The moment the door opened, there was a tense inhale, then a roar from the Warden. Vin heard their blade slice through the air, and a heavy swoosh echoed through the small jail. The blow was so fierce that the force extinguished the few candles that lit the penitentiary. There was an abrupt groan of agony, followed by a fleshy thump on the ground.
Vin, endowed with some strange power, sensed a life's end. One man dropped, yet Vin heard an enormous skirmish at the jail's entrance. The Warden's blade didn't stop at one strike but rebounded and hurled more, stealing another life before each following attack was blocked by another blade. Red sparks lit the now-darkened jail, sending loud metallic clunks reverberating throughout the corridor.
Only a pinch of pale moonlight entered the dungeon from the open entrance. With that little light, Vin could see shadows dancing at the head of the jail. He braced himself, his fist clenching harder, his heart now jogging in the tension of who would prevail.
After several more sword clashes, he heard a distressed moan from the Warden and a mocking tone from another. Retreating steps met Vin's ears before the Warden returned to his view, now bleeding from his chest in front of his desk.
Vin grabbed the cell bars, his face drew in intensity, and shouted, "Let me out! Hurry!"
The man's attention was fixed on two armed and armored Ravenours that approached, one already struck on the leg and the other without personal wounds, only the splattered blood of their dead allies. Their expressions were chilling and merciless; that was what Vin expected of all those people, yet there were tones of doubt on the Warden's face. At that moment, in that darkness, Vin could see the man's soul, and the deep ocean and ash gray hues communicated a fear of death. Perhaps not in the act itself, but what he would be leaving behind.
Both of the uninvited guests wore red accents, giving away they were from a different faction, the one that the bastard General belonged to. They rushed the Warden simultaneously, and the older man unlocked his jaws and roared as he dashed forward in a final stand. There was a gross slosh when a long blade pierced the Warden's abdomen, going all the way through. Blood pooled from the wound, robbing the life from his eyes. But not before the man boomed again, summoning the remainder of his strength from something deep within, something personal, and piercing his blade through one of the attacker's hearts. That assailant died immediately, thumping onto the now- slippery red, brick ground. The Warden stumbled forward but caught himself and strived to deliver a killing blow to the last attacker. His incentive to live carried his blade up to the other Ravenour's neck; however, his mastery was hampered by his blood loss, missing a vital blow. While the attack was blocked, the Warden's powerful strike knocked the sword from the assailant's hand. With the intruder unarmed, Vin expected a brisk end; however, the invading Ravenour reached for their weapon belt and pulled out a side-arm dagger, slashing away the little life the Warden had left.
Vin bore witness to these deaths, his eyes squinted in dread, knowing that as a bystander, he would be next. The remaining Ravenour already had an injured leg, so they limped to the cell door and, without further interaction, shoved the blade through the bars. Vin jolted back before the saber reached him, scowling at the man who returned eyes of transparent murderous intent. It truly was threatening, meeting the gaze of someone with such little remorse or hesitation to kill.
That Ravenour walked off, his footsteps indicating he had walked up the steps and left the jail. Vin knew better than to expect mercy, and he was correct because that man returned, dragging two corpses by their arms, leaving a trail of blood.
Vin saw the new butchered, lifeless bodies and grievously palmed his sweaty face while breathing, "Fuck..."
The robust Ravenour, part of the red faction, plopped both of the princess guards who'd defied the General on the ground near the Warden and planted a sword into each of their hands to stage a scenario of conflict. Their death made the state of that town very clear, and Vin was learning that the two factions weren't just at odds; they were at war.
The sole surviving Ravenour picked up the Wardens' keys and unlocked Vin's cell. That murderer limped toward him freely, not a lick of doubt or emotional remorse on his face. He stepped away from the man until his bare back was against the stone wall. Vin's brows arched menacingly, and his fist clenched; an unbridled impulse in his core wanted that person to die. He'd gotten into fights, but he'd never been incredibly violent; nevertheless, at that moment, he wanted to destroy. To burn that man and everything else to the ground.
Vin clenched his teeth, grimacing at the person much larger than him. He raised his cloth-wrapped fist in front of his face, his heart pounding like a hammer forging steel. His adrenaline unlocked his mind, and he absorbed his surroundings. Thinking much faster than at resting, seemingly processing hundreds of thoughts per second.
