Seraphina Pov

I danced with fire all around me, a whip of fire took a nightbeast on my right, a volley of fire bolts flew over my head thinning the charging horde, and Dawnbreaker cleaved through the one on my left. Black blood flew and a bolt of flame flew through the space that the beast had occupied, taking the one behind it in the face and incinerating its head, a burned skull dropping to the floor fangs bared. I sidestepped another claw, the beasts were faster than any swordsman I had trained with but Mr. Germaine, but still slower than me.

That was something that was not guaranteed, Mr. Germaine had made it clear that there was always someone faster, stronger, and that the forces of the Night had beings who would move so fast, strike so hard, heal so quickly, that even a Verain’s inhuman abilities were nothing before them. But…these beasts were so slow, that for now at least I could dance, the flow of my body through sword forms reminding me of the graceful dancers I had once seen. My blade reaped lives as Mr. Beuforlos thinned the horde.

My forward charge turned into a slide as I reached the edge of a carpet set upon the wooden floors, allowing me to slip beneath a trio of leaping beasts, my blade forming a half-moon of silver that struck them all down and coated me in the sticky black blood of a nightbeast. I twirled as I rose, my blade driving back the beasts and allowing me to check on Mr. Beuforlos.

In the moment that I glimpsed him, he had caught one of the wall running beasts that had leapt at him and crushed its skull in his grip, ash, blood and bone falling from his burning fist as his other hand lashed out five burning whips that incinerated half a dozen beasts, all as he stomped the still living head of a beast that had survived being cut into halves by me and crawled for the mage in the back. And then I could see him no more as I leapt from a spin onto the banister of the main hall, a flip from it to the other to avoid a claw and another nightbeasts head was lost. A burst of flame erupts beside me once more, this once seeming alive as it crawls down the stairs consuming the beasts upon them utterly.

Finally perched upon a banister at the top of the main hall's staircase, there is no nightbeast in reach of my blade. Mr. Beuforlos arrived beside me; his robes untouched seemingly by the destruction around us. I grimaced as I knew I was coated in black blood and ash, but my eyes were drawn back to the main hall and the clashing of blades. There Mr. Germaine stood in the center of a pool of blood, nightbeasts piled around against the walls.

He expertly parried every blow and maintained sure footing even atop bloodied stone. A wall of nightbeasts stood at the entrance to the hall jostling each other unable or unwilling to step inside and interfere with the sword fight within. The figure across from him matched him blow for blow and my eyes struggled to follow their inhuman speed.

For a moment I wondered why Mr. Germaine did not simply utilize his magic against the cloaked figure across from him. Then they acted, with a laugh it raised the dark red orb that was in its right hand, and I felt the magic roll off it in a wave as the orb unleashed red tentacles of magic that surged towards Mr. Germaine. He responded by swinging his free hand, using individual fingers to draw silver arcs of energy that drove back or severed the tentacles. The clash of swords never stopped, ringing out as silver drove back a hungering red. Then the figure in black disengaged, leaping backwards while still laughing.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

“Oh, it seems the legendary Germaine is as good as they say, even with a dragon's eye and vampiric reflexes I can’t kill you” The figures voice was clear and mocking.

“Oh legendary, am I? I’d have thought if you’d heard the legends, you’d have brought more cannon fodder” Mr. Germaine remained calm, flicking a few silver blades of energy at the figure, the red orb in the figure's hand flickered with inner light before a red aura seemed to devour the energy blades.

The figure chuckled “Oh we don’t need more cannon fodder, after all, you're just an obstacle, not the main course”.

The figure turned its red eyes to me, pale skin, vampiric fangs in a vicious grin, and a nose piercing. I would probably comment on the fashion choice if it wasn’t clear from his eyes that he was looking at food or a corpse, or both.

“And how exactly do you expect to get past me to her?” Mr. Germaine tried to draw the figures' attention back to himself.

“Oh that? That is easy.” The red orb in his hand flashed a blinding red light. It was only a moment, I knew as soon as the light hit me that it wasn’t an active spell, just light. We were blinded, and I leapt backwards tumbling down the hallway. The sound of stone shattering burst through the air.

I was midair flying backwards when my vision cleared enough to see a giant figure bearing down on Mr. Germaine, his sword used as a lever to deflect its bite, its claw slapping him through a wall, a flash of silver magic shielding him from the impact before the demon chased him. A demon, they had a demon.

My brain caught up to that fact as I was rolling along the floor, I tumbled to my feet and I looked to Mr. Beuforlos, the fireballs in his hands were gone, now he held a singular orb of fire and from it a laser of heat was blasting down into the main hall at the vampire mage. I could tell from the heat blasting back at us and warping the air that down there in the hall there was something stopping that beam from turning whatever it struck into ashes. From in the hall, I heard that same mocking voice “Nightbeasts, rise, hunt, KILL!” and manic laughter as magic spread through the night. For a moment nothing changed, and then I saw it.

The slain nightbeasts twitched, the corpses began to move, and parts dragged themselves together. Necromancy. The dead would rise and hunt the living, uncaring of injuries and death. My mind flashed to piles of corpses in the main hall and the hordes we had cut through to get here, and certainly Mr. Germaine had cut down even more on the route he had taken. Plus, the Nightbeasts outside. We were in trouble, but with Mr. Beuforlos’s fire we should be able to handle the dead.

Then a flash of red light from the hall drove back Mr.Beuforlos’s laser and red phantom-like energies flew from the hall. I watched one lay itself over the rising abomination of limbs and fangs that was forming down the hall from me. The way the energy formed into a runic shape upon its flesh.

“Fuck” I cursed; cursing was bad but… ”Fuck!” I did it again with more feeling. Protective runes. Powered by a Dragon Eye. A powerful magical battery formed from the power of a Dragon and wielded by a vampire mage. Even as an archmage it would take a while for Mr. Beuforlos to burn through all of these, he had to keep the vampire with the eye from casting more. I tried to think of any way out of this. We had two archmages, and Dawnbreaker should be able to sever the runes with ease and cut into the dead. But one mistake and I died.

Mr. Beuforlos and Mr. Germaine were probably okay, they were archmages, they had been in worse situations than this, but…could they keep me alive through what was clearly meant to be a targeted attack with responses prepared to contain and restrain them? My eyes shot back to Mr. Beuforlos, now sweeping his laser across the hall, vaporizing as many of the dead as possible before they fully rose and gained the runes that would render them far more difficult to kill. From afar I heard the roar and laughter of a demon and the sound of wood and stone collapsing. I was going to die.

So why was I smiling?

And who was clapping?

----------------------------------------