Chapter 202: 202
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At my words, Ithuriel looks away, his eyes downcast as he mulls over what I have told him. Perhaps he too is thinking the same as I: that each second that passes in this drab and dreary place is another second wasted, and another step towards hopelessness. It is all I can do but remind myself that Soren is here, and Kal, and Delina, and Ithuriel, and that some way or another, we are going to take Azrael down, destroy him for good. After all, what could he possibly do to stop us?
Yet it's hard to ignore that chilling disappointment that resides on Ithuriel's face, but I do my best not to let it get to me. Hardening my resolve and my heart to avoid the mortal softening of it that has so often led to my downfall, I look away, returning my gaze to Azrael, who remains ever quiet. Meanwhile beside me, Delina is continuing to fidget, her motions getting ever more antsy. There is something odd about the way she moves, like a frightened mouse, her body quivering with the fearful anticipation of a predator snapping her life swiftly short.
But Delina is a vampire, not a mouse, and there is no natural predator in this world that could kill her. So why is she so afraid?
"What's the situation, Soren? When do we leave?" comes Kal's voice across the room as he continues to pet Ithuriel's fur, picking out tufts of fur that is matted with blood, and shards of debris that have wormed their way into his flesh. His question is hopeful enough to jerk me right out of my worries, so for a moment, I allow my gaze to slip to Soren, awaiting an answer.
For a minute, Soren does not hear the question, his hands firmly pressed against the glowing crystal shard entrapping a golden fire, his eyes fixed, body motionless as a black aura seeps from his fingertips, instilling the flame with a much duller light. His eyes are glazed with a deep concentration, their amber hues flickering under the light of the flame as he presses harder against the crystal. Whatever he is trying to do, it clearly requires a lot of thought.
After a while, it becomes very clear that Soren is not going to answer.
When Kal eventually realises this fact, he calls out another time, his spare hand pattering against the chalky floor, quivering with nerves. Beside him, Dawn hugs onto his shoulder. After that he doesn't seem as worried.
At last Soren shakes himself out of his daze.
"Apologies, Kal," he mutters, flashing a smile in the dragons general direction, holding the crystal up to inspect a light that isn't even there. Momentarily he peers at it, then adds over his shoulder. "The eternal flame is charged with a malicious energy. I am going to need to withdraw the magic from it, which hopefully won't take too long. I have had some practise with this before. Just keep an eye on Azrael for me, would you? I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."
"Well why don't you try throwing me, brother?" Azrael pipes up, resuming consciousness from his daze. His red eyes spark with malice. "I need an excuse to get out of this miserable place."
"Not happening, brother," Soren says firmly, before adding with an exasperated sigh:
"Just watch him."
We all nod in unison, all except Delina, who appears to be getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Her red eyes dart around the room, hands rubbing against her arms, as if she would like nothing more than to curl up into a ball and float away into nothingness.
"Delina," I whisper, causing her to jolt upright, her eyes wide, as though not anticipating to hear a voice at all.
"Mmm?" she mumbles wearily, giving a faint but unconvincing smile. Scowling, I press my sword closer against Azrael's chest, just enough to draw the faintest scratches of blood. To this, Azrael gives a low growl, not too pleased at having another scar to mark his not so perfect body, but I can hardly bring myself to care.
"Are you okay? You seem…" I fumble for the words. "...Off."
Quickly, she nods her head. Perhaps a little too quickly.
"I am fine, Serena. I just have a lot of things on my mind, is all," she laughs, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Everything has just been so crazy today. I didn't think we'd actually be down here killing..."
She trails off with an empty expression. I narrow my eyes, dubious. Of course, she is right. Saying that things have been crazy today would be the understatement of the year. But that doesn't explain the fear that quivers through her body, or why her eyes have not left Azrael's trapped form for the past five minutes.
But before I can voice my concerns, a bright, white light flashes around the room, sending sparks flying before my eyes. My head dizzy with the sudden scatter of bright colours, I stumble back a bit, scanning around for the source. For a few, much too long moments, my head feels like it has been shoved on a carousel at high speed, spinning round and round in a never ending cycle of dizziness. Then it comes to a halt as the brightness fades from the room, leaving silhouetted marks dancing against my eyes.
