‘He kissed me!’
For once, in a long time, Natravi was flustered. She was thankful for her wood-brown skin that hid the evergrowing blush. She rubbed her quivering lips and resisted the urge to lick them.
Fortunately, the sight of Luvrit: badly bleeding, wheezing and unconscious shook her away from pursueing those thoughts. She glanced up at where her uncle was thrown and released a sigh of relief, she didn’t know she was holding, when she saw him stand up.
‘At least he is okay,’ she thought.
Natravi dusted away some of the dirt off of Luvrit before ripping away his old bandages. As she struggled with his wrappings she noticed her uncle making his way over.
“Why are you ripping them?” he asked.
“Because he is dying. I can’t leave him like this. W-we owe him atleast this much.”
“Hmmm,” he whispered. Natravi looked up just in time to see her uncle give a nod.
“Uncle?”
“You’ll need water to clean it,” he said, making his way over to Karl’s unconscious form and procuring a flask.
‘What did he mean ‘hmmm’? That wasn’t his agreement ‘hmmm’, could he see me blushing?’ her thoughts were running amok and would’ve continued down a hole if he hadn’t interrupted.
“Focus on keeping that blood in.”
“Y-Yes.”
“Did you clean your hands?”
“No, thank you.” She accepted the water and scrubbed vigorously before resuming her work. It was weird…she didn’t know why she was helping him, she felt like she needed to. Once again she felt a small flare of anger rise within her when she realized how easily she’d been swayed away from her teachings. He still had a way past her defences, he could still manipulate her.
Her work was slow as each movement was a small skirmish on its own, thanks to all the fighting she did beforehand. By the time she’d ripped the last wrappings Drac came over with a pouch. He knelt opposite to her and poured some water onto his flowing wounds. She immediately tried clearing off any of the dirty water away from the wounds.
“Use fire,” he instructed.
Her confusion must’ve been showing on her face since he took her hands and placed them over the wound, just an inch away from Luvrit’s skin.
“Use, fire.”
She looked for that thick blue thread and fixed on the thick light tube until it omitted the words she needed. While she read those words, a tingling sensation began spreading over her hands, continuing until a soft sizzling noise rose from beneath them. Almost immediately she felt its effects. Her breathing became more rapid, her body shivered as she broke in sweat. Her chest felt heavy, but no matter how hard she tried to breath fully her lungs refused to let her. They ached too much.
Meanwhile, her uncle kept guiding her hands over a writhing Luvrit. Grasped by the arms, she was led over wound after wound until most of his skin looked red and puffy. It would scar, of that she was certain, but for the moment she sighed in relief at the clotted wounds.
“It’s alright now, let it go,” uncle Drac said soothingly. She looked down and realized that she was gripping Luvrit’s clothes in her shaking hands. She immediately let go in slight embarrassment that never made it to her face, and waited until her hands stopped shaking.
“I am alright,” she said.
“Can you stand?” he asked, extending her a hand. She responded by grasping it and following him up. “We’re leaving.”
“Alright,” she felt content. She wasn’t running away. She wanted to leave because it had nothing to do with her. She wanted to tell herself that it was pointless worrying but looking at the man she’d gone out of her way to save made her stomach weak. She wanted to leave, he didn’t have anything over her. “But your sword?”
“It-”
“Hello~ Everyone!” That familiar, irksome voice cut over his words leaving Natravi annoyed. The voice reverberated through the cavern, announcing itself to everyone by the wind that blew through the enclosed space.
Looking over at the edge of the cliff, jutting out in the middle of the field where the undead seemed to be coming from, Natravi could barely see the announcer. Squinting, she could see a woman wearing a shiny black armor, making her way down. She was falling down, with her hand clawed into the cliff.
Natravi could see the flow of magic within the cave shift to the sides, causing the undead to move along with it, splitting the line of soldiers to clear some ground in the middle. The woman landed with a flip and bowed, as if putting on a performance.
“Oh, what a lovely audience. You’re so~ ni~ce.”
“Natravi,” her uncle spoke. “This doesn’t concern us. Let’s go.”
“Natravi~, I~ see~ you~” the woman cooed. Uncle Drac looked her way questioningly but before she could answer he grumbled something inaudible and lifted Luvrit over his shoulder before walking towards the exit.
“We don’t need to be here Natravi, she is taunting you. Do not let her.”
She gave a quick glance before following her uncle up the stairs. They never made it to the exit.
Before uncle could take the last step he suddenly dived off the stairs, narrowly dodging a sword that disappeared into the tunnel above.
