Iris laid Serhas’s body down and stood back up, her flames filling the corridor with light. She knew then what she had to do. She looked up to the prisoners with her brilliant blue eyes filled with the fire of determination. “Come on then,” she told them and turned to lead them out.
She led the group down the corridor, marching with pride and determination. Soldiers started to pile into the corridors, shouting orders to the prisoners and their fellow hybrids and readying them for combat.
“These beasts think they can just erase us,” Iris told them, her voice full of rage, “they think we are not even ants beneath them. However, they have forgotten we, a band of broken and scared slaves, pushed them back and cast them into oblivion. And we will fucking do it again!”
With a howl, Iris lunged towards the soldiers and with her divine power tore them apart, burned them to ash, and broke their defences. Faster than the eye could catch, she tore the soldiers apart in a display of blood and flame that would paint the stone corridors. She became what they feared. She was the reaper of their sin; the one mortal who would end them and their campaign. A brilliant display of fire and death, a being of light stained red with blood.
With one group down, she pushed on as another group lined up for the defence. Her flames howled and rang, the sound of the flames singing like an ominous song. The soldiers shook under this display of pure and brilliant power but readied spears and shields against the furious Iris.
Iris smirked. Hybrid versus hybrid. There really is some curious justice about this. “You wanted war, now I am the war,” she shouted to the soldiers.
Iris’s vision blacked out like before and the outlines of the soldiers shone with a bright white light as their movements froze in place. She ran towards them, but she wanted them to fight. Her wish was granted as once she neared, her vision cleared and the booming sound of thunder filled the corridor, knocking the soldiers backwards.
Iris looked to her hands and saw sparks of white lightning dance through the flames and fade away into the fires. There was more to this power that she was slowly learning.
She took her opening and reached for one of the soldier’s spears and ran him through the stomach with it. She then broke the pole and ran the sharp broken end through the soldier’s neck.
She felt another soldier behind her prepare his spear for an attack. When he ran towards her, she turned to the side and guided the spear into the chest of another soldier who howled in pain and trapped the attacker’s arm in hers.
A sick idea came to her. She snapped the man’s arm upwards and squeezed until the broken bone protruded from the inside of his elbow as he screamed in agony and desperately tried to reach for a dagger on his belt. She took the broken arm and shoved the broken bone into the man’s neck, piercing his jugular with the sharp bone.
As the bleeding soldier fell to the ground, Iris reached for the dagger on his belt and turned to the other soldier with the spear sticking out of his chest. She pushed the spear all the way through him as he screamed. She then ran the dagger through the bottom of his mouth, sealing his mouth shut as part of the blade reached deep into his skull, rendering him silent as he hit the ground.
Iris turned and watched three more soldiers drop their spears and reach for swords on their hips as they shook in fear. “Now then, anyone have any dumb ideas?” Iris growled, trying to lure them into attacking.
One soldier turned and ran towards the prisoners with his sword held high. Iris growled and the man’s movements froze in her vision as she ran towards him. She grabbed his head and time resumed with a thunderclap as she threw the man’s head into the stone wall, crushing the skull as it exploded like a melon.
Iris watched the limb body fall to the ground as she picked up a leather whip from the corpse. She turned to the other soldiers and growled. “Preferably not that dumb,” she mocked as she unfurled the whip and white flames ran down the length of it.
The prisoners cheered her on all the while with war cries of their own making. Even with their bodies and souls broken, their hope shone as brilliantly as the white flames.
Two soldiers left standing, quivering in their armour as they watched the ‘witch’ in all of her glory. They were more than terrified. They were told that Arylos was the monster, but this girl is just as dangerous.
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They dropped their blades and turned to run. Iris felt disappointment and lashed out with the burning whip, moving as fast as lightning itself. The force was strong enough that the whip landed and nearly took off one of the soldier’s legs in another clap of thunder. She made another lash and the other soldier’s head was torn in half between the nose and mouth as both defeated soldiers fell to the ground.
She walked up to the still alive soldier who was trying to crawl away. Iris set her foot down on the back of his neck and struck with all of her strength as the crack of the soldier’s neck rang through the corridor.
