So that explained his immense power. How ironic that one of the very artifacts Noctis had bestowed upon his followers during the war would ultimately be my undoing.
I met the pitiless, fanatical eyes of the acolyte. I would not beg for mercy. His thin lips twisted into a triumphant smile as he raised the dagger over his head with both hands.
“Vultaron!”
The sharp voice cut through the courtyard like a whip, making the Chiasma freeze.
“I thought you were smarter than to even consider touching her.” Noctis stood in the doorway of the house, tall and unyielding, still dressed in the simple black shirt and breeches he had worn to bed, his face full of terrible wrath.
“My lord.” Vultaron recoiled and turned to face him. His voicelacked any deference, despite the respectful greeting. “Returned from the dead, I see.”
“Indeed.”
Noctis stepped into the courtyard, a frosty smile concealing the immense effort it must have taken for him to come out here. He hadn’t even bothered to put on his boots. His bare feet sank into the muddy ground as he approached, his hair and clothes quickly drenched by the rain.
“You are fortunate,” he said, his gaze fixed on the acolyte. “I am feeling benevolent tonight. I might be persuaded to grant you forgiveness for your transgression.” A vicious snarl bared his teeth. “If you beg for it.”
Vultaron shifted the dagger in his hands. Thunder growled overhead, Chaos magic pulsing in the air. Noctis tensed in response.
“Becoming Human has not diminished your arrogance,” the Chiasma sneered at his former master. “What exactly makes you think I still serve you? That any of us do?”
Dark eyes met mine for an instant, revealing undisguised worry, before Noctis masked his expression. “You swore an oath to me,” he said to Vultaron, inching a few steps forward.
Only a little closer and he would be in striking range of that dagger. Urgency pounded through me as I used the wall behind me for leverage to rise to my feet, ignoring the black spots dancing through my vision.
“It seems we all must deal with disappointments. You promised us power beyond imagination.” Vultaron’s face twisted in open disgust. “Only to squander our certain victory because you couldn’t give up your little whore.”
He thrust the dagger in my direction, Chaos magic slamming me against the wall once more. Blinding agony shot through myinjured wrist, another scream escaping me as I crumpled to the ground.
“Careful, Vultaron.” Noctis’s voice had dropped to a menacing growl. His hands clenched into fists.
“Or what?” The Chiasma cackled. “You’re going to punish me? I doubt it. You can hardly stand.”
“Do not repeat Tharion’s mistake. He thought me easy prey. And now he is dead.” Noctis’s challenging posture betrayed no worry, despite Vultaron seeing through his facade. “You know I am not helpless. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have waited to confront us until a night when Chaos is raging. Although you may no longer wish to serve me, you do not want to make me your enemy. Leave now, and we can forget about this.”
“A generous offer.” Vultaron cocked his head, that taunting smile still on his face. He was toying with us, I realized with rising horror, confident he could finish us off anytime he liked. “Unfortunately, you are right. You are still the Adept of Chaos. And as long as you live, its power will always be drawn to you, despite your unworthiness.”
A bolt of lightning struck worryingly close, the renewed release of Chaos sizzling in the air. Shimmering threads of it encircled the two men facing off in the pouring rain. I could not predict who it would favor more in a fight—the fallen god who had commanded it for centuries, or his acolyte, who wielded a weapon blessed with the same power.
“And you want to kill me now, hoping the magic will pass to Asiza or Galator?” Noctis let a few strands of magic dance lazily around his fingers. “So eager to serve someone else?” His eyes flicked to me, a stark despair showing in them for a moment before reverting to smug condescension. “Rest assured, I was a more lenient master than both the high priestess and the Butcher of Kirai would be.”
Curse it, he was faking it. The small amount of magic he wielded was probably the total extent of his abilities right now. I knew that overly self-assured smile too well to believe anything else. I groped frantically around in the mud, searching for the lostlyr-stone.
“You always said it yourself, my lord,” Vultaron answered, his dagger glowing brighter and brighter as he channeled more magic into it. “Chaos is a fickle mistress.”
There! A faint glimmer of red on the ground.
“Who knows whom she will favor?” The Chiasma raised his weapon high above his head. Chaos flooded toward him, the dagger shining as brightly as a star. “I will take my chances.”
I lunged for thelyr-stone, reaching for the small reserve of magic within it the moment I felt it in my grasp. A tiny fireball shot from my fingers toward Vultaron, only to be extinguished with a hiss as the Chiasma countered my attack with his own magic. I hadn’t expected anything else. This was merely a diversion.
Vultaron’s victorious glee turned into furious anger as Noctis slammed into him from the side, his hands closing around the dagger in the acolyte’s grasp.
Flickering sparks of Chaos magic danced through the air as the two men struggled over the dagger, neither gaining the upper hand at first. But all too soon, Noctis was on the defensive, his strength still too diminished to match the Elvish Chiasma.
“Use your powers, curse it,” he snapped at me, his face a strained mask, as Vultaron slowly forced him to his knees.
I clasped the empty Fire stone between my fingers, my feet slipping in the mud as I desperately tried to rise. “I can’t!”