She looked back with narrowed eyes and tried locating their attacker. But before she could her uncle pulled off the stairs, away from the sword that would’ve pierced her. From her uncle’s arms she looked up and saw him nod towards the shadows of the half tunnel she’d run in before to save him. Now it was to save herself.
They were currently in the shadows of the stairs so she hoped that the flowreader couldn’t see them as they made their way towards the tunnel. Natravi gave a quick glance at where uncle Drac had left Luvrit, hidden behind the shadows and rocks, before catching up. When they reached the beginning of the glowing rocks she noticed Drac hesitate, no doubt considering leaving her with Luvrit. But she wasn’t having it and it seemed she showed it in her expression since he relented and motioned her along, after he’d looked her way. They ran over to the open-sided tunnel, past the glowing rocks and began walking, half-bent, through the space. She hoped it led to where the flow reader was.
“Wait,” he said. She obeyed and watched with interest as he rummaged through his pouches before procuring a few purple herbs. “Eat.”
She silently accepted the purple stalk and chewed the foul tasting plant before forcing it down her throat. Her mouth burned from their juices and that burn carried down her throat until it warmed her stomach.
“Wh-*Cough*Cough* what will it do?” she asked.
“Give you strength…an hour at best. More than enough. A lot can happen in one hour.” He seemed to be reassuring himself more than her. He quickly shook out of it and led them onwards. Since the walk was very slow she stole glances from time to time, watching the walking flesh and bones beneath intensify their efforts to gouch, bite or kill the men.
‘The flow-reader must be getting desperate,’ she thought. ‘We can win this if he’s getting worried.’
The soldiers had created a turtle position, with their varying circular shields, that allowed their spear wielding comrades a clear shot at the hearts or heads of their enemy. The undead began to climb over their soulless brethren in hopes to break from the top. She felt her breath hitch as she watched with bated breath at the first screams. However, for as long as she saw it, the men held strong, and it was only until Drac motioned for her again did she take her eyes away from the situation below.
“Ahhhh!” the first man screamed. She quickly looks down and saw a man being pulled out from the middle. He was holding his neck, a wound no doubt sustained from their bite, and crying in pain while his comrades stabbed him dead. They quickly threw out the body, toppling the undead before pushing them back.
“Hmmm,” uncle Drac grumbled.
She didn’t realize she was lagging behind and was about to cover the distance, until her uncle yelled. She responded without thinking and only saw the glint of steel stumbling back. A small dust cloud covered her vision, likely due to the sword piercing the wall beside her. When the dust settled she realized her mistake; that sword had cracked and crumbled the path between her and uncle Drac.
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“Get back Natravi,” she heard him shout before another dust bloom blew out and cut him off.
“No!”
“Awwww, does little Natravi have a suitor~?” that irritatible voice asked from behind.
‘Dammit, I forgot about her,’ she silently cursed. Looking back, she saw Cleo making her way over with her swords drawn. Her own hand went to her sheath before she realized that she didn’t have her sword on her anymore. It was still stuck on the duke’s back.
“Oh my, no sword?” even in the darkness Natravi could see her Cheshire smile.
“Natravi, here!” Her uncle shouted. She looked back and saw a thin, long knife clatter between her legs. “Just...survive.”
“It’s okay!” she shouted back. She slowly picked up the knife, her eyes never leaving the incoming Cleo. “I’ve fought her before, I can defeat her.”
‘But it will be hard to do it here. I can’t do it like this.’ Her robes were only midly stretched and constricting of her movements when she tried to bend in the narrow space, during a battle in such a narrow space would only mean her defeat. Not only that, but because of her small height Cleo only had to duck slightly to fit in the tunnel which gave her a clear advantage. She needed to get out of here.
“I’m making my way over Natravi,” she heard uncle say before another booming sound indicated another sword piercing the wall. Hopefully missing him.
“Uncle, the undead are more important here. Stopping them wil decide if I survive this, so please stop the flow reader!” She said.
“Ooh, uncle?” Cleo said. “I was always a sucker for breaking up families, say how mad do you think he will be if I kill you now? Madder than when you killed her father?”
“Her?” Natravi frowned.
“Oops, wasn’t supposed to say that. Hehe, come one let’s see how you handle yourself with that beard-cutter.” Cleo thrust out one of her sword but Natravi deflected it with her ‘toothpick’. She lunged in for a stab but Natravi had already jumped off the open sides.
