroken. As he sensed the distant echoes of the battle between his brothers and Malakar, his heart swelled with determination. It was time to compose a song of victory, a melody that would reach out to his brothers, strengthening their resolve and guiding them through the darkness.

With a deep breath, Taliesin closed his eyes and began to sing. His voice, though weakened by his torment, held an otherworldly power that transcended the confines of his cell.

In the darkness of despair, we stand as one,

Brothers bound, our trials have just begun.

Though shadows threaten to tear us apart,

With love as our armor, we'll win every heart.

In the depths of Erebus, we'll find our way,

Guided by the light of a brand new day.

Through battles fierce and sorrows deep,

In unity, our promises we'll keep.

With courage burning in our souls so bright,

We'll banish darkness, embrace the light.

Our bonds are strong, our spirits free,

For victory is our shared decree.

Though Malakar's power may seem immense,

In brotherhood, we find our true defense.

With every note and every chord,

Our love will be our shining sword.

So listen to this song, my dear brothers, near and far,

No matter where you are beneath the evening star.

In unity, our strength prevai……..

Taliesin's eyes shot open, and he ceased singing, the final words of the song left unspoken. A sudden and dark foreboding feeling descended upon him. It was as if a shadow had been cast over his heart, freezing the very notes on his lips.

In that disconcerting moment, he felt the unmistakable presence of his sister, Hera. However, she was being guided, or perhaps controlled, by an entity that seemed eerily familiar to Taliesin. Try as he might, he couldn't place who or what this mysterious force was, but he sensed that it held great power over Hera.

As the feeling of darkness grew within the prison cell, Taliesin's connection to his brothers and Hera vanished, leaving him with a profound sense of isolation. He strained to reach out to them through their shared bonds, but it was as though they had been enveloped in an impenetrable void.

Moments later, Malakar appeared before Taliesin, his dark robes billowing as he materialized out of the shadows. Taliesin wasted no time in demanding answers. "Where are my brothers? Where is Hera?"

A wicked smile curled upon Malakar's lips as he regarded the captive bard. "Ah, Taliesin, always so eager to reunite with your family," he purred with a sarcastic tone. "Your brothers and dear sister are... safe."

Taliesin's eyes bore into Malakar, his voice filled with a blend of fury and concern. "Tell me where they are. What have you done with them?"

Malakar's smile widened, and he extended his hand toward Taliesin. In an instant, the chamber around them began to disintegrate into shadows, and Taliesin felt himself being pulled away, his surroundings warping and shifting until they both vanished into obscurity.

Taliesin's surroundings shifted once again, and he found himself in a large, dimly lit room within Malakar's lair. The chamber bore a foreboding atmosphere, adorned with eerie symbols, and filled with the remnants of dark rituals. Across from him, the Hermit was bound in a manner like Taliesin, and he could see the weariness and concern in the Hermit's eyes. Chained to the wall, half-beaten and stripped of his armor, was Artur, who looked battered but unbowed.

His gaze then turned to Hera, who stood regal and beautiful as he remembered her from their youth. The transformation from her previous dark presence was stark and bewildering. He wondered what had transpired and what role she had played in this unfolding chaos. "Hera," he said, his voice filled with both relief and curiosity, "what has happened to you? “

Hera spoke with a sinister smile, saying, "I have become what I was always destined to be: The Queen."

Taliesin found himself taken aback by Hera's proclamation. "The Queen?" he repeated, his voice tinged with confusion. "Hera, the prophecy you speak of did not mean this."

Hera's smile remained, but it took on a menacing edge. "Oh Brother, what was it that our dear grandmother used to say? Oh yes, it was, 'Prophecies from the lips of men rarely reveal the whole truth.'"

"Do not mention our beloved grandmother, you witch!" Artur's voice thundered through the chamber. Hera turned her gaze towards him, her regal demeanor unbroken, and with a mere gesture of her hand, the chains that bound Artur to the wall constricted, silencing his protest.

Taliesin, his voice filled with desperation, cried out to Hera, "Please, Hera, stop hurting Artur! He's your brother. We're family!"

"Ah, dear brother, I have ascended beyond our family bonds. For I am more than Hera," Hera's voice shifted ominously as she spoke. The chamber seemed to grow colder as she continued, "I am also Melpomene, your muse of tragedy. We are now one, dear Taliesin, and together, we shall bring forth a new era of despair and chaos."

Melpomene's presence was undeniable, and her ominous words hung heavy in the air. "Prepare for the reign of despair," she continued, her voice now devoid of any warmth. "The world shall know suffering like never before. My influence shall spread like a shadow, and there is no escape from the tragedies that await."

Taliesin's heart sank as he realized the extent of the darkness that had consumed his sister and his muse.

