Faunia rushed toward Elos.

Akvum rushed toward Marisol.

Marisol floundered, kicked her arms and legs, gasped and let all of her air rush out from her lungs in big bubbles.

“Relax, Mari!”

Rykaedi released Elos and sent him flying, swept her hands together in a big clap like they were both flies.

“Faunia!”

She thrust herself at Akvum’s back. They interlocked their arms and stuck their legs out. That shining energy of Dyosius coated their legs just before the hands connected.

Boom!

Their bodies shook and ached when the hands clamped over them both. Faunia sucked in a strained breath.

“Faunia. It’s been a while,” Akvum managed to say.

“Yeah. It really has.”

Then the hands released them.

“Throw me,” she said.

“What?”

“At Elos, now!”

Akvum grabbed Faunia by the collar, jumped forward, launched with all of his might with a roar to match.

Faunia tucked her arms and legs close, soared like a bolt. Elos turned left and right before he locked his eyes on her. Then his glare returned.

“Give me Grivonym!” she shouted at him. “You don’t know what we’re in for, I need it now!”

“Fuck you, you pretend knife-ear.” He summoned and swept the big black blade down from above.

Faunia reared Dyosius’ rapier up just in time to catch his blade. They smacked together in a show of sparks. She marveled at how light the collision felt in comparison to the weight of real swords.

Elos pushed his sword through the guard, slid it along her weapon.

Faunia ducked low and down past him, swept a wide arc for his legs.

Elos kicked his feet out of the way clumsily, then shot a hard kick into her forehead, knocked her head backward.

“Agh—you’re wasting our time, we’re all going to die here!”

She glanced sideways just in time to see Rykaedi’s giant bone hand sweeping sideways at her.

“Fuck!”

Akvum caught Marisol in his arms.

“A-Akvum!” She gasped.

“Marisol, I need you to give your Etherian to me. I need it, I need everything we've got.”

She clamped her mouth. Her eyebrows pressed up in a show of dismay, sadness.

Akvum did his best to restrain his rage, his anxiety. “Marisol, your weapon!”

“...No.”

His eyes widened.

“She’s not a weapon. Helag is more than that—she’s a friend. Etherians aren’t just tools, they’re allies. They’re enemies. And that one—” she pointed up at Rykaedi, her voice took on a shaking rage: “—that’s the one who murdered my sister!”

Akvum blinked hard twice, his maw fell open. He released her, let her float comfortably upright. “I’m sorry. I’d forgotten.”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“I’m going to kill her, Akvum. For everything she’s done—to all of us!”

There was a burst of flames around Marisol. Her hair lit up amber and long, flowed in every direction like fire. Crimson scale-mail grew out of her and fell into place between dark steel pauldrons and accents. An iron crown framed her face, spiked upward over her forehead.

“I’m going to kill her!”

Cedric stood in a strange, iridescent environment. It was a place with no floor, no ceiling, no sky, no ground. A place with no bounds, no limits.

The same place he’d seen when Ithlo’vatis showed him Evra.

“Dyosius? Are you here?” He turned left and right. “Or is Evra here?”

He floated there still. Then he wiggled his foot downward, felt the smooth gloss of a floor beneath him. He gently landed.

“...Or is nobody here but me?”

There was a chime from some distance ahead, a strangely nostalgic tone. He began to wander toward it.

“I wish I could remember more. I wish I could go back—” he rambled as he walked, “—I’ve left so much behind. The world is always changing, and I'm too quick to keep up, maybe. How often do I actually stop and reflect on everything that's changed? Or maybe I reflect too much, maybe I'm slow, and Faunia is fast? How long can this frantic pace keep up...?”

The chime had become a constant tone. His pace accelerated.

“Dyosius is human will—indomitability. But that only takes people so far. It can't take us all the way. There's no way, right? Surely we've been surviving half by luck alone. Luck, planning… sacrifice.”

The iridescence began to darken.

“How many died for us to get here? I can't not mourn that loss. Hunters, Calamonians… Friends. It's been a near-constant stream of blood. But the blood has to run dry eventually, doesn't it?”

Then something clicked in his mind—”...I didn't wish for any of this. I didn't, did I? This war, all of this blood… I didn't ask for this.”

His expression took on a hint of madness. “It's been Serkukan, all along…! Harbinger of Azafel—he made me commune with him, made me leave Faunia and Tirolith behind… he's been behind all of this!”

The world lit up in flame around him. "All he asks is for devastation. For bloodshed. He’s fueled by rage and burns indiscriminately. How many have died, our side, their side, since when did sides matter? Serkukan demands their blood, and he takes it! He wants to be the most powerful Etherian, he—!”

Something stopped him ahead.

An elegant lock floated there at chest height, surrounded by eight rings. Six of them were glowing. Two were not. He admired the intricacy of the design.

“Are you Nihil Maxim? Are you the lock to Auctdos Munor?”

It didn't answer, though somehow it felt as though that was its answer.

He reached out a hand toward it. Then he paused.

“Rykaedi… feel this.”

And he plunged his hand into the oversized keyhole.

Rykaedi gasped and froze. Akvum spun toward her in alarm. Marisol continued to flare.

Faunia managed just once to glance back from her bout with Elos. Her own expression took on the worry across Akvum’s face.

“Auctdos Munor…” The lock fell into pieces, dropped from her chest as if in slow motion. “...You released Evra?”

Akvum sucked in a very deep breath. Then he rushed unrelentingly.

Faunia caught Elos’ blade in a firm guard—her blade clamped shut firmly over his weapon like a fly trap.

Thwip!

An arrow launched from her hilt. She grinned slightly. “Why bind myself to one weapon? Two is better than one, of course.” She rotated her sword sideways and it revealed its true form as a bow, the shape still changing constantly. Dyosius defies all logic... It doesn't need to conform to any one shape.

Elos choked up blood as he floated away. “You… bitch!”

“Aren't you forgetting something?” asked a voice from behind her.

Faunia spun. Serkukan caught her blade in a hand and snapped it, bent it backwards entirely. Dyosius crumbled away at his grasp.

Just before it was fully gone, he pried Grivonym out of its teeth.

“Serkukan, what are you—”

BANG!

His fist was concussive against her skull. Her head snapped back, whiplashed against her spine.

Then she floated away just as Elos had. Unmoving. Limp.

Serkukan’s curving plate helmet hid his fierce gaze. His eyes came up to meet Rykaedi's.

"Serkukan... how delightful."

"Rykaedi." There was a dull, reverberating chuckle from within his armor. Then he began to pry the pieces off. "Why bother with this facsimile anymore?"

And he revealed the bulging, huge flesh beneath. He raised both of his hands, took on a pugilist's fighting stance.

"Kag'tine, des taka."

And the Deadworld shook with his blazing approach.