‘A few seconds at best,’ she thought. Her eyes scanned the threads before her and grasped the purple one. She read the first few words before speaking the rest off of memory.
“[Fulgur telam]”
The blue tendrils worked their way out of her hands and slowed down her fall with only a little strain on her hands. Fortunately, the undead she’d connected the tendrils to began to spasm and smoke and were burnt black by the time she touched down so she didn’t have to deal with them.
“Hey, no fair!” she heard Cleo yell before she leapt after her and smashed into the ground in a crouch. The undead began to make their way over towards her but before she could attack Cleo interrupted by yelling; “Get back! She is mine! Give me what you promised girl, or I’ll tell everyone what you did here when I get out! Don’t think I can’t!”
After a moment of unease, in which Natravi prepared to take on the incoming undead, the corpses let up and moved away. They created a clear circle for them to fight in while focusing on the men now holding their final stand atop the slope.
“THIS IS IT BOYS!!!” A voice boomed from the slope which she suspected belonged to Strompf. “YOU M**HERF*C**RS BETTER NOT THINK O’ RUNNIN’ ‘CAUSE I’LL KILL YA MYSELF IF YA DO! LET THE MONSTER COME! WE’RE YIKENSMEN, THE WORTHY GUARDIANS OF ANSDROVEA. HOOOAAAH”
“““HOOAAH”””
“Ow, owe~” Cleo winced as she touched her ears, “They’re so loud~, but cute that they think they can survive this.” Cleo gave her Cheshire smile. “Now that we won’t be interrupted, I. Can’t. Wai~t. To ki~ll you~. Hahahaha.”
While the orange haired woman was occupied Natravi carefully brought down her dagger and cut a long slit at the side of her robes, freeing her movements. However, what she missed was that Cleo had seen her distracted.
*Clang*
Natravi jumped back and brought out the knife to block Cleo’s cross-strike. But her the orange haired vixen wasn’t done yet; she followed up with a kick placed at base of her sword. Knowing that the steel was useless against her armor Natravi quickly spun around to barely avoid the attack. She jumped back, being careful to avoid getting swept into the rushing undead behind her, to create some distance between them to be able to read the flow.
“You ca~n’t,” Cleo said, noticing her actions. She closed the distance by leaping towards her and midfight swung her sword at her neck. Natravi paid it no heed, instead, focusing on finishing the words. When her sword met her dagger Natravi whispered;
“[Parva Fulgur]”
Tendrils of purple lightening began to move up from where she’d gripped the dagger, imbuing the blade with an orange hue, latching onto Cleo’s sword. It took less than a breath for the tendrils to spread across to Cleo’s armor. She immediately fell and began writhing in pain, hacking and spasming like a fish out of water. Natravi used this opportunity to descend onto her for a stab at her neck, the only part exposed.
However, Cleo suddenly curled to the side, barely dodging her stab. The dagger easily dug into the ground and lost its orange hue as smoke arose from it. Before Natravi could yank it out, Cleo grabbed her hand and stared up at her with her most cat-like smile, causing a shiver to run down her spine.
“GET BACK,” her uncle’s voice shook her out of her shock. She pulled back, narrowly dodging the kick aimed for her head, however; she was still struck across the cheek, with such force that she was thrown back several feet.
“Awwe, what’s wro~ng Vi~?” Cleo sang as she stood up. Natravi looked up and saw her armor move like to fluid, to cover her face, till it solidified into a helmet. Her armor lost its metallic black shine and was soon replaced by light grey. “Was I really that good? I dabble in the arts from time to time.”
Natravi pushed herself and climbed up to her feet, ignoring the flames of pain that emanated from her bruises. Giving her cheek a slight touch she hissed. Something was broken and like before none of it showed outside.
She wiped the sweat out of her eyes and looked around for a weapon. That was when she found herself in the worst possible predicament: she was out of reach of anything proper, she had enough strength to use the flow two more times but without a proper medium she would only end up hurting herself, and she needed the blade to conduct her spells because using her hands would mean permanently damaging her fingers so she couldn’t use the weapons, laying just out of reach, afterwards. She knew Cleo would kill her before she even reaches one.
“Suka Blyat!”
Natravi whipped her head to the top of the cliff and saw Drac struggling with something atop him by the cliff’s edge. The creature looked to be a black version of the monster she’d seen near the mausoleum.
“Oh ma~n,” Cleo said looking at where she was staring.
‘This is it,’ she thought.