"Sorry," Soren calls from the pedestal in the centre of the room, his fingers glossing over the crystal whose crimson light has finally started to dim. Even the blood markings on the floor have begun to evaporate, dispelling into the dusty air to mix with the fumigating smell of mould and must. With a dim intrigue, Soren peers at the crystal. He taps it once, then twice, before frowning once more.
I can hear a faint curse of exasperation slip from his mind as he steps back to survey the flame.
Fucking brother with his fucking wards.
To this, I almost spare a chuckle. Blushing a little at the realisation I have heard him, Soren runs a hand through his hair, puffing out a low breath.
"It is being fairly resistant to my alterations, but one more bout of stimulation should do it. I apologise in advance for your eyes," he chuckles, planting his hands once again on the crystal.
With this in mind, all of us take our places. Shying away in the corner, Dawn covers her eyes, screwing them shut. Kal places a free hand over the little fox's, whose weak disposition renders him unable to cover his own, and Delina merely shuts hers, standing their swaying. Right before Soren channels his powers into the flame, I feel a tug in my chest, a deviation from my own will that causes my heart to skip a beat, as though something is pulling at my conscience, trying to leave. Suddenly I notice Delina's hand moving towards Azrael, clasping round his own.
I make to scream, but by the time the flash has resounded around the room, the whole place has already descended into chaos.
When the whiteness ceases to blur my vision with an unforgivable haze, and the dots have died down against my eyes, things are not as they were. Even as my eyes dance with spots of white and black, my head spinning as I attempt to regain composure, I can tell everything has gone horribly, horribly wrong.
The room is dim, no longer filled with that grievous red light that made my vision swim red with blood. Instead a golden light douses the walls in colour, but it spares little relief against everything else.
Azrael's eyes are wide open. He stares at me with a dull gleam of a smile settling on his features, his eyes pulled to the point of alarm in a nefariously wide, almost disturbing look. As his red eyes bore into me, the hairs on my back begin rising in panic, making my skin prickle. There is a dribble of blood on his lip. By the potent bitterness of it, I can deduce it is his own, but for what reason he is bleeding, I have yet to confirm. Then I slide down to glance at his hand, where Delina's remains clasped in his, her body strewn carelessly on the floor.
My mind strives to piece together the clues, what it all means, but shortly comes up empty.
That is until I feel a blade slide against my throat, see the tendrils of blood magic arching their way towards Azrael, halting a millimeter from his already ruined face.
A small choke rises from my lips.
Slowly, I glance to the figure sprawled out on the floor, a mess of blue hair, not dead, but unconscious.
"What have you done, Azrael?" I whisper, continuing to keep my sword pressed against his chest, coughing against the knife that skims the skin of my throat. Azrael only smiles, saying nothing.
"You know you can't hurt her," Soren growls, dropping the flame onto the pedestal as he strides across the room, his expression drawn, eyes a deep red.. The stake stuck in the middle of Azrael's chest seems to suggest so, and yet here I am positively bound by the dagger at my throat. Which begs the question- who is holding the dagger?
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At my words, Ithuriel looks away, his eyes downcast as he mulls over what I have told him. Perhaps he too is thinking the same as I: that each second that passes in this drab and dreary place is another second wasted, and another step towards hopelessness. It is all I can do but remind myself that Soren is here, and Kal, and Delina, and Ithuriel, and that some way or another, we are going to take Azrael down, destroy him for good. After all, what could he possibly do to stop us?
Yet it's hard to ignore that chilling disappointment that resides on Ithuriel's face, but I do my best not to let it get to me. Hardening my resolve and my heart to avoid the mortal softening of it that has so often led to my downfall, I look away, returning my gaze to Azrael, who remains ever quiet. Meanwhile beside me, Delina is continuing to fidget, her motions getting ever more antsy. There is something odd about the way she moves, like a frightened mouse, her body quivering with the fearful anticipation of a predator snapping her life swiftly short.
