“Oh great goddess Igyn, that which bestoweth fertility and the blessing of life through birth unto the mortal plain, how I revere thee. Your power and knowledge know no bounds, and your kindness is as beautiful as your judgment can be cruel. Your refusal to cometh to the calls of your brethren for the sake of us is a never ending gift to humanity, and we will praise your decision to the end of time. My house, and the descendants that come after me will never forget, and will continue to offer tithe and sacrifice for your sake, for your realm lies in the essence of our births. Like how the realm of Wehses is tied to the life-blood of the land, Ehbus to the night, Nitya to the wind, Shigrasil to the sun, and Alysander to war, you are to life itself. And life is the greatest gift of all, for what gives more hope than a newborn son in the arms of a father? What is the love between a man and a woman without the byproduct of the passion they hold for one another? What is perseverance without the need to love, provide, and protect one that is entirely dependent on thee? Man may not understand yet, but family is the most important treasure in this world we share with gods and creatures, and a family united is the most powerful weapon we have against the venomous personalities that plague us…”

– “‘A History of Our Goddess Igyn: A Systematic Analysis of Her Bestowed Knowledge’ by Norgrod Sevada”

Aerith returned to her senses in the chambers of her sister in a light frenzy, unaware for a moment that she had left that scene and the void that followed it. Her chest was swelling as she breathed deep breath after deep breath, trying her best to calm herself as the emotions that had filled her on that cliff began to slowly fade. Aurora looked concerned as she held her sister’s hand and grimaced a bit as Aerith squeezed the color out of her hand. Aerith shut her eyes as tight as she could, but it was of no use, for his face–Ashur’s face was etched into her brain.

Those eyes, those tears… It was as if his emotions became a reflection of my own, but I felt more before that… I know I did…

Before she knew it, she could feel tears pouring out of her own eyes and streaking down her cheeks. Her nose started to get congested, and she broke out into a sob.

“What happened?” Aurora softly asked, “I… I could not see…”

Aerith tried to speak, voids, she wanted to. She wanted so desperately to reveal all of what happened to her sister, about the young men and woman at her side, about the two babies in her arms and the emotions she felt when looking at them, about Ashur and his tears, about everything. Yet when she tried to speak, her voice shaked and cracked from the sobbing to the point where she felt as if she was a blubbering fool unable to keep their wits together. She was crying like a child did, when all they could do was practically pant as they tried to catch their breaths to say something, and failed in the attempt.

“Emotions,” she gasped out, still sobbing uncontrollably, “they are not mine, I–don’t–know–what–happened.”

Aurora caressed her hair with one hand as she wiped the tears away with another, and proceeded to embrace her sister in a warm hug like she would do when they were young, “did you say the name?”

Shaking, Aerith nodded, “it was him, the one from the last vision… Aurora, he looked so sad, so broken… It was as if the wind itself bowed to him, and mourned alongside him.”

Aurora was silent for a moment, soaking in what her sister revealed to her. Ten heartbeats later, she whispered to herself, “so that is why he is protected.”

“What do you mean,” asked Aerith, finally calm now.

“He is the last one,” she muttered, “the last male follower of Nitya, and maybe the last follower with pure Ashmedai blood left. That genocide that started two decades ago ensured that there are only a handful of Ashmedai left on this continent.”

The air was still as they sat with one another in silence. Aerith had read about the genocide on more than one occasion, and while she knew of the reasons that the council gave, she was convinced that they were hiding something. It made no sense how a council full of people who inherited abilities from Ashmedai ancestors would wipe out their own, but maybe she was still too naive to understand why.

Aurora stood up, “I think that is enough for today, Aerith. It is time for me to retire for the evening, for the journey home will be long… I need to get a good night’s rest tonight, or at least try to.”

Aerith stood up as well and walked alongside her sister to the door. Aurora opened the door and as Aerith moved to step outside of her chambers, she felt her sister hug her from the side and give her a peck on the cheek, “stay strong, little sister,” she whispered, “and know that I will always love you. We will meet again.”

“I know,” Aerith replied, “I wish you could stay longer, but I understand. I love you too.”

The walk back to her chambers was a quiet one for Aerith, she could not get her mind off of what she had seen in that vision and it pained her that she could not just simply forget. Ashur’s silver eyes remain scratched into her memory, so much so that she began to feel a mind scattering fear creeping up. She remembered that her betrothed was probably awaiting her arrival in her chambers, like he had said before she entered her sister’s room.

I’m too exhausted to start studying a goddess tonight. I need to think on all that has transpired.

She opened her door to a cold and dark bedroom. The hearth was dead, and the cracked window let in a chill. The moon’s light was all that lit the room, its pale light shining bright enough that she did not need a candle nor the hearth to make her way to her bed.

She could tell by the fact that the window was open that Owin was in here before her. Aerith assumed he was waiting and got either bored or tired and left. As she stripped naked and slipped into her nightgown, she found herself dawdling, staring at the large full moon for a few moments before finally sliding into her bed and nestling herself beneath the warm sheepskin blanket. As her eyes closed, and she finally thought she was going to be able to get a good night’s rest, she felt two pin pricks dig into her left thigh. The jolt from the sting forced her to kick her legs as she tried to squirm out of the bed, but the sting dug deeper until it felt like two hot knives stabbing her leg. In only ten heartbeats, her entire leg was numb. She threw the blankets off with her hands to see a small snake stuck to her thigh. Aerith ripped it off and felt an intensely sharp, searing pain as if she had just ripped off a huge chunk of her skin. She tried to scream out in pain, but the pain was already exhausting her to the point where she could only gasp.

Before she knew it, Aerith was paralyzed on the bed, unable to move a muscle. Darkness began to surround her yet again, and the moon’s beautiful light faded to black. With her whole body now pulsating in a stabbing pain, Aerith’s eyes fluttered a few times before finally closing.

Neirin ran down the hill as fast as he could once the cloaked man mounted on his winged beast. He knew that he could not compromise himself by overstaying his ‘welcome’. He heard what he needed to hear, that Torcall, or what he was called Kibair in that conversation, needed to return to Cyclos and keep watch over the remaining captives. As for the cloaked man, Neirin had seen more than enough of him for many lifetimes. It was not every day, or any day, that one would see a winged creature like that. A wyvern, or that was what he thought they were called from what he remembered of the story his father told him when he was young. Neirin’s father was a soldier in his youth, and had lived in a small town only a few miles from Lunenmouth. Yet, despite being a soldier, he had only fought in one battle, and from what he saw, knew it would be his last as a soldier of the Republic. Neirin thought of that story that his father frequently told when he saw Torcall speak to the cloaked man, for it was the only story his father really had, at least the only one that was of any interest to Neirin. The fire that sparked from that man’s hand, it reminded him of the story of Agossross, and ‘the dragon’.