“She’s gonna be done before m-”
Natravi used this chance to run at Cleo. On her way she grabbed a rock lying around and aimed for her hand. If she could steal her sword Natravi could have an even footing in their battle. She needed to get that sword. However, as if expecting her, Cleo turned around and smiled, settling in a stance to strike.
‘You’re not the only one expecting this,’ Natravi held out her palm and whispered the prepared flow; “[Caecae Lux]”.
A quick flash. An instantaneous moment of bright light, leaving no mark but the circle of red on Natravi’s palm, gave her the opportunity she was looking for. She swung at her arm and the rock crumbled upon impact. Cleo’s hand trembled with the hit, but she did not let go.
She pulled back and before Natravi could react, caught her squarely on the chest, knocking her on her back.
“Agh-” she spat. The spray of blood fell back on her face and she knew she’d lost. Her wound had reopened and from the pain she was sure some more ribs had broken too. Natravi felt the vibrations of the undead subside until only the sound of her footsteps remained. Soon Cleo’s face came into view. She’d expected her to be beaming with happiness, at winning, but she could only see disappointment and soon her face was replaced with her uncle’s.
“Is that it,” she said with his face. “This is where you get up and tell me that this wasn’t all you had, right? …Ugh, so disappointing. Bye~!”
Cleo smiled, displaying all her teeth as she brought down the sword.
“YAAAAAAAH”
A large approaching shadow drew their attention. The distraction was a welcome opportunity, she shouldn’t have stolen a glance, but seeing her uncle impaled at in a monster’s hand stop in her tracks.
“Get away from her!” he yelled. They fell out of her sight and raised a dust storm so large that it consumed her completely.
…………..
“Where am i?” she said to noone. Natravi looked at the unfamiliar sight before her, trying to get her bearings. One moment she was struggling on the cavern floor, surrounded by corpses, and the next: she’s standing in what appeared to be an old stone bedroom, filled with roses.
Her attention was immediately drawn to the woman sitting before her. Even though it was nighttime outside the fair-skinned woman continued to stare out, completely ignoring what she’d asked.
“Excuse me, where am I?” She tried again. Something about the way the woman sat made her uneasy, all the signs were telling the pale skinned woman was dangerous. ‘It’s best to approach with caution.’
“Oh. You are real?” The woman asked getting up. When she turned around she frowned. “Or are you another abominable hallucination?”
“…” Natravi couldn’t believe it. She looked just like her, almost to the point of being an exact copy. Only thing that was distinguishing them was that she was wood brown coloured, not fair white.
“Another hallucination, huh?” the woman said, suddenly losing interest. She turned back around and sat down to continue looking out the window.
“I-I’m Natravi, who are you?”
“What does it matter? You’re not real,” The woman said, uninterestedly. Natravi slowly turned towards the door behind her and cautiously turned the knob. It was best to leave, the woman didn’t seem hostile and even if she looked like her she needed to get back. Her uncle needed her.
The door creaked loudly as if it hadn’t been used for a long time and suddenly Natravi found herself being pinned against the wall by the door by her dobbleganger. She tried to breaking away, surprised that she was completely healed from the wounds of the battle, but even her best efforts only gave her and inch.
“You are real, you wear my face but…you are real,” she spoke with wonder, a smile forming on her lips. Natravi dug her fingernail into her hand but it didn’t even register on her face.
“What are you doing?” she managed to chock out.
“I have been stuck in this room for years. I want to see outside. I have a family that I have to check on and since your real and you’re…here,” she gestured with her hands. “I’ll need your permission to leave…so would you please let me get out of here?” she was all smiles but her tightening hand didn’t betray her intentions.
“Alright, you can go-” *Cough*
She fell into a coughing fit as the woman released her.
“Thank you. I suggest you relive your memories; it’ll pass the time.” she said. She walked out the door, making it disappear after her.
“No, no, no,” she threw herself against the wall. She tried scratching out the stones or finding any crack to get her fingers into but it was all to no avail. The image of her uncle, impaled through the stomach, kept flashing in her mind. She felt her legs shake and eventually give out.
…Natravi tried, she tried so hard to keep it in…but she couldn’t. She had to let a tear out. She’d never felt so defeated. She knew she was weak but she’d worked hard to grow strong despite that. She’d spent years trying to use her weaknesses to her advantages…and where did that lead her? Toyed by an opponent after two fights and completely decimated by a complete stranger. She hated herself, it was all her body’s fault not her own. She was trapped and didn’t know how to get out. So she did what she couldn’t do in public, infront of her fiancé or uncle: she wept, finding no comfort in the closed walls laughing at her weakness.