Part 1
The flames rose from the buildings of the city, but it was otherwise silent. Syndra stood in front of the gates to the palace of Ammangoan, General Ryul by her side.
"General, I'm going in alone, is that clear?" Syndra said, still looking straight ahead.
"Yes ma'am. The city is evacuated, and our forces are already pulling back. The Rangers will only re-enter on your signal." Ryul said, his scarred face a testament to the brutality of the civil war.
"Good. I'll return with his head on a pike, or not at all. If I fail, you know what to do."
"The Mithril Count's already made the preparations. We'll bury the entire capital. Good luck... Syndra." Ryul said, using just her first name for the first time in the century he's known her.
Syndra nodded, and entered the palace courtyard, the gates slamming shut behind her. The snow was already picking up as the emotions in her rose. Standing at the top of the steps to the main entrance was her hated enemy, the Usurper King himself.
"So, you finally came." He spat at her. "The sickly dog returns to die in her own home."
"Bold words for a usurper." Syndra replied, the winds picking up at her voice.
"This is my throne, you're too weak to stop me! You always were! Your brother begged for his life, you know. Cried and pleaded with me, said he would leave and never return. Pathetic." The King said, laughing. "I told him he could leave, then shot him in the back right here in the courtyard."
Syndra screamed and hurled a statue at the King. He deftly dodged it and continued to laugh.
"Is that all you've got? Just the mad tantrums of a child, even after all these years?"
"It's telling you've done nothing to stop me on your own. Where are all your alliances, usurper?" Syndra replied, her hands ripping another statue out of the ground. "Oh wait, I know. They were never loyal to you. They were loyal to the throne."
"I'm the King! It's my throne!" He screamed, hurling a ball of ice at her, but it melted before it even got close.
"You were never the King. Tarron was. You were an usurper, may your name remain forever unremembered. You stole a throne and the North cursed you for it." Syndra screamed, throwing the statue at him.
"How dare you, insolent child! I'll kill you again!" The King yelled as he barely dodged the second attack.
"Child? You dare?" Syndra shouted, her entire body glowing a brilliant blue. "I am Syndra Valmaris the Avalanche! I am Queen Valmaris! I am the Queen of the North, and this is my throne!"
At this declaration, the Royal Palace rumbled, as if reacting to Syndra's presence. The doors behind the King exploded, and standing behind him was the ghost of Prince Tarron, holding the royal blade of the North.
"My murderer, your time has come!" Prince Tarron yelled, holding the blade like a javelin. "Syndra, catch!"
Tarron threw the blade, the King failing to intercept it despite his efforts, and Syndra caught it in her left hand effortlessly. She hoisted it into the air, and the palace exploded with bright blue light.
"What have you done!" The King shouted.
"I've freed all the souls you've damned, you thrice damned monster! Give my regards to King Xolarand when you get to hell!" Syndra practically screamed, running straight at him, plowing straight through his shields, and cutting his head off with a single slice of the blade.
Syndra collapsed to the ground. It was done, finally, after a thousand years. She avenged Tarron, and her entire family. She looked up at the sky as the heavy snow gave way to lightly falling snow in a matter of minutes, slowly panting. Tarron walked over and looked down at her, their eyes meeting.
"Tarron, I did it." Syndra said, her eyes full of tears. "I'm sorry it took so long."
"It took as long as you needed." Tarron replied with a smile. "You've freed us all, but it's not your turn just quite yet. The North needs a strong ruler."
"But who will carry on my line, Tarron? The thought of another, I could never." Syndra asked, her breathing slowing.
"All I can tell you is the Gods work in mysterious ways. Until Eadola, my love." Tarron answered softly, before fading away.
"Tarron... No... don't... leave... me..." Syndra pleaded, as she passed out.
It was at this moment Vordea entered the palace grounds, her slimy tentacles crawling out of a hole in the sky before she dropped to the ground, her black ink dripping everywhere.
"Looks like I missed the fun." Vordea said aloud to the quiet courtyard. "No matter."
Vordea quietly walked through the courtyard, taking note of the damage. She stopped when she found Syndra's corpse, and frowned.
"Well, this won't do at all. No, you're forbidden from dying. You don't get to rejoin Tarron quite yet. Your people need you." Vordea said, reaching inside her armour and pulling out the Amulet of the Corpse King. "Now why did your soul end up in here? Curious."
Vordea reached inside the amulet and pulled out an amorphous blob, and started shoving it down Syndra's throat, punching and kicking it to force it inside. Syndra gasped, and started breathing again.
"Much better. The elves need a leader, not a corpse." Vordea said, dusting off her hands. "Queen Valmaris has such a lovely ring to it, you know."
Syndra breathed quietly in response.
"Hmph. I'll give you a revival present too. Won't you be surprised in a few months?"
Vordea knelt down, and gently placed her hand on Syndra's exposed belly. It briefly glowed, and Vordea smiled.
"Don't say I never did anything for you, Syndra. Have a child with Tarron with my blessings, Queen of the North."
Vordea eventually found the headless usurper King and once again smiled, but much more wickedly.
"Oh, Xolarand will have fun with you, have no doubts. The Great Destroyer claims all her debts, usurper. Your name has been stricken from history. None shall remember your name, not even you."
Vordea turned back and looked at Syndra resting under the collapsed door, and had another thought. "You aren't the Avalanche Princess anymore. You're the Queen, so consider your curse lifted. Your family is avenged."
Vordea clapped her hands twice, causing the skies above Ammangoan to clear, and the snow to stop. Seemingly satisfied with her work, she tore a hole in the world, and left as quietly as she arrived.