Running on a decline like he was, Neirin felt like he was running with the wind. ‘I hope the kid made it to Ashur in time. Voids, I hope they make it to me in time,’ he thought. He felt no fatigue as he gave it his all to escape, and he felt confident in the distance he was creating until he turned his head to see if he was being followed. To his horror, Neirin saw the Ashmedai peering down at him from the top of the hill, his shadowed robes fluttering in the breeze, then dashing down the hill in an attempt to catch him. Neirin turned back to face the west towards the direction of Cyclos tunnel, knowing that if he tried to run without looking forward, he would most certainly get caught. He picked up his knees and lengthened his stride to the point where he felt like a gazelle gliding through open terrain, desperately trying to avoid the pursuit of an ironbear.

Holy voidic fuck, he thought as he continued his sprint. He turned once again after about fifty paces to see the quickening Torcall now within fifteen paces of catching him, Igyn’s bitch! Shit!

Turning his head back again, he jumped, thinking that he’d be able to cover more distance by leaping down the hillside, only to instantly regret doing so a heartbeat later. As soon as he left his feet, he felt as if time had slowed down to a crawl. Neirin futilely turned his head around one last time to see that Torcall had now caught up to him, and was now reaching his hand out to grab his collar. As if time had slowed, Neirin shifted his weight down to his lower body and dropped down from his airborne ascent with a speed that was quicker than expected. He felt the brush of the wind from where Torcall attempted to snatch him, but as soon as he landed on his feet, he felt a nasty blow to the back of his skull. Neirin felt a small blackout in his vision before falling forward, rolling down the hill.

With his skull throbbing in pain, he felt like he was rolling down the hill for what seemed like forever until he ultimately landed flat on his stomach. Neirin rushed to try to get back on his feet, but as soon as he lifted his stomach up from the ground, he felt a cold, hard, boot kick the back of his skull into the rather sharp blades of grass beneath him. Neirin blacked out yet again, before coming back to his senses, although unlike the last time, there was no way he would be able to escape now. But, that was when an idea to slow the man down sprouted an idea in what felt like a damaged brain of his. Moving his victim’s head to the side with his boot, while putting pressure on his left cheek to keep his head pinned down, Torcall began to speak, “ah, the bastard rat leader of this city’s gang of urchins. I do believe we have met before, he spoke as if he was reuniting with an old friend, “aye, I remember you… So, why bother me after I paid you that much, huh?”

“That was before I learned who you were,” Neirin grunted from under a boot, “had I known then, I would have thrown your coin back in your face, and then I would have killed you myself!”

“Fool, how much did you hear? Probably enough, I take it?” hissed Torcall, “You’re with him aren’t you?”

Neirin responded by grabbing a sword out of the pocket on his trousers and stabbed Torcall’s ankle through the bone. The man loosened his pinning of Neirin as he shouted in pain and anger. Neirin wanted to grab the knife and try stabbing the Ashmedai again, but realized that there was no way he could possibly reclaim that small blade without getting horribly beaten up.

“You won’t use me against him,” Neirin shouted as he scrambled back up to his feet, but he stood up too quickly and the rush of blood to his head forced him to stagger back down to his knees. He crawled until he was able to regain his footing, and continued to run, “I refuse!”

He didn’t make it five steps before being tackled and hitting the ground again, his face slamming into the cold ground as Neirin heard Torcall’s voice snarl above him, “You do not get to make that choice!” Neirin was flipped onto his back, where he saw Torcall on top of him, readying to beat Neirin to a pulp.

Ah shit, he thought, this is going to hurt.

The first punch connected with his nose, breaking it and filling Neirin’s nasal cavity with blood. The next three punches were in the same place, and could feel his consciousness slipping as the blood in his nose was making it increasingly harder for him to breathe. The next punch was a right hook that connected with Neirin’s left cheek, and he felt a few of his molars crack out of his gums and bounce around the inside of his mouth. Another punch hit him but from the other side, doing the same thing to the molars on the right side of his mouth. His only thought of retaliation was in spitting the blood and teeth up at Torcall. His bloody phlegm reached his face, and after wiping it from his face, Torcall’s rage filled glare was as wild as a predator’s. As he readied to unleash another barrage of punches, he stopped himself as his eyes left Neirin’s and moved ahead toward the bottom of the hill. Neirin heard the howl of the wind, so loud that everything else became muffled, and saw Torcall leap off of him and retreat a few paces back. Ashur came into his vision, panting with his ironsword out.

“Are you alright, Neirin?” he shouted the question, and Neirin was surprised to see real concern upon his brow.

“No, I feel like shit,” Neirin groaned, touching his nose and rubbing his jaw, “I’ve never been in this much pain.”

Ashur gave him a hug, cradling Neirin’s broken face in his hands, “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he whispered, “but I’m here now. I’m here now. I’ll take care of you from here on out, I owe your father that much at the very least.”

Neirin blinked tears, you remember? Did you always remember? Did you know from the moment you first saw me?

“Sleep now. Rest. I’ll carry you home once I’ve finished here,” Ashur said softly, and obeying the command of his leader, and someone he might be able to call friend someday, Neirin fell unconscious with a slight smile.

Seeing that the boy had fallen unconscious so quickly, Ashur was incensed by the beating that was inflicted on him by Torcall. He stood back up, studying the man who would do such a thing. His Ashmedai robes rippled in the intense gusts of wind that Ashur was conjuring with his rage, and Ashur saw blood seeping from his right ankle. The Ashmedai slaver released his sword from its scabbard, a scimitar that looked to be almost half of his height.

“He is a good lad,” Ashur snarled, “there was no need for you to do what you just did to him. But then again, how many good people from this city have you sold? Almost beating a child to death probably doesn’t even satisfy you anymore!”

Ashur could tell that Torcall cared not for anything he was saying, for he responded with a question that was far off the topic at hand, “that sword on your back, is that what I think it is?” The hunger in the eyes of the Ashmedai piqued a certain amusement in Ashur, he knew of Nirvana, the sword must be important to him. Don’t worry, I’ll find out your every secret.

Ashur tensed his muscles and screamed out the rage he was feeling, and the wind began to shriek his name, Ashur! Ashur! He pointed the tip of his ironsword at Torcall’s chest, “I have questions of my own, and you will give me answers,” he growled at the Ashmedai, “but not before I exact my cold vengeance upon you. Come! Give me your all!”

Torcall held his sword up high, and as he growled, sparks of lightning began to ripple from around his body until he exploded in a cobalt-blue aura, “you remind me of someone, and you look like you have promise. But alas, you are far too green to survive this.”

Ashur’s eyes could hardly follow the explosion of speed that came with Torcall’s opening attack, as the Ashmedai shot at him like a bolt of lightning and delivered a downward slice toward Ashur’s head. Using the wind, Ashur propelled himself to the right to narrowly avoid it, and he saw that a wave of blue sparks struck the ground in front of the blade. Ashur’s eyes widened, but he did not have time to gawk because Torcall followed up with a diagonal slash at Ashur. He blocked the attack, but felt a painful shock as he did so, the pain feeling like a thousand needles prickling the inside of his hands and arms, like his muscles had just fallen asleep on him. He grunted as he lifted his leg and kicked at Torcall, but Torcall back stepped to avoid the blow.