Iris looked up and found that she had reached a reinforced wood and metal door at the end of the prison corridor. With a mighty kick, she knocked it off the hinges and entered a vast hall. The walls bore red and black banners of foreign design and hordes of gold and various treasures strewn about with a large cushion at the end of the hall. Openings in the stone ceilings showed the moonlight night now starting to turn blue and yellow from the approaching dawn. In this great hall, not a soul stirred, as if fully vacant.
This must be Oldalthur’s hall, Iris thought to herself. Sleeping amongst a horde of gold with the prison of his slaves within earshot to hear their cries seemed to fit the draconic lord. The lack of any soldiers may mean that Oldalthur took all of his warriors to fight Arylos.
Which means the dragon’s nest is undefended.
Iris moved all of the prisoners away from the prison door and reached out with her hand. She felt her power surge in her veins from her heart to her palm as brilliant flames erupted from her arm.
She was in control now.
She poured all of her strength into the flames and they shot forward like a hot jet of white-hot power in a deafening blast. The roar of searing flames filled the air and singed the hairs of all witnessing, the light too bright to look at yet too beautiful to look away.
The flames took hold and even began to melt the stone walls in a red hot liquid. The prison, the hall, the whole fort will be no more by the time Iris gets through with it; the cursed gold included.
She led the prisoners out the hall and followed several more corridors on the way out, lighting each pathway ablaze as she went. She took the prisoners through a long corridor that went up and had light at the end of it.
The group finally made it to the end of the corridor and found themselves outside in the brisk and cold night. The prisoners took in the fresh cool air and some even laid down in the dew-coated grass.
Iris ensured everyone got out and fell to her knees on the cool grass, her flames burning much of it away. She could rest, but the fight was not yet over. She had to get everyone to safety; anywhere but here.
She looked to the east, still darkened by night as the sky of the mountains began to turn yellow, but from the brilliant flames burning the mountain fort and not the approaching dawn.
But Iris saw something strange; a dawn approaching the west, the air carrying a bright yellow and red hue to it. As the light began to approach, she saw a familiar shadow shrouded in flames with burning red eyes and a longsword on his shoulders shrouded by red flames.
Iris felt she was dreaming and could not stop more fresh and hot tears coming down her cheeks. “Arylos!” she called out, her voice cracking as she said his name.
Arylos dropped the longsword on his shoulder and ran towards Iris. Right before he approached her, he fell to his knees and scooped her up in his arms, holding her tight with his own tears streaming down his face.
“Iris! You’re okay!” he cried, refusing to let go of the girl. The two burning inhumans shared a tight and weeping embrace as their flames began to combine into a soft and gentle hue of purple.
“I knew you would come,” Iris told Arylos, burying her face in his chest.
Arylos stroked her hair, trying to soothe her. “I told you I would always be here, didn’t I?”
The purple flames around the two began to fade as they returned to their normal selves, including Iris with her brown hair and eyes although now red with tears. She felt that she had run out of tears for a lifetime by this point.
Iris looked up at Arylos and saw that he was covered in blood, but crimson unlike his own. “What happened to you?” she asked Arylos. “Did the soldiers fight you too?”
Arylos shook his head. “Don’t worry about them; they have been rendered silent.”
Bellona approached the duo after inspecting the prisoners. “I hate to break off so sweet a reunion, but a fight will be coming this way very soon and these people need to get out of the way.”
Arylos stood up, finally letting go of Iris. “She’s right, Oldalthur is coming this way.”
“He’s still alive?” Iris asked, wondering how Oldalthur could have survived this whole time.
“Arylos shoved his sword in his eye and he has a broken wing now,” Bellona summarised, “but he’s pissed and is trying to make it up the mountain. Arylos here practically set fire to the entire mountainside during the fighting.”
Arylos nodded and then turned around and reached his hand towards the longsword he dropped. The air hummed with a deep rumble and the sword, as if of its own free will, flew towards Arylos’s hand and he caught it with ease. He then gave the sword to Iris, revealing it to be Helion.
“So let’s finish this nightmare while we still have strength,” he growled. Iris nodded and took Helion in her hand and white flames erupted from her body and her hair turned silver and eyes blue as before.
In the distance, they could hear the howl of the approaching dragon, ready to end this here and now.