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Of course I prefer it that I wasn’t risen from the dead to serve his tyrannical will, and it disgusts me that I can’t deny his words. But it doesn’t mean he showed me mercy. Mercy would have been killing me and leaving my body and soul to rest, so that I neither have to serve him in death nor live out such a lonely life consumed by vengeance and anguish. Except then, I wouldn’t be able to bring Arluin to justice.
And that is what I’m going to do. Right here. Right now.
He will face my wrath.
For Nolderan.
For Father.
For Eliya.
My blood bubbles with magic. I didn’t realize how much aether my fury has summoned. And like my emotions, it is impossible to contain.
It screams to lash out, to obliterate Arluin. To burn him with the heat of a thousand suns. Until not even ash remains as proof of his existence.
The aether escapes my hands. I utter not a single spell-word. There’s no need. My magic thoroughly understands my burning will.
My need to destroy.
Flames explode from my fingers, surging toward Arluin. Sparks crackle from the intensity of the fireball, scalding even the air in its wake.
Arluin’s mask falls for the briefest of moments, revealing his surprise. He doesn’t expect such power from me, the useless adept who brought about the destruction of her own city. I hope he fears me and what I am becoming—if he is alive enough to feel fear. With Father’s staff and my rage, I will show him the extent of my power.
Despite his surprise, my attack doesn’t catch him entirely off-guard.
Before the fireball reaches him, he wraps a wall of shadows around himself.
“Ekrad!”he shouts. And so does Grizela beside him.
My spell collides with their dark magic. A shock-wave shudders through the air, causing me to stumble. Even Natharius and Lhorok are driven back. And my enemies are also shaken by it.
The raven curls atop Arluin’s head are tousled from the force. One sweeps into his gray eyes. He brushes it away with the back of his hand. His other clutches the iron ring he pried from Lhorok’s wife.
He doesn’t appear bothered by my attack in the slightest. “It seems granting you mercy was a mistake.”
“Arluin,” I spit, “I will destroy you, even if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Come then,” Arluin says. “Come and destroy me.” He tears his gaze from me and examines my two companions. Natharius says nothing, his crimson eyes fixed on the iron ring Arluin holds. His jaw is tightened and his expression is hardened, ready to fight. Lhorok, however, remains on his knees. He stares down at his wife’s corpse, barely blinking.
I pray the orc will find the strength to fight. Even with Natharius, I don’t like our odds.
“A demon?” Arluin asks, his voice rising. “You summoned a demon?”
“A Void Prince,” Natharius growls with a venomous glare. “And I grow tired of your words, mortal.”
In the next breath, shadows swirl around Natharius, draping him in a cloud of darkness and warping his form into a monstrous size.
Large draconic wings beat, the resulting wind almost blowing me down the street. Gnarled onyx horns glisten, and crimson light radiate from the demon’s markings, reflecting off the nearby stone walls. A maddened grin spreads across his face, revealing glinting fangs, and his knuckles twitch with eagerness as he grips his obsidian sword.
Never have I been more grateful to witness such a terrifying sight. Even if Natharius’s demonic form chills me to the bone.
“Let me teach you the true meaning of doom,” his voice booms through the empty street.
Natharius’s blade descends on Arluin.
“Farjud,”Arluin mutters, the shadows spinning around him.
He merges with the darkness, slipping past Natharius and reappearing behind him.