Ashur used the wind to enhance his speed, and he shot out like an arrow out of a bow towards his opponent, he launched a thrust at Torcall’s gut, and anticipated the sidestep that he would do. As soon as he saw that he missed, Ashur kicked at the ground and went airborne, following up by throwing several different air cuts at the Ashmedai. Torcall used his speed to avoid them, but was not fast enough to dodge Ashur, shooting himself at him. Ashur used an overhead slash that was easily blocked. Gritting through the pain of clashing blades with a wielder of lightning aura, he refused to stop striking, unleashing a barrage of blows from different angles and forms to prevent Torcall from attacking on his own. He thrusted his ironsword at Torcall only to have it parried, releasing the sword from his grip. Before Torcall could finish his horizontal slice, Ashur rushed into a range too close for the sword and gripped both of his opponent’s arms with his hands. He felt his entire body jolt from a surge of electricity, and Ashur thought that his body was frying from the inside. He had no choice but to emit even more life-spark to flood the foreign spark from his body as he proceeded to clash his forehead with Torcall’s nose, breaking it and sending him staggering a few steps back. Ashur fell to one knee, gasping for breath as his whole body seemed to convulse from the shock.

Torcall’s hand dropped from his nose, and he stared at the blood that was on it in amusement, “I’ve been wanting to take my anger out on someone that can actually withstand it. You see, people die too quickly when they face me, so I feel blessed to have met you today of all days,” he dropped his sword and cracked his knuckles, “now, I’m going to beat you like I did that child.”

Ashur tried to rise, but his whole body was still shaking with a numbing sting. He emitted more of his life-spark in order to rise, but as soon as he rose he doubled over in pain to see a fist connect with his gut. He dry heaved for a split second before feeling a hard set of knuckles crash against his rib cage with a force so substantial that it sent him reeling in the air. Before he could even process what was happening, he was met in the air by Torcall, who unleashed a kick to his sternum and sent him plummeting down to the cold ground. The entire rib cage on his right side was in pieces, and he could not breathe as blood began to fill his lungs. He coughed up blood, but the energy from his life-spark allowed him to rise once more. This time, as he emitted even more life-spark, he was able to see Torcall coming, and stumbled forward to meet Torcall’s face with an elbow, but it did not do as much damage as he had wanted, and Ashur was immediately met with a punch in the nose that nearly broke his and sent him flying fifty paces away. He hadn’t even hit the ground yet when Torcall caught up with his flying body and sent a knee into his back, which sent him up in the air. This time, Torcall let him linger in the air until he fell back down and landed on his back with a thud.

Everything faded to darkness for Ashur, so much so that he thought that he had actually died for a moment, however the pain that he was feeling was so excruciating that he figured that the afterlife would not be this painful. Despite only taking blows to his torso and face, he felt like his whole body was broken. Warm blood flowed from his mouth and clogged his throat as he began to choke on it, and the coughing fit it sent Ashur into removed the veil of darkness and returned him to consciousness. He groaned as he turned on his side and coughed the blood out of his throat, and he saw that the reinforcements had arrived. Mau had caught up to them with Drake, Danel, and all of the militia-men, several of whom bearing torches in the night. Despite his blurry vision, their actions were clear to Ashur, for they seemed to be frozen in shock and fear as they saw their leader bloody and beaten on the ground.

Ashur was no more than two hundred paces from them, his body beaten and broken. Mau gritted his teeth as he squinted through the massive gusts of wind blowing on the hillside and saw the large Ashmedai standing over his brother, his braided hair and robes flowing in the wind, and a cobalt aura engulfing him. He did not want to say that he saw this coming, but Mau knew that going in without a good enough plan was a disaster. Disbelief and anger began to flood his mind as he looked upon Ashur, disbelief in the fact that he would be so utterly crushed so soon, and anger at himself for being right. A slumped body of a young teen was one hundred paces to the left of them higher up on the hill. Studying it a bit closer, Mau saw that it was the boy, Neirin.

Voidic fuck, no wonder why Ashur jumped straight into combat. I can’t help but feel like we are too late, though. Our best bet is to try to get the two of them out of there.

Drake snarled as he turned to Danel, “ready the men for a charge, let’s skewer the bastard!”

Danel looked over to the Torcall and cursed under his breath. He was about to turn to ready the men before Mau gripped his shoulder, “stop! There is no way we can kill him, much less get out of here alive if we attack him head on. If he can beat Ashur, he can beat us. All of us.”

Drake’s face was red with rage as he whispered, “then what would you have us do? This bastard is going to kill our leader!”

The three were silent for a moment while they thought of different ways to drive Torcall back when Danel asked, “what if we were to loose some arrows?”

“That won’t work, there is too much wind. What will we do if we kill Ashur by mistake?” Drake replied.

“If he’s not dead already,” Mau muttered under his breath, “none of you are familiar with the different Ashmedai battle stances and techniques. I’ll go out and meet him in combat, if anything, to try to push him away. Danel, ready as many archers as you can, but do not give them the order to fire. Maybe by seeing archers, we can get him to back away enough for us to get to Ashur.”

“This is a horrible plan,” Drake growled, “if it doesn’t work, you will have died for nothing.”

Mau pulled out his long knife and started to trudge forward regardless, and if we do nothing, everything he worked for will be for nothing.

As he inched closer and closer, he felt himself getting buffeted by wall after wall of intensified wind. Within the gusts, he saw and heard sparks of electricity dance around him. Twenty paces away now, he was close enough to see Ashur’s face. Ashur met his eyes and opened his mouth, as if to groan, ‘stay away, go back.’

Oh how I want to, brother. But alas, I will be damned if I let you die here, Mau studied his friend more and realized he still had not unsheathed the blade from the scabbard strapped to his back. He bit his tongue in anger, and felt the taste of blood swell in his mouth as he thought, damn you, Rhamiel. You forced him to make this promise because you feared that the sword would kill him, but he’s dead if he doesn’t bring it out.

Torcall followed Ashur’s gaze and turned around to face Mau and all of the men behind him. Mau could see the look of surprise on his face, and the bridled anger that started to boil, “you brought reinforcements, Ashur?! You are not as foolish as I was led to believe!”

“Come!” Mau yelled over the wind, “we will end you!”

Great Nitya, guide me. Protect me. Help me protect your final Ashmedai follower, please. I beg of you.

Torcall lunged toward Mau, and like a bolt of lightning, moved with incredible speed in his direction. However, Mau had felt like the wind blowing in his direction had changed course, and was now blowing at his back. He could see Torcall’s every step, and it was as if the wind was nudging his back to push him forward into the fight. Any fear that he had going into this duel washed away, and he darted forward. He saw the look of surprise on his face as Mau came face to face with him, and the look of surprise intensified further when Mau quickly parried the slash that was aimed at his midsection and followed up with a flying knee to Torcall’s jaw.

