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“Mr. Heathcliff. Can you kiss your girlfriend so we can get a move on?” He sounds like he’s pleading for his own sanity. “Already endured enough theatrics for my daily threshold.”
“Theatrics?” It takes a few seconds, but I locate the scowling professor.And this is the man connected to Odessa? Insanity. I need to get a return policy.“I almost got murdered! Dying is not theatrical, Professor North.”
“It is when you see it enough times,” he grumbles.
“Weren’t you on the verge of tears a second a—” Professor Blackbird begins, but with a blink, I’m not only in his arms, we’re launched in the air, thanks to his swift agility.
I manage to glance down and see Asher, who’s not only outstretching his hand that triggers a scaled wall of black that stretches enough to protect our remaining comrades, but he’s next to push off the ground in time to miss the onslaught of black flames that threaten to extinguish him.
The rest of the team is making distance just as Professor Blackbird lands next to Professor North. They exchange a look before I’m offered to Professor North, who doesn’t seem to mind holding my body, which is still on the mend in the healing stages. My eyes are now glued to Asher, noticing his bare back that’s a canvas of scars and drilled incantations.
It makes my stomach flip in agony for him. He’s spreading his stance out while bolts of black lightning strike from the sky into his right outstretched hand that grasps a black trident made of shadows.
“Why is it so difficult for useless bastards to die?” Asher grumbles in his baritone voice.
I look at the culprit, who’s soaking wet a few feet away.
Golden spear in hand.
“You dare stand in my way.” Alaric struggles to say the words, his body completely battered with wounds, while one of his arms has been obliterated. He’s bleeding and dripping from the tainted waters, but that venomous stare is as vivid as ever. “Give. Me. My. PRIZE!”
“Last time I checked, you weren’t in line.” Asher says those words so calmly, yet his aura begins to leak off his body like an active shadow of purple and grey. It’s captivating to watch and frightening to acknowledge because the energy oozing out of him is at levels I’ve never witnessed. “Sorry, but we can’t have two twins eyeing the same girl. It’s rather problematic.”
Two twins?
“GIVE ME MY TROPHY!” Alaric screams and somehow finds the energy to sprint toward Asher.
My body tenses up. I can’t afford to watch Asher fight or even get injured without my involvement. I want to be able to protect him, but I’m a sitting duck with my arms still recovering from being shattered.
“Relax.” Professor North’s voice is so low, I know it was only meant for me as he holds me a little tighter. “Watch.”
My body does what he commands, all while my attention is absorbed by the physical confrontation that’s about to unravel into a catastrophe.
For a single moment, my eyes detour to our right. Professor Blackbird’s aura spikes so strongly, every hair on my body rises from his essence, but the loud gasp that follows pulls me back to the battlefield.
Only to see Asher’s still in place, having not lifted his trident a bit.
For a second, I can’t fathom what just happened to leave Alaric to slowly come to a full stop. My eyes are being a bitch at long-sightedness, but I’m given enough seconds to narrow and focus on what paralyzes Alaric in place.
A golden arrow?
For some reason, I look to my left, just enough around Professor North to witness where everyone else has to be looking.
Staring at the culprit of the single strike.
“Azrael?”
There he stands, glowing so immaculately, like a descending angel, without the mesmerizing wings that would represent purity. A golden bow is in his grasp, and his eyes are so white, I can no longer see the pupils within.
It’s an alluring, magnetizing sight I’m sure you’d only witness in the holy parts of Nephilim, where those who bathed in the sun’s rays and avoided the shadows for years would be given the opportunity to see among one another.
How is Azrael able to tap into such essence?
Maybe it’s similar to how Asher hid his true appearance from the rest of the world.
“H-How dare you?” Alaric questions as he watches the flow of his blood begin to fall. “Do you know what you’re doing? Why are you interfering?! You fucking copycat! You BASTARD! That woman only raised a weak being, who thinks he can become an acceptable Shadow? You think crushing on that whore will get you points?”
“Jeez. Only had sex with my boyfriend and kissed two professors. Don’t know how that makes me a whore, but go on,” I mutter far too loudly when the tense silence awaiting Azrael’s reply continues.
