The torrent of rain cascaded over her, drenching her armor and cleansing the blood from it. But the stink lingered, along with the guilt and sorrow.

How did it come to this?

“Leave.” A single command, a lone plea, sharp and firm. It wouldn’t be enough, she knew; they rarely listened, especially Thuri.

The others hesitated, but remained where they were standing, grasping their Animartas. Brave of them, but also foolish. Only pain awaited them here.

Thuri scowled, shaking his head. “Step aside, woman. This isn’t about you.”

Beside her, Faven growled. “Don’t speak to my wife in such a manner, Thuri!” He tried to rise, but his bleeding right leg buckled under his weight.

She looked at him in concern, her heart tearing at the sight. How long had they been fighting? When she got here, he was already bleeding.

“Why do you defend her?” Thuri said. “She’s a plague that has to be eliminated.

Faven gritted his teeth. “Without her, we’d all have died before we can finish our mission.”

“Without her, the demon king wouldn’t have risen and destroyed my country!” Thuri stabbed a finger in her direction. “And now she possessed the same power! She must be killed!”

She tensed as Faven whispered into her mind, Run.

With a roar, he surged on his feet, his greatsword appearing in his hand in a dazzling flash, charging at their former comrades—their friends—all in an attempt to protect her; she who sacrificed everything for the same man now laying down his life for her.

“Stop,” she said weakly. But her plea fell on deaf ears, and the only sounds were the clash of steel amid the rumble of thunder.

Stop. This had to stop. No more deaths. Please, no more deaths!

She raised her Animarta, black as night, curling with shadows that clung to it like smoke—a stark contrast to Faven’s brilliance. Different, opposite, but drawn to each other like a moth to the fire.

She couldn’t let them snuff out that fire.

A scream, raw and rage-filled, tore from her lips. She charged, swinging at Pantos’s neck. He looked surprised, and a measure of guilt passed over her heart. He was the kindest among them, the voice of reason that kept them from descending into squabble over the little things.

But he was no longer a friend; he attacked Faven. An enemy. And she would eliminate her/his/their enemies. She would hurt/defeat/kill them all!

And so she swung and lunged and weaved between the elements raging around her, a fury in her heart that could not be quenched until all of their enemies were dead and Faven was safe. Safe. Safe. She would keep him safe, even if it meant she must become a monster.

She didn’t know how much time had passed. All she knew was Faven’s cry of agony and the blade protruding from his shoulder, held by a victorious Thuri. What happened? She was protecting him, so why was her beloved bleeding still? Why, why, why?

“Arabella, cease this madness!” Damir, brave and just Damir, pleaded.

What madness? She looked at him, his hammer locked onto her sword. He was strong, but he could never beat her. They all couldn’t, so they bullied Faven instead. A mistake that would cost them dearly.

“Arabella, please!” Damir pleaded again.

She didn’t respond. Talking, diplomacy, kind words—they were past those now, a threshold they had willingly crossed. And for what? Because they feared her? Envious of what she and Faven shared?

“Arabella, do—“

Beautiful, the way the red ran down her blade, the way his eyes widened in fear before his head rolled across the muddy ground. Igra wailed, the poor girl who couldn’t kept her eyes off Faven—the whore. Perhaps she convinced the others, seduced them to harm her Faven.

“Bel!” Faven shouted.

She blinked as she sailed into a tree, splitting it. But there was no pain, only confusion and rage. Who dared attack her? Who dared tear her away from her beloved?

“Bel, please, stop this.”

It was… Faven. And his sword was pointed toward her.

She cocked her head to the side, blinking. Why? All she wanted was to protect him. Didn’t he love her?

“Calm down.” He took a cautious step forward. Behind him the others, what was left, cowered in fear. Thuri held his Animarta limply, but remained standing, blood tricking down his right arm.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Its scent, intoxicating. She inhaled deeply and rose to her massive feet, her tail brushing the trees. That scent, she wanted to taste that. The sweetness, the saltiness.

She took a step, then another. Faven lowered his Animarta. He smiled, reaching out with a trembling hand. “It’s all right, Bel. I’m all right. You don’t need… You don’t have to fight anymore.”

His voice was soothing, like a lullaby. She didn’t have to fight anymore. Didn’t have to kill anymore. They could finally rest, the two of them. Settle in a faraway land. Live a happy life.

Just the two of them.

His palm was extended. Crouching low, she reached out with a clawed hand and took it. Warm, despite the chill of the raging storm. Faven was always warm.

Thuri shifted, his grip tightening on his Animarta. He roared.

“Thuri, no!”

And she roared back.

***

The memories flooded, unabated, unchecked.

Nox was back in his village, lying in front of his ruined home. The blood was still fresh, the fires still raging, consuming everything he had ever known.

And the Remnant still had the torso of his sister in its mouth.

The creature was an unsightly thing, a nightmare made real. All muscle and strength, with only thing in mind: to kill, to devour, to destroy.