It was as if it all played out in slow motion for Mau. Having left his feet to reach the Ashmedai’s chin, the wind pushed him forward all the way to Ashur before Torcall even planted on his back.

“Get up!” Mau roared at the still sprawled Ashur, “I don’t care how close to death you are, or how much it hurts, get up! I cannot do this without you, shit, we cannot do this without you!”

“Who are you, boy?” A voice rumbled from right next to Mau. Oh shit, he thought as his eyes widened and he instinctively swung his long knife to his left. The blade was immediately met by Torcall’s scimitar, and the longer their blades touched, the more he felt the shock of a thousand invisible pins and needles digging into his skin. As much as he wanted to release his blade from their clash, it was as if Mau’s long knife was stuck to the scimitar. With a pained grunt, Mau let go of his blade, and the pain stopped intensifying. Mau immediately went to sweep the Ashmedai’s legs, but Torcall jumped over him and flipped to the other side of Ashur.

Torcall cocked his head in confusion, “I see no resemblance of the Ashmedai to you at all, and yet the wind goddess aids you as well? Why is that?”

Mau bared his teeth, “my mother taught me of the old ways. Oh how much shame you must be living in, the old gods must be weeping in rage at you for what you are doing tonight.”

Mau’s words were like a thrust through Torcall’s heart as he staggered back several steps. His glowing blue eyes trembled in rage and sadness as he grabbed his own heart, “what do you know of how they feel? If they knew what I went through, they would understand more than anyone!”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” Mau asked, trying to hurt him emotionally even more now, “is that what you told yourself when you did whatever you did to his mother? She was the last Ashmedai of that tribe! How your brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins–”

“Silence!” Torcall roared as he clenched his fists, “there was no other choice!”

“There is always a choice,” Ashur croaked, “even in the darkest of times, when it seems like we have no other choice but one, it is only because we are not looking hard enough. There is always a choice!”

‘Child of the wind,’ Ashur heard a whisper in his mind, ‘use me, use me. I thirst for the blood of this one in particular, and I hunger for life-spark. Give this to me, and you will be able to keep your life. I sense it, and I know you do as well, you will not live through this night if you do not draw me from my scabbard.’

Ashur had no choice but to agree and relent to the demands that Nirvana related to him, and so he sat up, able to prop most of his weight on one knee. He did not see Rhamiel, and he knew that he would be dead if he continued holding back his greatest weapon. However, he did not have nearly enough life-spark to use this weapon and survive. Most of it had been drained just trying to withstand these hits he had taken, and the flame in his heart felt like a mere spark at this point.

The flame is dying, Ashur thought weakly.

‘I will not touch you, child of the wind,’ the sword hissed in his head, ‘I want him.’

Ashur felt his broken ribs grinding together as he lifted his arm up to reach his back, and the pain forced him to gasp and hold his breath until his trembling hand weakly gripped the handle behind his head. Sliding Nirvana out of its scabbard felt almost too easy, like a hot knife cutting through butter, and as soon as the blade was in front of him, he began to feel the opposite of what he normally felt when wielding this sword. The ache in his muscles faded to a dullness, and he felt numb to the pain in his ribs and back as his opal sword’s piercing scream shrilled through the night air. Torcall and Mau were buffeted back by the sound and effect that this blade had, releasing wave after wave of explosive wind energy.

“That is it, alright. Nirvana, the legendary sword of the lost followers of Nitya,” Torcall said as he picked up his sword and performed a bow for Ashur, “I am sorry for what I must do, young one. For the blade to not devour you as of yet, tells me that you are worthy enough to carry it. That is precisely why I must kill you,” he looked at Ashur with sad eyes, glassy in their emotion, “I am so sorry. The shame I carry for killing the last of your tribe… It will be carried for the rest of my life, but I have no choice.”

Ashur did not say anything, for he was too afraid that if he so much as moved a muscle, the pain would return back. He actually found himself thanking Torcall for stopping to talk, since it gave Nirvana more time to piece his body back together. His silence seemed to perturb his opponent, since Torcall’s sadness turned to frustration, “you have nothing to say to this? Fine! Let us end this!”

Torcall let out an anguished cry and then erupted in an explosion of cobalt colored flame, sparks spiraling around his body like an aggressive yet protective veil. Yet, as soon as he emitted his life-spark, Nirvana’s screaming stopped and its hilt began to glow and sparkle. Ashur felt increasingly reinvigorated as his broken rib cage quickened its pace in mending itself. With the rekindling of his life-spark, and the help of this sacred blade, Ashur emitted his own life-spark with a single exhale, the wind on the battlefield howling his name in a vicious chant. At Ashur’s explosion of aura, he noticed Torcall’s weakening, and saw his legs begin to wobble as well as his arms tremble and start to falter. The Ashmedai looked at his own sword with a frustrated confusion and proceeded to emit even more aura to try to regain strength, but Ashur felt his opponent’s emitted life-spark fill him with vigor. The pain that was preventing him from breathing now only felt like a mere tickle, and while he was feeling his own life-spark being eaten by Nirvana as well, he felt that the opal blade was only nibbling his aura while devouring Torcall’s.

Torcall launched himself toward Ashur, and Ashur focused his life-spark emission into his eyes so that he would be able to better track Torcall’s movements. It was something he knew he should have done earlier, but he did not expect another emitter to be faster than he had been able to track with his naked eye, and the fact that he was a follower of the lightning god Raiden was even more unexpected. The only emitters he had ever fought or trained against were his mother, a follower of Nitya, the god of war Alysander, and the Dreadbird, one of Alysander’s followers.

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The world around him slowed, but to Ashur, Torcall’s movements were as fast as he could react within this state. Ashur met Torcall’s scimitar with his own, blocking his blade with Nirvana with a grunt. Upon impact, there was no feeling of electricity pricking underneath his skin, something he attributed to a benefit from Nirvana. The sword screamed as it began to vibrate on its own, and the air began to distort around the clashed swords. Torcall’s eyes widened as he stared at the sword’s violent shaking and backstepped a few paces back, but it was of no use. Nirvana released a wall of wind that exploded with a loud crack in the air in Torcall’s direction, lifting him off of his feet and sending him flipping fifty paces before landing on his back. Ashur sprinted towards his tumbling body, the wind roaring at his back and building his speed to where he effortlessly galloped those fifty paces in three heartbeats, and tried to bring down an overhead slash down onto the sprawling Torcall’s skull. The Ashmedai blocked it, but the wind from the slash grazed his head and severed his right ear. Torcall screamed as blood spurted out of where his ear once was. Ashur followed up with a downward horizontal slash, but as this one was blocked, the wind cut deep across Torcall’s forehead. He noticed that Torcall’s aura was dimming, and with each cut, he was losing significantly more aura than the last one. Blood was flowing from the gash on his forehead into his eyes, and with the last of his electric sparks fading away, Ashur knew that this duel had been won.