Before Taliesin could respond, Malakar's mocking voice cut through the room. "Ah, a touching family reunion, I see. But let's not forget the purpose of our gathering." Malakar extended his hand, and the chains binding Taliesin and the Hermit shimmered with dark energy, tightening their hold.

As Taliesin and the Hermit struggled in their chains, Melpomene and Hera remained undaunted. Hera, or rather, Melpomene's voice, carried an eerie calmness as she said, "Since you have refused to create a song to revive the Anti-Magic, my dear Taliesin, we have no choice but to use our combined powers to enchant you."

Taliesin's heart pounded as he realized the gravity of their intentions. They sought to manipulate him, to force his hand in their dark design. He had to resist, for the consequences of yielding to their will were unimaginable.

He looked at the Hermit, their eyes locking in silent understanding. It was now a battle not just for their freedom but for the very balance of magic in their world.

The Hermit, with a voice that carried the weight of experience and regret, addressed Hera. "I, too, once believed that I had ascended beyond my family bonds and could control the darkness. But it nearly destroyed me, and I fear it will destroy you as well."

Hera, consumed by her newfound power and determination, lashed out at the Hermit. "Do not deny that there is a part of you that wants the Anti-Magic back. You're afraid of it, but it's there, isn't it?"

The Hermit, with a heavy sigh, acknowledged, "You're right. There is a part of me that craves the Anti-Magic, and it terrifies me and that part of me should terrify you as well, Hera."

Hera's tone took on a calculated edge as she added, "Rest assured, Brother, for it will no longer be within you that the Anti-Magic shall be placed."

Shocked, the Hermit retorted, "You?!"

"Of course," Hera declared, her gaze shifting between the Hermit and Taliesin. "So have the fates decreed."

The Hermit, with defiance, replied, "Less the fates and more your twisted ambitions, Hera."

With a scowl in her eyes, Hera turned away from the Hermit. Raising her hand, dark energy began to envelop Taliesin, binding him in an unseen grip.

 "How does my sister wear this every day!" Gadriel exclaimed as she struggled to climb the rocky formation, her nun's habit making the ascent even more challenging. The unforgiving terrain demanded careful footwork, and they all felt a sense of relief when they finally reached the top.

At the summit, a daunting sight greeted them. The lair where Taliesin was held captive lay below, surrounded by a menacing congregation of creatures and warlocks.

Skadi, with a discerning eye, assessed the situation. She whispered to the group, directing them on their next steps. "Ariadne, take Gadriel and prepare for the ritual. Harahel, stay with me until they are ready. A second pair of eyes is always useful."

Gadriel grumbled at the thought of having to move again. She lifted the bottom of her habit and followed Ariadne down to a nearby plateau on the rocky formation, ready to assist in the preparations for the ritual.

Skadi and Harahel remained hidden atop the formation, their eyes fixed on the lair and the surrounding creatures. In hushed tones, Skadi explained their plan to Harahel. "We'll stay hidden until Igor and Antioch are ready."

Harahel, her curiosity piqued, asked, "But how will we know when they're ready?"

Skadi smiled enigmatically and replied, "Oh, trust me, we will know."

Harahel patiently waited, her senses attuned to any sign that would indicate Igor and Antioch were ready to spring into action. She remained hidden with Skadi atop the rocky formation, her anticipation growing with each passing moment.

Then, without warning, a low rumble of thunder echoed through the skies, signaling the imminent arrival of the storm. As the thunder continued, it grew louder and more violent, surprising not only the creatures and warlocks surrounding the lair but also Harahel herself.

With each resounding clap of thunder, bolts of lightning pierced the dark clouds, illuminating the mist-shrouded landscape below. The flashes of light created a spectral dance, casting eerie shadows and revealing glimpses of figures approaching through the haze.

As the storm reached its crescendo, the forms of two men began to take shape within the mist. The lightning provided intermittent, stark illumination that revealed Igor and Antioch, their faces adorned with war paint, each bearing a unique design.

Antioch's war paint was a striking combination of red and black. The crimson lines traced across his face resembled fiery cracks in obsidian, symbolizing his chaotic and unpredictable nature. The black patterns painted on his cheeks seemed to mimic the patterns of flames, signifying his affinity for the element of fire.

Igor's war paint was a stark contrast of silver and black. The silver lines etched across his face gleamed like jagged shards of moonlight, reflecting his connection to the relentless force of the storm. The black patterns on his forehead and temples bore a resemblance to ancient symbols of both strength and protection, symbolizing his unwavering determination and unyielding nature.

Harahel was taken aback by the sight. She had heard tales of them wearing such war paint in the early ages, during a more primitive and violent time. The intricate and symbolic designs carried a sense of foreboding, underscoring the seriousness of the situation.

Skadi, who had witnessed the brothers' displays of power in the past, spoke in a hushed tone, her words carrying a mixture of reverence and concern. "Behold the brothers of thunder. May Rhea have mercy on the prey's souls."