He couldn’t do anything. When it emerged from the forest, he couldn’t stop it from killing the Chief, the guards, his parents who screamed for him and his sister to flee while they throw themselves into its path. He couldn’t do anything to stop the blood from flooding the streets, couldn’t stop it from tearing the flesh of everyone else.

Because he was weak. Useless. Powerless. If only he had the strength, if only he had the power, even for a little while. Power to ignore the pain on his back where the Remnant had gored him. Power to return the pain tenfold, a thousandfold.

The power to destroy.

It barely caressed his mind, but the voice was unmistakable. The voice from the cave.

Do you want power, human?

Yes!

Do you want to become power?

To destroy this monster. To destroy anyone, anything, standing in my way!

The power to change your fate. To protect those you love. To destroy evil. I will give you this, but in turn you must give yourself to me. Become my hands. My eyes and ears. My vessel. As you use me, so will I use you.

The voice reached out to him like a hand, outstretched, waiting patiently.

And Nox gladly took it.

When he came to his senses, it was the morning of the next day. There was no sign of the Remnant, only a ring of black blood that was quickly dissipating in the air.

As he rose to his feet, he looked down at the the black sword in his grasp.

***

Nox blinked as the memory faded and Estella’s face rippled into view. He was still holding her hands, but his head was pounding now. He shook it, squeezing his eyes out, hoping it would go away.

In his hands, Estella’s fingers trembled. When he reopened his eyes, her mouth was moving, but no sound was coming from it. He didn’t need the Resonance to know what she was thinking. He could taste the bile rising from his throat.

It wasn’t Faven who once wielded Erebos; it was Arabella.

He killed her on the same cave where you found me, the former Celestial said. Since then, I had been trapped, unable to do anything but remain in slumber.

She was that corpse? Nox grimaced.

What corpse? Estella demanded. You found him on a corpse?

Faven bound me to his wife’s bones, Erebos answered. He knew Thuri would spin a false tale, so he had hoped that someone would cleanse Arabella’s name.

You chose me, Nox said.

More like you needed help. But regardless, you were the one who entered that cave.

Nox didn’t know whether he should be glad or not, though he wouldn’t have met Estella if he hadn’t explored that cave.

In any case, Erebos continued, now you know the truth. Thuri indeed spun a false tale, and Faven didn’t deny it because the rest of the Founders banded together. They wanted to control me through Arabella, and her through Faven.

But they couldn’t, Estella said. And now they are repeating history with Nox.

With far more serious repercussions. If he hadn’t been stopped, Nox knew that his rampage would have placed Faven in a difficult situation, especially for its citizens.

What should we do, then, Master? Estella asked.

Master? Nox arched an eyebrow. The title seemed to pleased Erebos greatly.

Only to be careful with your plans. Thuri was a cunning man, and patient. His people were not different. Alzeron is your greatest threat; eliminating him now would be wise.

And dangerous, Nox thought with a grimace. He would need to be careful.

I’ve said most of the things I need to both of you. Now go and reforge the Resonance. It will help you in the coming days.

Nox felt Erebos retreating from his mind until only a tiny thread connected them. He lowered his hands, as did Estella, flexing his fingers and rolling his shoulders. How long had they been sitting in that position without moving? It seemed like hours had passed already.

For a moment, he and Estella were silent. Everything Erebos told them was still difficult to take in, but there was no denying the truth in them. And now it was up to him and Estella to reveal that truth.

He stared at her. “What do you make of all of these?”

“Shocking and confusing,” she admitted. “But it validates us; Thurin is our enemy.”

An enemy that must be eradicated. Still, an all-out war would lead to more misery. They had to end it before it could begin.

“How far until we reach Alzeron?” he asked. He tried to lower his hands, but Estella’s fingers were firmly wrapped around his.

“A week. The exchange will happen at the borders.”

Plenty of time to craft a plan. He still needed to know what Thuri was planning, but after seeing Arabella’s memories, a burning rage had sprung within him. A desire to kill Alzeron and those who caused all of this.

“You’re planning to kill him,” Estella said.

“Horribly and painfully.” It wasn’t even a question; he would do it even if he had to transform into a monster once more. Preferably as a monster so he could tear Alzeron apart.

Estella sniffed, her right thumb circling along his wrist. “You have to get in line, then.”

He smiled. Lifting her hands, he kissed the back of it. “Of course, you will go first.” He let his lips linger for a moment, then pulled back. His gaze serious. “Now, about the Resonance.”

“Yes.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Remember how it came to be?”

“We were dueling. A practice one.” He could still remember it, fresh as if it had been only yesterday.

She nodded. “But it doesn’t mean we have to be fighting, though. And neither do we have time to do that. All the Resonance needs is that we need to be in tune with each other’s emotions.” Her thumb brushed against his wrist again.

“In tune with each other’s emotions,” he repeated. Now that she mentioned it, their Resonance truly started when…

“And the stronger the emotions,” her thumb was now replaced by a slim index finger caressing his lower arm as her voice grew softer, “the stronger the connection.”

He tried not to shiver at her touch. Whether Estella was speaking the truth or embellishing it no longer mattered with the burning inside him seeking release.

He growled, yanked her closer, and captured her lips.