‘Good, he is where we want him,’ the steely whisper of his sword echoed in his mind, ‘finish him, child of the wind. Avenge your mother, avenge all that he had taken from me–from us.’

The thought of his mother forced him to raise Nirvana high in the air, ready to unleash another barrage of blows. In the midst of the wind swirling and roaring around them, it was startlingly quiet for Ashur. It was so quiet to him that it was as if he could hear a leaf float down and touch the earth.

“No,” Ashur quietly replied, “I will not kill him here, not yet.”

‘No?!’ Nirvana hissed at him in a sound reminiscent of iron clashing against iron, ‘are you a fool? How do you expect to follow the dream you have if you cannot kill a man responsible for such injustice?’

“I never said I would not kill him,” Ashur answered, “I just said I will not kill him here tonight. He must answer for his crimes, and I have questions that need answering as well.”

With a clean swipe, Ashur severed Torcall’s hands from his wrists. His blood curdling screams filled the silent air as blood burst out his wounds, his hands plopping down onto the cold ground and his scimitar dropping onto his chest. Ashur motioned for his men to close in around the fallen Ashmedai, and grabbed a torch from one of the militia men. To stop the bleeding, he proceeded to cauterize the wound by holding Torcall’s bloody wrists over the torch. He continued his screams until he fell unconscious from the pain.

Ashur began to place Nirvana back into the scabbard strapped to his back when he began to feel the pain of the fight flow through him once more.

Shit, it will be for the best that I keep this sword out of its sheath for now. At least until I fall into Rhamiel’s arms.

“Where is Rhamiel?” Ashur winced as he used Nirvana as a crutch, using it to hold all of his weight just to keep him standing, “she is not with you?”

Mau looked down, “we did not tell her where you were. I thought it best for her to stay back at home for this fight, for we did not know how dangerous it would truly be.”

Ashur weakly nodded, “aye, that sounds like it was for the best. I don’t want her to know that I had to break our promise yet again, I want to see her smile, not scowl.”

Drake appeared from his left, and wrapped Ashur’s arm around his neck as he took on most of his weight, “you should put that sword away, doesn’t it slowly kill you when you wield it?”

Danel chimed in, “aye, Vavut died just to resurrect you after using it!”

“If I put it away,” Ashur whispered, “I fear I won’t survive the journey home, or at the very least I will not be conscious,” he turned his head toward the hill where Neirin’s body was lying, “and besides, he needs healing far more than I do right now. I can wait.”

Dyserich and Moreling were standing there silently before jogging up the hill over to the boy and studying his current condition, “tough little bastard, he’ll live,” Moreling shouted down below. Moreling slung Neirin over his shoulder and walked down the hill, “where are we hauling him off to?”

“We’re going to follow the city line all the way to the Bonegate farms, then we head North towards the forest overlooking the city,” said Mau, an amused look slowly etching across his face as Moreling’s reaction to that twisted his round flat face into one of disgust.

“Ugh, we’re going to have to take turns carrying this little bastard out of here,” Moreling groaned, Dyserich rolled his eyes in response.

“And what do we do with this bastard?” asked Danel with a growl as he stared down at the unconscious Torcall, “why did we spare him?”

“Because we still need answers, I need answers,” exclaimed Ashur, “we need to know if there are any others kidnapped around the city.

Slung over Moreling’s shoulder, Neirin mumbled something that caught Ashur’s attention. Confused, Ashur had Drake help him walk up to the beaten and bloody face and whispered, “what did you say?”

“Cyclos tunnel,” the boy mumbled again as if he had just been woken up in the middle of a good sleep, “people… Imprisoned in Cyclos…”

Ashur ripped part of his battered tunic off of his body and wiped the blood from Neirin’s face. Much of it had dried on his face, giving his look a dark shadow in the night sky, but what was still oozing from his nose was cleaned up. “Thank you,” Ashur whispered to him, “We are going to take you to Rhamiel, you’ll get better soon with her. You have done everyone a great service, my friend.” Ashur could have swore that he saw Neirin wince a smile, and it made him feel good to see that.

When we get home, we’ll talk about your father. I promise, now I really owe you that much.

“Drake,” he ordered, “I want you to go to Cyclos and free the people lying in the tunnel. Bring some men along with you, we do not know how many people Torcall had guarding them. Danel, is there a jail in Bonegate?”

Danel nodded with a grin and a chuckle, “aye, sir. How do you think we kept a semblance of order?”

“Good,” Ashur replied as he pointed to Torcall, “have him bound in chains or rope and send him there. I will speak to him in the morning.”

Danel saluted before proceeding to tend to Torcall, and Drake looked over to Ashur, “are you sure you don’t need my assistance? You can barely stand as it is.”

Mau came over to them, “I’ve got him, Drake. No need to worry.”

Drake sighed as he unwrapped Ashur’s arm around his neck and rested it on Mau. He gave a salute to Ashur, ordered some men to come with him, and walked off into the night.

“Come on, brother,” Mau grunted, “let us go home.”

Rhamiel anxiously awaited the arrival of Ashur and Mau. She sat atop her cot wide awake in the middle of the night with trembling hands and beads of sweat on her brow despite the cool night air. She begged Mau to let her join them, someone might have needed her help, but the angered look on his face scared her into obeying him. She had never seen him that angry before, frustrated like this could have been avoided but it was out of his hands now.

What could you have done to change anything, Mau? There are only so many of us, and roughly a third of us are women and children. And with the amount of tunnels in Tyrus, we are spread thin. There is no avoiding that, and there is no helping it either. Time was of the essence if Ashur wanted to catch that man before any more people were taken from us.

Two hours earlier, Rhamiel felt a cold shiver running down her spine. There was only one thing she could relate to the cold she had felt, and that was death itself. She could sense that Ashur was in danger, and that while death had not taken him, it was fast approaching. She had to take sharp breaths for a few moments before the feeling resided, and ever since it faded, she awaited his arrival. She had no idea whether or not he was alive or not, or what state he would be in should he return. A knock on the door made her exhale as if she had been holding her breath all night.

Thank the gods…

Rhamiel walked over to the door and opened it to see Ashur leaning on Mau in front of her, his bronze skin looking clammy and slightly gray in the moonlight. In his right hand supporting the rest of his weight, his mother’s sword was being used like how an old man would use a cane.

“You promised me you would not use her blade,” she scowled as she crossed her arms over her chest, “put that away, it is killing you!”

Ashur faintly shook his head and she was surprised at the anger Mau directed toward her as he hissed through panting, “voidic fuck, Rhamiel, shut your mouth! It was because he kept his promise to you that he is in this state in the first place! Damn it all, it is because of this sword that he is alive in the first place.”

Rhamiel could feel the color leaving her face, and she felt weak just by staring at Ashur’s pale face, because he kept his promise to me? You mean, I am responsible for this?

