The creature from the other side pressed its claw-like hands into the tear. Something seemed to give it pause as it growled and pushed with more pause. It was almost as if an invisible wall was preventing it from passing through to this side.
Light bent oddly around it for only a moment before it tore through that invisible wall.
Midhir’s hands gripped the shattered sword’s hilt just as a frigid wind hit him, carrying with it a sweet, calming scent. He shivered with the cold – and with crippling fear – as he stepped back, holding onto the sword. It was his lifeline – his only chance of survival.
The creature stepped through the tear. It’s bare, twisted feet touched the ground. The world seemed to lose some of its vibrance as the earth beneath the tear began to turn grey, and the nearest trees’ leaves fell, brown and dead.
The creature paused. It raised its chin, breathing in deeply. A spark appeared in its lifeless eyes, and its dried skin slowly began to regain colour. It stretched its fingers, breathed out, then smirked as its face continued to become more humanlike.
Eyes as white as milk turned to Midhir as its hair became a pale silver. It opened its mouth – two pairs of fang-like teeth in clear display – and then, it made a sound.
Words unfamiliar to him scratched his ears and his mind. It was a maddening voice, both soft and screeching at the same time. It’s words echoed in the air, and in his mind.
The creature pointed at him. It said something one more time, once again with words he couldn’t understand. Then, it took a step. More of the world lost its lustre, and the creature’s skin seemed to gain more colour. It’s eyes were no longer a milky white – there was a crimson halo there.
It was draining the very life around it, using it to empower itself. It had to be stopped – no matter what. “Go back,” Midhir forced the words out, summoning his courage. “Go back!” He reached within, calling forth his spiritual power.
There were only four gems left in the intact part of Lord Aulorn’s sword. He reached for the most familiar one. Crimson colour flashed as he stepped forward, and the sword burst into flames.
He swung the blade towards the creature’s neck, pouring his power into the flames to strengthen them as best as he could. Leaving a crimson trail behind it, the sword cut through the air, and hit the creature’s palm. It’s long, claw-like fingers gripped the blade despite the flames, stopping it just before it reached its neck.
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Midhir’s eyes shot wide open. It was fast. Too fast. He hadn’t even seen its hand move to stop his strike. He needed to pull back, free the sword, and try again, before it decided to just kill him.
Before his thoughts even finished, the creature pushed the blade away. As the weight of the blade suddenly shifted, it threatened his balance. He stumbled backwards, hitting his back against the large tree.
The creature took another step. Colour fully returned to its eyes as dead leaves rained down from above, and even the flesh-like plants died beneath its feet. Its crimson eyes fixed on him, its lips parted. It almost seemed hungry.
Ever fibre in his body, every single instinct he had screamed at him to run. He had to run. To get away. Warn mother, and father, and the Enforcers. He couldn’t fight this – no one could, alone. Without a second thought, he motioned to turn around, to try and circle around the tree and dash downhill.
It appeared before him, its claw like hand gripped his throat and scratched his neck as it pinned him against the tree. A sharp pain jolted throughout his body as he felt a crack in his shoulder. It’s hand squeezed his neck as it spoke again. Words unfamiliar to him echoed in his mind, piercing his thoughts clouded by the immense pain.
He gasped for air. His feet weren’t touching the ground. He couldn’t feel his left arm. His right hand was still grasping something, but he couldn’t remember. His thoughts grew foggier as his lungs begged for air. His chest felt as if it was on fire.
A pair of crimson eyes was all he could see as his vision began to grow blurry and darker. The same words that he couldn’t understand repeated themselves over and over again. He could hear the blood rushing in his veins. His body began to grow numb as the last drops of strength began to leave him.
Where is it?
Words he shouldn’t understand pierced through his clouded mind. In that split second of clarity, he remembered – he was still holding onto the shattered sword.
He kicked the air weakly. The creature’s eyes narrowed with what seemed like enjoyment. It’s lips parted as it reached for his neck with its other hand. He felt it touch him, then it pulled its hand back, now covered in blood. It sniffed it, then licked it, its eyes closing for a split second as it seemed to savour the taste.
He reached within and poured all of his remaining power into the blade. Four gems lit up as he pushed its sharp end towards the creature. Flames danced on the blade, a powerful wind blew from behind, the earth shook ever so slightly, and a soft, calming sensation washed over his shoulder, followed by the sharp pain of a healing resonance.
The creature let go of him as it swiftly stepped back, avoiding the blade and the elements that accompanied it with ease.
As soon as it let go of his throat, he collapsed on his knees, gasping for air. The world spun around him as air finally reached his lungs. Yet, he couldn’t feel relieved just yet – all he did was buy mere seconds, if any at all.
Still holding onto the sword, he raised his gaze, only to be met with the cold, crimson gaze of the creature. It raised its hand, its claws red with blood. Silver mist rose behind it, almost mimicking its movements.
He knew that he was looking at his end.