Amaro watched as Raktus was tossed to the snow in a bloody mangled clump. He felt the hands of the Oskuutor press him into the ground, threatening to crush him too. He could not believe it. He refused to believe it.
Raktus was strong. Raktus was resilient. He could survive, he had to. He was going to grow strong alongside the rest of them, and find love. He was going to rescue his other siblings from the mark of the Venator Knight. He had so much left unfinished, and so much more yet to even begin.
And yet, Amaro knew the truth. He knew he would not forget the scream his brother had let out before his death. The very same scream those vile monsters now mimicked in a discordant chorus. He felt the one on top of him pulling his tail, holding him by the back of his neck and threatening to pull him apart. Something deep in his soul was screaming out. As he lay pinned beneath a Malaki while it threatened to tear him apart, he felt an uncanny familiarity.
He hardly knew the person Raktus had started to become. All because of his own weakness. All because he had not cherished the time he had. If he had been stronger. If he had been better. He reached out for his katana, but the Oskuutor grabbed it and stabbed it through his hand.
“I know you find it humiliating-, but you will die- you will die- you will die.” The Malaki spoke in Raktus’s voice, snapping the blade of his sword in two as it nailed his hand to the ground.
Anger flared in his gut. How dare they destroy Lorshiir’s gift to him. How dare they speak with his brother’s voice. How dare they make him watch as they killed him. They robbed Raktus of his future. They had robbed him of his brother!
Amaro pushed against the Oskuutor’s strength. His noble blood pouring down the length of his broken blade. He stomped the ground and flexed his tail as the Oskuutor still struggled to pull it off. Was this another ploy? They could crush him in an instant just like they had done to his brother. Amaro was not that much stronger than Raktus, after all. They wanted more power. They wanted Amaro and his brothers to lash out and feed them more magic. Amaro snapped one of its massive fingers backward.
He locked eyes with Anitus who had also risen up. There was something which resonated in the both of them. At only a single glance, he knew his brother’s thoughts. He knew exactly how his brother felt.
Razor thin steel wire lashed out in every direction, severing the grip of the Oskuutor. Amaro could hear the beating hearts of his brothers. The howling winds were silent. The resonating screams of Raktus were gone.
Stolen novel; please report.
Was this what it felt like to awaken his Ux?
Amaro felt power surge through his body. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Time slowed down, but he had not cast a single spell. He had a near eternity to contemplate his next move while the Oskuutor next to him slowly opened its grinning maw to bite him.
He watched Kaara’s healing water covering Raktus’s body. He was grateful to her for the effort, but Amaro knew it was too late. He walked over to his brother’s corpse along with Anitus. Amaro knelt down, pressing his hand through the warm water. He glanced at Anitus and Tulos. They were not as fast as him, but he knew what they felt. He could see them staring at him. Following his movement with ease. They had awakened too.
There was a voice over his shoulder. A voice for which there were no words, but he understood the meaning. It promised him vengeance. It promised him closure. These monsters wanted power? He would give them power. More than they could handle.
He closed his eyes and gave in to that voice. He felt his body change. His muscles bulging with power, his bones reinforcing. He felt his mind expand, his memories flooding back, racing through his head. He had not made enough of them with Raktus. A strange tranquility quenched the flames of his anger as he stepped away from his dead brother. He looked to the palm that had been pierced with his own blade. How it steamed and mended. He glanced at the Malaki, who still had yet to realize he was no longer there.
That voice told him this power was temporary. His soul spoke to an experience his mind did not remember. He walked to Kaara, lightly tapping his knuckle on the bronze bell. That resonant hum traveled faster than the voices and screams. Faster than himself.
Anitus had walked into position by now. Tulos knew his task too. Amaro watched the waves of raw iron slowly rise from the ground. They clasped over the Oskuutor and crushed them closer.
They had not absorbed metal magic yet. They could not stop it from squeezing them in a tight line. Amaro summoned his magic. One spell after the other, one foot in front of the other. He pulled Quinrai from his back as he walked along the iron walls Tulos had made. He scraped the magical blade across its surface, a low hum resonating along its Galvani silver blade. The very same hum that the bronze bell had made.
Electricity surged in his open hand, gathering and bending into a ball as Anitus stabbed his blade into the ground. He clenched his fist around the lightning, staring straight through the line of Oskuutor. He tossed the bolt like a javelin, and Anitus caught it in his sword. Amaro could see the subtle distortion in the air as thunder tried to follow the light. He jumped backward as Anitus pulled his sword from the ground.
That voice told him one more thing. In that moment he understood. Xiozians do not die. They are only remembered.
RAKTUS CANNON!