“Because of the sword? How?” Rhamiel shakily asked as she trembled, “I have only ever seen it hurt him…”

“You will find out… When you heal me…” Ashur quietly wheezed, “but not yet… He needs your help first and foremost.”

Mau led Ashur into the hut and to his cot with a grunt, obviously struggling with the weight after all of that carrying. After laying him down on the cot, Mau slowly walked to his own cot and collapsed into it. He loudly groaned, “how am I even still alive? What the fuck happened tonight?”

“No void-fucking idea my friend,” Moreling called out with a grunt from a few paces outside her door. She peeked outside to see him and Ashur’s friend Dyserich lugging an unconscious boy with dirty blonde hair, the dried blood on his face looking like black face paint in the silvery shine of the moonlight.

“Honestly,” Dyserich grunted as they carried the boy inside, Dyserich holding his shoulders and Moreling his feet, “We thought you were dead when you stepped up to face him, Mau. Did he even lay a scratch on you?”

“Not one,” Mau grumbled with his head buried in his pillow. He turned his head to the side to face them and said, “I felt some shocks and tingles clashing my blade with his, but that was the worst of it.”

“You sure you do not have any powers like Ashur?” Moreling asked as they placed him on the empty cot in the back of the hut, “with all this recent talk of gods and the like, seems like one was definitely aiding you.”

“I am as normal as any of you,” Mau said as he stared at the ceiling, “but aye, I did pray to a goddess before jumping into that… I asked Nitya to guide and protect me as I went to save her last true follower.”

“And she sure fucking did help you,” Moreling muttered as he turned to Dyserich, “we should all start praying to her if she’s out here blessing normal people like us.”

Dyserich stroked his chin, “aye, we should. Can’t hurt at least, right?”

Rhamiel walked in between them and placed a hand on Neirin’s heart. He winced at the very touch and she interrupted their conversation, “I need silence, you lot. If you’re going to talk, please do it outside where I can’t hear you.”

The two looked at each other as if one was more responsible than the other for annoying her, then walked out of the hut and gently closed the door behind them. Closing her eyes and emitting her life-spark, Rhamiel was able to see how badly beaten Neirin’s face was.

His nose is completely shattered, his jaw is fractured, and his skull is cracked. It’s a miracle he has not bled internally to a fatal extent yet, the spark in his heart is so dim, like it is ready to flicker out. Ashur, I have not examined you yet but I feel like you were right to prioritize him right now.

Her flame engulfed him and began to breath life back into his heart, and there she was sent into his memory from this night.

Rhamiel was sent into his memory, as he tailed an Ashmedai up a hill toward the forest in the East. From there, she was able to look down and see the river. Old gods bless her, she could see the whole city from the height and distance. Feeling his thoughts and emotions spike with dread, she snapped her head back to him and saw a massive beast lurking within the shadows of the forest. The bright fire only showed a glimpse of the malice in this monster’s eyes. Its bared teeth were the size of daggers as it stared down at the Ashmedai speaking to the middle aged man in front of it.

‘Is that a dragon?’ she whispered to herself as the two hooded figures spoke to one another. They began to speak about how Ashur was a follower of Nitya, but she only half paid attention to that. If Ashur had returned to her then it meant that he had handled the Ashmedai known as Kibair already, and she already knew that from the way that Mau and the others were talking about the night.

What drew her attention was a whisper from Neirin. His voice echoed in her mind like a hiss as he whispered, ‘Rhamiel, please. Listen to what they are about to say…’

She was not surprised at all to hear his voice. She was in his consciousness after all, and the more one was healed by rekindler, the more that their bond and connection to one another in this realm of consciousness grows stronger. Should she heal him only a few more times while he is at the brink of death, he will form his own corporeal form in this realm. From her sole experience going that far, it has worked with Ashur. She has healed him so many times that when she touches him in this realm, it is as if she can feel him in real life. She started to ponder how their bond will build in this next healing encounter when she is finished here.

‘Rhamiel, please! Focus on this!’ the voice almost screamed in a whisper.

Startled out of her thoughts, she focused on what they were saying, ‘Leave the captives underground and move them out of Cyclos when the Dreadbird and his host have tamed this city. Is that understood?’

She froze at this, ‘the Dreadbird is returning?’ her hands trembled at this thought, ‘oh no, this is bad… This is very bad!’

‘You’ll have to tell him yourself, Rhamiel,’ Neirin whispered, ‘his host is returning to Tyrus. How do we know they’re not already on their way?’

‘Aye,’ she said as she bit her lip, ‘if we don’t immediately start preparations, this city is as good as dead.’

As she was conversing with Neirin’s voice, she saw the hooded man climb up the creature’s scales to a mount. The beast rose on its hind legs and spread its arms, only she realized it was not arms.

‘Wings,’ she whispered in horror, ‘old gods protect me, is this thing actually a dragon?’

She froze as it looked as if the beast and its rider glared directly at her, ‘no, it cannot be possible,’ she screamed, ‘those eyes, can they actually see me?’

‘No,’ Neirin whispered, and she heard a shudder in his voice as he said this, ‘they are staring at me.’

Not wanting to see anymore, Rhamiel yanked herself out of the memory, her hand flinching off of Neirin’s forehead as if it was as scalding hot as an actual fire. She felt a bone-chilling fear when the beast locked eyes with her.

No, they may not have seen me… But something within that beast, dragon or wyvern, was actually staring at me. It was like I was staring into the abyss, and the abyss was staring back at me. The void, the cold empty blackness… It is truly alive once more…

Neirin opened his eyes, and grunted as he sat up, “I felt your fear, your thoughts…”

“Speak of this to no one… What you saw and heard tonight must remain a secret for now,” Rhamiel whispered.

Neirin pouted, “people need to know that the Dreadbird and his host are returning to Tyrus.”

“I agree, but that must be news that Ashur must break,” she replied quietly as she turned to him. He was unconscious in his cot, and despite his deep slumber, Nirvana was still firmly gripped in his hand.

“How are you feeling?” she asked the teen. Despite the black stains of dried blood on his face, his nose looked like it realigned, and the swelling in his face from the blows he took had faded. There was a bucket of water in the hut underneath his cot, and she tore a piece of fabric from her own clothing and dipped it into the water before cleaning his face with it.

“I feel… Much better. A bit sore where my teeth were knocked out, and my nose feels a bit funny, but I feel much, much better than before,” he said as he rubbed his jaw and touched his nose with a sense of relief, “Rhamiel, thank you again. I feel like I am continuously in your debt.”

She smiled at him, “that is very good to hear, Neirin. With what you did today… If we make it out of this mess alive, you’ll be considered a hero.”

Neirin's face winced as he tried to grin, still rubbing both hands across his jaw where he was punched repeatedly, “no, I’m no hero,” his eyes traveled over to the passed out Ashur, “I just… I really want to talk to him. He knows about my father, he told me he knew. I served him tonight because he had been dangling that information over my head like a carrot in front of a starving urchin, yet he called me friend and promised me that he would talk to me when we both get out of this.”

