The magical girls/boys squeezed their eyes tightly shut, with their small hands gripping their cute, ribbon-wrapped staffs until the delicate crystals at the tips glowed with an ominous, pulsing light.
Their tiny bodies trembled, but not from fear; it was from the strain of holding back sothing far larger and darker than them.
"Ahhhhh, how I despise fairies..."
A deeper, double-layered sound resounded from both boys’ mouths at the exact sa instant.
It was audibly feminine, though; with that rich and mature tone, laced with venomous disdain and centuries of accumulated bitterness.
The voices overlapped perfectly, one echoing inside the other like a curse spoken in stereo.
They raised their heads in perfect unison, the once-sparkling green eyes now clouded over with a dull, malevolent crimson glow that bled into the whites.
They glared directly at the smiling Isabelle, their expressions both twisting from childish indignation into sothing old and predatory, and utterly contemptuous.
"So... You have once more decided to abuse ?" The dual voice dripped with mockery, each syllable drawn out like a blade being slowly unsheathed.
"Geez, Lady Valentine," Isabelle chuckled lightly, unfazed, her tone almost playful despite the suffocating pressure now radiating from the twins. "You make sound like a molester. Oh, but yes, I wish to utilize your power. Just for a little while."
But yikes, the boys’ deanor had changed completely now.
The cute, sheepish aura that had made them seed like harmless magical girl idols vanished in an instant.
In its place swirled a dark, choking force; this thick, oppressive dominion that pressed down on the air itself, making the vines beneath our feet creak softly, as if under the invisible weight.
The pastel frills of their dresses seed almost mocking now, like a child’s costu draped over sothing monstrous.
They both rolled their eyes in perfect synchronization; long, exaggerated gestures that sohow conveyed centuries of weary annoyance.
"Let’s get it over with," they said together, voices dropping to a low, dangerous purr. "But know this."
Their smiles stretched eerily wide, lips parting to reveal teeth that were no longer the neat, pearly rows I’d seen monts ago.
Instead, they were jagged; uneven fangs glinted wetly in the dim light, sharp as broken glass. "When I fully get my power back, I will make you all pay dearly for that humiliation."
Her crimson gaze wandered lazily toward the distant battlefield where Roselyn was still locked in combat with the revived anomalous six.
"Particularly, that dark-skinned one that slew without any ounce of honor... I shall strip her flesh from bone—slowly and painfully—until she begs for death, which I will never give her.
"And I will have my revenge on that brat Titania for refusing my tea party invitation and daring to attack when I ca for answers!"
...What’s this stuff about tea parties?
These beings are long-lived, and ancient; titans and fairies that’ve seen centuries pass like days.
Yet they keep acting like petty children throwing tantrums over invitations and slights.
It was almost absurd, but the sheer malice in that feminine double-voice made it anything but funny.
After layering threat upon threat—each one more elaborate and sadistic than the last—the two boys’ insect-like wings began to flutter rapidly.
The delicate translucent mbranes buzzed with dark energy, edges now tinged with black veins that pulsed like living rot.
And in a blink of an eye, they vanished from the vine beside us.
***
SMASH!!
The boys’ landing on the far battlefield was cataclysmic.
The ground buckled and cratered beneath them; dozens of grey Children were flattened instantly into steaming puddles of sludge, bodies bursting apart under the sheer force of impact.
Shockwaves rolled outward in concentric rings, knocking lesser titans off their feet and sending black liquid spraying in wide arcs.
They raised their staffs in unison—those cute, heart-topped wands now crackling with abyssal black lightning—and began to cleave and shatter everything grey in their presence with violent, unrestrained fervor.
Monstrous strength surged through their small fras; every swing of the staffs sent shockwaves that ripped through clusters of Children just like a scythe through wheat.
Limbs flew and torsos split open, with heads popping like overripe fruit.
In no less than a few seconds, the thousands of swarming Children had been reduced by a full third; their numbers visibly thinning as grey sludge gathered stagnant and sank into the beaten earth.
The boys’ then murmured low, guttural spells under their breath—words that sounded like grinding stone mixed with distant screams—and entire groups of Children simply exploded without warning.
Grey flesh detonated from the inside out in wet, concussive bursts, their black blood misting the air in heavy curtains.
The twins pressed their backs together, forming a perfect circle of defense, and stretched their wands outward toward an incoming flood of charging Children.
The mindless horde reacted instinctively to the pool of raw, suffocating power emanating from the two boys; hesitating for the first ti, grey forms rippling in uncertainty. But they pressed forward anyway.
When the wave of Children got close enough, a single massive dark beam flashed out from both wands simultaneously.
The black light lanced forward like a living void, flushing through the Children directly in front of them while simultaneously pulling in the ones farther back.
It was an attack that drew its targets inward; making those grey bodies drag helplessly toward the center of the beam as though caught in an inescapable gravitational pull.
The beam traveled far beyond the imdiate battlefield, stretching out over the cliff edge before exploding in a disastrous eruption of shadow and force.
Black blood and drenched grey flesh scattered in a wide radius, raining down like filthy confetti.
The boys looked around the battlefield, their crimson eyes scanning slowly.
But it was quieter now: fewer Children littering the plain, the survivors being efficiently mopped up by the other fairies.
The six anomalous Borns, however, had taken notice.
Their golden eyes locked onto the twins with sudden, intense interest; drawn like moths to the dark fla of Lady Valentine’s power.
But that fascination only created dangerous openings; every ti one of the Borns turned toward the twins, Roselyn, Claire, or Clay exploited the distraction with brutal precision, with strikes landing on the Borns’necks and chests, regeneration visibly slowing.
"Ah, Roselyn," the boys said simultaneously, their voices dripping with saccharine venom as they smiled at her from several ters away. "It truly is wonderful to see you again."
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