No amount of forethought provided any hope of winning. After the encounter with the General whose bone structure was so tough his wrist broke, Vin knew he had no chance to win a fight, which meant-
He charged at the limping Ravenour, waited for a hint of their attack, then hurled himself downward out of the trajectory and barbarously dug the tips of his fingers into the man's open thigh wound. The Ravenour groaned aloud, reflexively shifting most of his weight to his other leg. Within that opening, Vin snatched the King's coat from around his waist and threw it over the attacker's head to bide him a distraction to run past and escape.
As planned, the Ravenour's view was obstructed, and Vin bolted for the cell exit, but then, a wide arching slash cut the coat in half horizontally. The long blade sliced it like paper. Vin tried to step away, but he was too close. His eyes fanned in hysteria as his right arm was slashed clean off at the elbow.
Before Vin could express the agonizing, hair-rising pain with a holler, the Ravenour bolted forward with a pained exclamation as he utilized his injured thigh to finish off the young prisoner. That wasn't right; it was inhuman. Vin expected an opening after the brute's leg was injured, but that monster hadn't slowed at all; in fact, he'd only grown enraged, using all his limbs, even his bloodied leg, as if totally unharmed.
That killer thrust his sword straight through Vin's abdomen and propelled him all the way to the cell wall, the tip of the blade lodging into the brick and pinning him. The Ravenour, bleeding profusely from his thigh, latched ruthless eyes onto the young, wailing human who had a crimson river streaming from his lacerated arm.
Vin felt the urge to retch as his face contorted in several shapes of torture. The familiar prowl of death neared, but he wouldn't accept it. His earlier analysis led his only hand to the brute's weapon belt, where he unsheathed the small dagger they used to kill the Warden and stabbed the man several times in the side until he removed his long sword.
Now free from impalement, Vin collapsed onto his knees, groaning in thundering pain. Vin's hopes for a new, content life fueled him forward with the dagger to finish the man off, but the difference in experience was evident. The warrior used their sword to reflect the small weapon from Vin's hand, leaving him unarmed again. It was a losing battle, to begin with, and Vin continued to try to escape the cell. He made it two paces before a grave pain tore through his back, and he crumpled face-first onto the ground. Consciousness was stolen from him for a wink. A second later, he invoked his entirety to compel his eyes back open and rotated to avoid further damage. Tragically, by then, the Ravenour was already plunging toward him. The man was losing bottles of blood from where Vin stabbed him with the dagger, but that didn't stop him from using his red-soaked sword to impale Vin's gut.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
The young human cried out, his life flashing in and out like the shutters of a camera. Any of the two men could have given up at any point, yet neither accepted loss. Vin, holding onto the images of his family, of Lynn, roared and grabbed the Journal he'd left on that cell floor. He withdrew the pen, then stabbed it into the Ravenour's right eye, causing them to recoil for only a moment; nonetheless, the brute ROARED through the pain and drove their blade deeper into the human.
Vin screamed, then gathered the blood at the rear of his throat and spat it into the brute's other eye, blinding them temporarily. Vin then grabbed his Journal, turned it so the sturdy spine was facing out, and bashed it against the pen already lodged in the man's flesh. He slammed and bashed and, upon a final, invigorating outcry, blasted the book so hard the pen soared up into the Ravenours brain.
They died immediately. Vin knew because he felt their wrathful soul leave their shell. The brute's heavy body fell lifelessly onto him, trapping his butchered body. He didn't have the strength to move them; just staying conscious after everything he suffered was an inconceivable feat.
Vin fell still, his body growing colder, and his last breaths exiting while he thought, 'I won?' He wanted to raise a fist in cheer; however, it was impossible.
'Shame. And after being given another chance to live... I guess this life really isn't meant for me.'
Vin's eyes shut. Soon, the purple flame that was his soul abandoned his body and drifted away. That wasn't the first time he had sailed from the mortal plane; he didn't expect the Phoenix to save him a second time. After all, if he couldn't defeat one Ravenour, what hope would there be of him becoming strong enough to enter the Archival Dimension?
Whatever.
Vin cursed as he drifted, returning to the thin thread between life and death and awaiting judgment. After he had plenty of time to condemn the Phoenix and that planet, he realized how slowly he was passing on. Even more, he had a perception of the dark cells around him. Including the smoldering red soul of the Ravenour, he'd just killed.
Aggravated, he brought the fight into the afterlife, floating his soul toward the brute to attack them one last time. Once they collided, the small, purple flame that was Vin's spirit set a blaze upon the Ravenour's core and then engulfed it.