Rhamiel straightened her back, her smile fading as she adjusted to the seriousness that this conversation had turned into, “closure. You seek closure more than anything. It is as if you are stuck in the mud, unable to move unless you think of your father, and the conflicting emotions you have working for the man who killed your father is something that both stifles you and pushes you forward.”

Neirin closed his eyes and looked down, and to Rhamiel she saw him for who he truly was: he was still a child. One who, while has been matured by the world and circumstances he was put into after the life of happiness and comfort with his father, is still just a child. It saddened her, but she understood it.

I have seen your past before, and I have seen the thoughts and emotions you have had to deal with.

Rhamiel gave him a nod, “Okay. I am in no position to say whether you can or cannot speak to him after he is healed. If that is what he promised you, and if that is what you seek, then it will be done. I only ask that you go outside for a moment while I heal him,” she looked over to Mau, his face still buried into his pillow, “and make sure you bring him too, I need to be alone.”

“Because you love him, Ashur?” Neirin whispered with a smile. Rhamiel shot him a look of surprise for a moment, before remembering that he had seen her thoughts and emotions too. She chuckled, “you know me well too, I won’t deny that. But it’s also because I don’t know how bad he will be once I pry that cursed sword from his fingers. I will need the utmost privacy. Will you do this for me?”

Neirin nodded and she took a few steps back to allow him to hop off of the cot. He walked over to Mau and nudged him awake with his hand, “Mau, we need to leave the hut for a moment.”

Mau groggily moaned in response, and Neirin kept on nudging him until he thrashed out of his cot in a frenzy. By now, Rhamiel was already staring at him from Ashur’s side, and she knew that by the dire look in her eyes, Mau instantly understood.

“Let us know when it is time to return,” he muttered as he grabbed his pillow and started to walk out of the hut with Neirin. As they were walking she heard him say to the teen, “good job, how are you feeling?”

“A little sore, but I’ll live,” Neirin grunted as he opened the door. The door opened to her, seeing Dyserich and Mau sitting out and facing the farms further down the hill. They turned around and as the door closed behind Mau, she heard them giving their respects to Neirin. She smiled, for the boy had truly deserved the praise.

Though he won’t be able to brag about the deeds that truly make him a hero, he will be considered one among me and Ashur. A true unsung hero.

Rhamiel placed both of her hands atop Ashur’s, and she felt the warmth of his hands. She didn’t know if it was his warmth, of the warmth of his blade, and that concerned her. His hands were locked around the handle of his sword as if it were an actual appendage, an extension of his hands. Prying them off took a great amount of strength and effort on her part, and by the time the blade was jarred free from his hands and hit the floor in front of her, she was panting and sweating. However, as soon as she had done so, she felt his hands go ice cold. The bitter chill that she had felt in her soul earlier tonight had returned, and was growing ever colder.

This blade was keeping him alive, slowly feeding him life-spark to prevent his death when he had used all of his up. But he wouldn’t have enough life-spark to end up in this state and still survive if he had survived a fight against an Ashmedai… Did it devour that Ashmedai’s life-spark as well?

The cold was getting to the point of numbing her whole body. Having rekindled his flame so many times, she had no idea what would happen to her if he died. Would the cold fade if he did, or would she die with him? She wasn’t going to gamble on that chance. Rhamiel stripped herself of all her clothes with quite a bit of difficulty since she couldn’t feel her fingers. She was so cold that even the brushing of the fabric of her clothes against her skin felt like pins and needles. She could only imagine how Ashur felt, who was now beginning to spasm and grind his teeth in agony. She removed all of his clothes and embraced him in a hug on the cot. He was in a far worse shape than when he had first arrived to see her. Back then, he had just used up his aura and was close to death, now he could die at any moment since she took away the one source that was feeding him life. Or maybe it was the same situation, but her connection with him had simply grown with each healing like it had in the other realm. She pressed one hand against his frozen chest and placed another across her heart and ignited her flame.

There were no memories for her to see with him, for their connection was far more potent than that. They were where they have been for years now, in a room of white hot light. He was right in front of her, looking down at her with his glowing gray eyes that she frequently swam in.

He smiled at her, “did I die yet? I felt so cold, as if death had already gripped me in its ice cold embrace and taken me to what lies beyond.”

Rhamiel shrugged as tears fell down her cheeks, “I don’t know, I never truly know until we wake up and I see you smiling down at me.”

“Like I am right now?”

“Like you are right now.”

“Stop crying, please? You know I hate to see you cry,” Ashur pleaded.

“And you know I hate to always have to heal you at death’s door, why not for a scrape on the knee or something lighter than the brink?” snapped Rhamiel as she wiped the tears from her face.

He gave her a hearty laugh, one that sounded like warm gold to her ears, “you know that can never happen with me, it’s a surprise you haven’t gotten used to who I am yet. But alas, I love you for that.”

“Before you get me to blush,” she started, “there are some things we need to discuss first.”

His smile faded as a concerned look etched onto his face, “Neirin… Is he alright?”

“You can sense everything in me like I can with you, so you should already know,” Rhamiel replied.

“I know,” Ashur answered as he stared deep into her eyes, “but I choose not to. I will feel your feelings without hesitation, but your thoughts… They should belong to you. And also, what is there to really talk about if I just say I know everything you’re about to say already?”

She smiled at that, for the respect he gave her in valuing her privacy was something she cherished him for. Even when she went against that trait of his and knew everything he says, thinks, and feels, he still chooses the opposite when it comes to her, “I got to him first, as per your wish,” as she proceeded to shudder, “the Dreadbird and his host are returning to the city… to ‘tame’ it… And to make matters worse, that Ashmedai slaver isn’t the leader of the operation that is to kidnap and transport our people. It is someone far, far worse. A man riding a creature of the void, whether it is a dragon or wyvern… I am not sure. Ashur, the man is a life-spark emitter as well, and his creature… Something in it stared directly at me when I viewed Neirin’s memory.”

She felt a sudden chill and goosebumps wash over her whole naked body, and Ashur hugged her. She thought her revelation might make him tremble in either rage or a fear like hers, but feeling his emotions, he was incredibly stoic, “you… You knew all of this?”

“No,” his voice vibrated on her cheek as her head pressed against his bare chest while they were locked in an embrace, “not all of that, but it is nothing for me to worry about yet. If the Dreadbird is coming with an army, then that means that they can help me with the war to come.”

She looked up at him, her eyes widening as she could not help but search his memories in his eyes, “you–you found information in a crypt of the Sun King,” her voice began to shake as she trembled, “a war with the Phantom Folk… Old gods, the void has been awakened for centuries!”

Ashur gently brushed the tip of her chin with his index finger as he softly spoke, “we’ll find a way to survive this. Not just you and me, but everyone. I won’t let this city fall. I swear on my life, it will not fall while I draw breath.”

“And what if I awake and you’re gone?” Rhamiel asked, “We still don’t know if this is the end or just another tale of me bringing you back from the brink?”