But Delina is a vampire, not a mouse, and there is no natural predator in this world that could kill her. So why is she so afraid?
"What's the situation, Soren? When do we leave?" comes Kal's voice across the room as he continues to pet Ithuriel's fur, picking out tufts of fur that is matted with blood, and shards of debris that have wormed their way into his flesh. His question is hopeful enough to jerk me right out of my worries, so for a moment, I allow my gaze to slip to Soren, awaiting an answer.
For a minute, Soren does not hear the question, his hands firmly pressed against the glowing crystal shard entrapping a golden fire, his eyes fixed, body motionless as a black aura seeps from his fingertips, instilling the flame with a much duller light. His eyes are glazed with a deep concentration, their amber hues flickering under the light of the flame as he presses harder against the crystal. Whatever he is trying to do, it clearly requires a lot of thought.
After a while, it becomes very clear that Soren is not going to answer.
When Kal eventually realises this fact, he calls out another time, his spare hand pattering against the chalky floor, quivering with nerves. Beside him, Dawn hugs onto his shoulder. After that he doesn't seem as worried.
At last Soren shakes himself out of his daze.
"Apologies, Kal," he mutters, flashing a smile in the dragons general direction, holding the crystal up to inspect a light that isn't even there. Momentarily he peers at it, then adds over his shoulder. "The eternal flame is charged with a malicious energy. I am going to need to withdraw the magic from it, which hopefully won't take too long. I have had some practise with this before. Just keep an eye on Azrael for me, would you? I don't trust him as far as I can throw him."
"Well why don't you try throwing me, brother?" Azrael pipes up, resuming consciousness from his daze. His red eyes spark with malice. "I need an excuse to get out of this miserable place."
"Not happening, brother," Soren says firmly, before adding with an exasperated sigh:
"Just watch him."
We all nod in unison, all except Delina, who appears to be getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Her red eyes dart around the room, hands rubbing against her arms, as if she would like nothing more than to curl up into a ball and float away into nothingness.
"Delina," I whisper, causing her to jolt upright, her eyes wide, as though not anticipating to hear a voice at all.
"Mmm?" she mumbles wearily, giving a faint but unconvincing smile. Scowling, I press my sword closer against Azrael's chest, just enough to draw the faintest scratches of blood. To this, Azrael gives a low growl, not too pleased at having another scar to mark his not so perfect body, but I can hardly bring myself to care.
"Are you okay? You seem…" I fumble for the words. "...Off."
Quickly, she nods her head. Perhaps a little too quickly.
"I am fine, Serena. I just have a lot of things on my mind, is all," she laughs, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Everything has just been so crazy today. I didn't think we'd actually be down here killing..."
She trails off with an empty expression. I narrow my eyes, dubious. Of course, she is right. Saying that things have been crazy today would be the understatement of the year. But that doesn't explain the fear that quivers through her body, or why her eyes have not left Azrael's trapped form for the past five minutes.
But before I can voice my concerns, a bright, white light flashes around the room, sending sparks flying before my eyes. My head dizzy with the sudden scatter of bright colours, I stumble back a bit, scanning around for the source. For a few, much too long moments, my head feels like it has been shoved on a carousel at high speed, spinning round and round in a never ending cycle of dizziness. Then it comes to a halt as the brightness fades from the room, leaving silhouetted marks dancing against my eyes.
"Sorry," Soren calls from the pedestal in the centre of the room, his fingers glossing over the crystal whose crimson light has finally started to dim. Even the blood markings on the floor have begun to evaporate, dispelling into the dusty air to mix with the fumigating smell of mould and must. With a dim intrigue, Soren peers at the crystal. He taps it once, then twice, before frowning once more.
I can hear a faint curse of exasperation slip from his mind as he steps back to survey the flame.
Fucking brother with his fucking wards.
To this, I almost spare a chuckle. Blushing a little at the realisation I have heard him, Soren runs a hand through his hair, puffing out a low breath.
"It is being fairly resistant to my alterations, but one more bout of stimulation should do it. I apologise in advance for your eyes," he chuckles, planting his hands once again on the crystal.