A pulse of pure bliss was tidal waved throughout Vin's impalpable condition. He regarded a trace of the flames that created him and held onto its warmth. Within moments, his soul had utterly consumed the one of the Ravenour man, and Vin felt a mighty blaze overtake him. His human body burst into flames, lighting the entire jail with a majestic dark purple radiance. His body burned down to ash just as when the Phoenix claimed him, and from that ash, he began to reshape. An arm free of injury was forged from the fire, and then his head and torso, and eventually Vin, was birthed anew.
A mist choked his mind for the first few minutes as he lay bare on the floor. The body of the Ravenour that tried to kill him had also disintegrated into ash, but they showed no signs of being reborn.
Vin's bright lavender eyes opened, looking listlessly at the roof of the now-burning jail. He raised his hand toward the ceiling. He was complete; all his limbs were attached, and it only cost the soul of another.
'Only?'
He clenched his fist. He felt frighteningly light. Unweighted, unbothered by the misfortunes of murder. It was surprisingly easy...
Rising from the ground, Vin felt around his new body. "Not a single scratch."
Along with his resurrection came a new perception. As he glanced around the jail, he could see all of the souls of those who'd died. Furthermore, he felt complete control over them.
He roamed over to the corpses that seemed so loud at the time, then communicated with their essences. Once he decided to interact with them, he felt himself sucked into a new reality. His mind was transported to his flower garden dream realm and, with it, six floating souls. It felt similar to when the Phoenix brought him to its home world, the red planet. Those guests had no physical bodies, but Vin could detect their impressions. Not really with thoughts or words, just sentiments by how their cores flickered.
There was unmistakable regret and immense sadness from the two guards who'd encountered him at the river. Vin felt he could mimic the flaming God and restore their bodies as he was, but he wanted to verify something first. He made his power known, expecting a promise of freedom or wealth in exchange for their life, but those souls instead begged. The ones he discerned as the princesses guards bled blue light, each expressing their resolution to live once more to protect their master. Brief flashes of their thoughts revealed that neither man was born with status or great power. They were as disposable as they came, yet the one-winded woman treated them fairly from a young age and took them on as guards. They wanted to live not for themselves but for her. The whole sentiment was so heartfelt and honest that Vin felt guilty testing them. He'd forgotten that, while alien, those were still living people with stories and challenges of their own.
As for the Warden, they, too, strived to live for another. A granddaughter who'd lost everything to war and now only had him to lean on. The other three attacking Ravenours pled their cases, but Vin had heard enough. He burned the assailant's souls, then fed the flames to the two guards and the Warden, granting them a new life.
After everything, Vin reawoke in the jail where he'd been before. All the bodies in the corridor burned down to ash, and the naked bodies of the three he saved rose anew.
The youthful Ravenour roughly embraced the taller, more mature one, crying and celebrating the second chance they were granted. The Warden looked concerned by the floor in flames, but he soon noticed the fires there wouldn't harm them. Vin sat against his melting cell door, curled up, his knees pinned to his chest. He hadn't considered the implications of saving them before but realized he despised playing arbiter. The feeling of ending another existence made him feel sick. That power was unnatural, far too harsh for a human to command.
While Vin fretted, the Warden strolled over to him and kneeled. A compassionate hand landed on Vin's shoulder, and the older man communicated in a way that required no dialog. "Are you hurt?"
Vin shook his head, turning away from the Ravenour. He thought his new life would be short of weakness, yet the overwhelming doubt he'd felt knawed at him, whipping his heart with dark tremors.
The Warden's grip on him tightened, and then the man sat alongside him and exhaled a grave breath. They'd died; it was over, yet thanks to Vin, he had returned to the land of the living to continue his mission. He communicated a feeling to Vin that he planned to change how he'd live out the rest of his days. Perhaps it was just idle chatter to alleviate the pressure.
Their wordless, shared understanding meant only the sounds of fanning flames and sobs echoed through the space. Within the passing minutes, Vin considered everything he'd lost and now searched for. He was no saint who granted miracles; he'd felt bad for the Ravenours, yes, but there was also something he needed. He took a page out of his savior's book, communicating with a whisper of a thought, "A vow, for a vow. A blessing for a promise."
Jazzy unglued his wet-faced friend from his chest, then turned and listened, unsure what he meant. Still, they could all gain the sense that Vin had been burdened and sought something from life just as they did.
Thus, a new, unseen vow was exchanged.