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Arioch and Daran, those pitiful beasts that her human side had to deal with, had been focused on the wraiths until now.
So be it.
The thought that she would die didn’t even stick in her mind.
No, she wasdeath.
And death could not die.
Stepping toward the wraiths, she held the dagger as she tested the weight of the dead wraith’s sword in her other hand. Muscle memory she’d earned from lifetimes ago finally taking over.
As she lifted her sword, the other more dangerous part of herself was happy to be allowed out to play, as her sword slashed through the wraiths, ichor spraying, as her mind let instinct take over.
Her dance of death led each of the king’s wraiths to their end at the tip of her sword.
Cyerra flew over the battlefield as if laying the burial shroud for the annihilation of those who threatened her clan.
Brandishing her sword and dagger, she lost herself to the rhythm in her own mind. Humans that moved in on her met the same fate as the cut of the steel that was her weapon met any who dared to come upon death and think they could win.
Stabbing the wraiths in the head, she slashed and removed each head from their grotesque body as if she’d done this every moment, of every day, of her life.
Bryn had beenbornfor this.
Arioch, having been nowhere near her mere moments ago, stared at her in his beastly form with seething hatred.
Bryn knew the Morrigan remembered him well since she had been the one to relegate him to the form. She had found it fitting at the time that he look on the outside what he was on the inside. A monster.
She’d always been a fan of things like that matching.
The Morrigan hated pretty monsters.
His beastly form took a running leap at her, only to be caught in the jaws of the black wolf from Faerie that Bryn had released.
Swinging, he attempted to dislodge her beautiful wolf, but she tore his neck wide open.
Bryn swirled around, her sword an extension of herself, and removed Arioch’s head. His body turned fully human as he fell, his blood watering the earth beneath him.
Arioch’s black soul lifted from his body, and he looked to where she had closed the veil, able to see the rift now that he was dead. She watched in amusement as Arioch made a run for it, hoping to push through to Faerie. He had lived a life of predatory habits toward young children, and so he had not earned peace, but he thought to take it.
Bryn laughed as the soul tried to escape his fate.
“Hunter!” she called out on instinct, as most of what she was doing was all rooted in some deep-seated knowledge.
Arawn stepped out of the veil, his beastly hounds at his side, and Arioch’s black soul stumbled to a halt. The hellish-looking hounds bit at the air, their bodies dancing as they waited to hear the words that gave them permission to take Arioch to where he belonged.
“You may hunt!” she yelled, her laughter following as Arawn’s hounds ran straight at Arioch, and the fear in his eyes ignited the prey drive in her own predator.
Arioch didn’t make it far, though he did try, she could give him that. He ran, the hounds nipping at his heels in fun before they each took a part of the man’s soul in their large maws and disappeared into the ether with him. Who knew where Arioch ended up, but good riddance.
Turning, she saw the humans quivering in fear before her, the dust floating through the air of all the wraiths she had destroyed right before their eyes.
Only glass stood between her and their petrified eyes, their trembling bodies, as they watched her walk forward, still holding the dagger and sword dripping with blood from their points to the sand at her feet.
They wouldn’t have seen the veil and subsequent spirits moving through the gate to Faerie not being dead yet themselves, but they had seen her kill Arioch. It seemed that was enough for them to watch her like a deer would a hungry wolf.
Let them fear her. They did not think her worthy when she was nothing more human than they were.
“The wild hunt will conclude soon, and lest you be deemed unworthy, I will take you to your paradise,” she whispered to the souls of those who’d died during battle, awaiting judgment with the slight yellow glow, ones that she would need to take soon enough once the threat was deemed no longer an issue.