He rolled his eyes as he chuckled at her question, “I think we both know that I will. It’s too early for me to die. That sword might’ve almost killed me, but it won’t let me die. I know that for sure now.”

Rhamiel hesitated, “I apologize about that promise I forced you to make. I didn’t know the state you would end up in if you didn’t use it.”

Ashur shrugged, “It was a good promise to make at the time. I was too weak to freely use it, voids I’m still too weak to properly use it. But I’m going to have to use it, and get acclimated to it if we are to survive.”

“Do you really think the Dreadbird will join your cause?”

Ashur pondered at that, “I’m not sure. But he will either do so, or die. Like I said, I will not let this city fall.”

She felt the warmth in his chest rise in temperature, “I think you are all healed up, my love. You were right all along.”

He kissed her and whispered, “Let’s stay here a little while longer. I like the warmth, and avoiding all responsibilities to the outside world in this realm of a seeming infinity with you is a dream I never hope to leave.”

Rhamiel blushed in his arms as they fell into another kiss as they laid down.

In no time, the thousands of black Ashmedai forces clad in pale green crystalline shields and spears had learned the basics of the phalanx formation he had taught in Tiarmotae a few days earlier.

They’re quick learners, he thought, but this won’t be enough. Not against a god of war. I haven’t even seen the bastard and I’m already sure of that.

They were still training when the screaming began. The screams deafened his ears as he heard the combined screech of a thousand men filling the dense air. He hadn’t even had enough time to react before the group of five hundred he was overseeing shifted their attention to the source of those cries and entered formation. Before he knew it, they were charging forward. Being at the back of the army of Ashmedai, he stood there as still as a tree as he watched the wave of green light move like a wave towards the threat.

He knew he should have retreated back to join up with his men, but he found himself following the light of the Ashmedai like a moth drawn to a flame. His morbid curiosity had taken hold of him, he had to see what a god in action was like, and if his tactics would be of any help.

“Oremir!” he heard Valan cry out, “What are you doing?!”

“Find your way back up to Tiarmotae right now!” Oremir called out in response, “I’ll follow behind you, but I need to do this! I need to do this!”

He heard Sindri voice a curse in the darkness, but then he saw their lights head in the opposite direction of him.

Good, set the way for me, men. I won’t be too far behind. I just need to see for myself what Ereph meant when he said I would want the power of his god.

Alysander crashed into them like a tidal wave. He had no idea where he was, and his powers felt dulled like a flat knife, but that just angered him more. He had been searching for these Ashmedai for a while, but it seemed as if there were more than who escaped in his attack last night. The thought that he was fighting an enemy with an amount of numbers that would never dissipate filled his head with a rage. His biceps flexed as he lifted his greatsword, a blade that was less like an actual human sword and more like a large hunk of carved metal, and swung it as he cleaved men in two by the dozens. The crystalline blades and shields they bore glowing with the shadow of black blood splattered across them. He emitted his life-spark, and the very explosion of it was enough to turn a thousand men into a bloody mist surrounding him, their last cries one of intense fear and excruciating pain before dissipating. The incoming legion of glowing shields and spears came in a formation that was not new to him, but he knew that it was new to them. The front row of Ashmedai that numbered in the hundreds launched their spears into the air in his direction, and he narrowly dodged all of them. A few grazed his exposed quadriceps, and he felt the faint hint of exhaustion after the dodge.

This is a first… I’ve never been touched by this before, and now I’m beginning to feel the light breath of exhaustion sooner than expected. Fuck.

As the Ashmedai in the front retreated to the back, Alysander knew that now was his chance to charge them. He bolted at them once more and emitting his life-spark as he swung his blade, Alysander unleashed a blood red slash that cleaved the entire legion in two. Heaps of bodies collapsed to the ground in pieces, however their weapons did not break, only showing knicks and cracks. He went to charge at the next oncoming legion, but felt a huge wave of exhaustion wash over him as he tried stepping past the fallen weapons.

Voidic fucks, all of you, he thought as he roared at them, these damned weapons are a blight upon my mission to exterminate the vermin you are!

Seeing a mass of glowing spears and shields charging him in the distance with great speed, Alysander’s rage only deepened.

Oremir watched in absolute horror as he witnessed legion after legion of Ashmedai die before his eyes. He had seen life-spark emission before in Lunenmouth. Being in the presence of a council member like his father and Arshuc made him privy to the ability and the immense power an emitter can possess. However, this was a different breed of it entirely. He had never seen emission from a god before, much less one that specialized in combat. Explosions from his blood red aura shook the very foundation of the settlement and rattled the ground the mere human stood upon.

He was witnessing this god jumping from legion to legion like he was shot out of a trebuchet, landing in the center of each mass of five hundred to a thousand men and eviscerating them with a single explosion of his aura. Now, it was up to the Tiarmotae regiment he had helped create to sacrifice their lives. Oremir felt sick to his stomach, and he knew it was time for him to retreat.

Run, I need to fucking run.

Dropping his shield and clutching onto his spear, he turned around a bolted in the opposite direction of his charging legion. By the time he got to the slope on which to climb after his comrades, he heard a massive thundering pound on the ground, but no screams. Thinking he killed them all already, Oremir snapped his head back for one last glance at the men he had trained, and was shocked at what he had saw. When he turned around, he saw that his men had avoided the god entirely, dodging his plummet and shielding themselves from his explosive aura with a faint shadowy haze that only appeared in the darkness through the lights in their arms. They had built a perimeter surrounding the god, and closed in as one.

Oremir continued to climb, but he heard no screams, only the piercing shriek of a clash of a sword against a shield or spear, and the continuously growing rage in the god’s roar. As he climbed with immense speed, the speed of one frantically running for survival, he realized that he had caught up to his men in no time.

“Sir?” Valan asked, surprised that his leader was now right next to him behind the rest of the men, “how in the abyss did you catch up with us so quickly?”

“CLIMB! Climb for your lives!” Oremir screamed out, “after he kills our legion, he’ll follow our lights next!”

Valan turned down to see what Oremir meant and he choked on his words before whispering, “sir, they’re still fighting the bastard!”

Oremir snapped his head around for a quick glance to see that they were still indeed fighting. Roughly a hundred men had fallen, but that was surprisingly good for the short amount of time Oremir had seen the god wipe out thousands. Of the living, he could only see their spears and shields darting around with incredible speed as they avoided slashes and thrusts. It looked as if the god was finally tiring from his massacre, Oremir thought that perhaps he had emitted too much life-spark, but even still, his speed was enough to make it seemingly impossible for the Ashmedai down below to even kill him. He stared down in awe for a moment as he watched them fight and die with no fear, then he went back to frantically climbing his way back up.

They’ll buy us a good amount of time. It might not be enough time to make a difference, but we have to keep climbing. Keep climbing…. Ereph, you have piqued my interest. If I am to survive against this maleficent god, I am going to need the power of yours. All of my men are going to need it, or we’re all fucked.