With this in mind, all of us take our places. Shying away in the corner, Dawn covers her eyes, screwing them shut. Kal places a free hand over the little fox's, whose weak disposition renders him unable to cover his own, and Delina merely shuts hers, standing their swaying. Right before Soren channels his powers into the flame, I feel a tug in my chest, a deviation from my own will that causes my heart to skip a beat, as though something is pulling at my conscience, trying to leave. Suddenly I notice Delina's hand moving towards Azrael, clasping round his own.
I make to scream, but by the time the flash has resounded around the room, the whole place has already descended into chaos.
When the whiteness ceases to blur my vision with an unforgivable haze, and the dots have died down against my eyes, things are not as they were. Even as my eyes dance with spots of white and black, my head spinning as I attempt to regain composure, I can tell everything has gone horribly, horribly wrong.
The room is dim, no longer filled with that grievous red light that made my vision swim red with blood. Instead a golden light douses the walls in colour, but it spares little relief against everything else.
Azrael's eyes are wide open. He stares at me with a dull gleam of a smile settling on his features, his eyes pulled to the point of alarm in a nefariously wide, almost disturbing look. As his red eyes bore into me, the hairs on my back begin rising in panic, making my skin prickle. There is a dribble of blood on his lip. By the potent bitterness of it, I can deduce it is his own, but for what reason he is bleeding, I have yet to confirm. Then I slide down to glance at his hand, where Delina's remains clasped in his, her body strewn carelessly on the floor.
My mind strives to piece together the clues, what it all means, but shortly comes up empty.
That is until I feel a blade slide against my throat, see the tendrils of blood magic arching their way towards Azrael, halting a millimeter from his already ruined face.
A small choke rises from my lips.
Slowly, I glance to the figure sprawled out on the floor, a mess of blue hair, not dead, but unconscious.
"What have you done, Azrael?" I whisper, continuing to keep my sword pressed against his chest, coughing against the knife that skims the skin of my throat. Azrael only smiles, saying nothing.
"You know you can't hurt her," Soren growls, dropping the flame onto the pedestal as he strides across the room, his expression drawn, eyes a deep red.. The stake stuck in the middle of Azrael's chest seems to suggest so, and yet here I am positively bound by the dagger at my throat. Which begs the question- who is holding the dagger?
At my words, Ithuriel looks away, his eyes downcast as he mulls over what I have told him. Perhaps he too is thinking the same as I: that each second that passes in this drab and dreary place is another second wasted, and another step towards hopelessness. It is all I can do but remind myself that Soren is here, and Kal, and Delina, and Ithuriel, and that some way or another, we are going to take Azrael down, destroy him for good. After all, what could he possibly do to stop us?Yet it's hard to ignore that chilling disappointment that resides on Ithuriel's face, but I do my best not to let it get to me. Hardening my resolve and my heart to avoid the mortal softening of it that has so often led to my downfall, I look away, returning my gaze to Azrael, who remains ever quiet. Meanwhile beside me, Delina is continuing to fidget, her motions getting ever more antsy. There is something odd about the way she moves, like a frightened mouse, her body quivering with the fearful anticipation of a predator snapping her life swiftly short.But Delina is a vampire, not a mouse, and there is no natural predator in this world that could kill her. So why is she so afraid?"What's the situation, Soren? When do we leave?" comes Kal's voice across the room as he continues to pet Ithuriel's fur, picking out tufts of fur that is matted with blood, and shards of debris that have wormed their way into his flesh. His question is hopeful enough to jerk me right out of my worries, so for a moment, I allow my gaze to slip to Soren, awaiting an answer.For a minute, Soren does not hear the question, his hands firmly pressed against the glowing crystal shard entrapping a golden fire, his eyes fixed, body motionless as a black aura seeps from his fingertips, instilling the flame with a much duller light. His eyes are glazed with a deep concentration, their amber hues flickering under the light of the flame as he presses harder against the crystal. Whatever he is trying to do, it clearly requires a lot of thought. After a while, it becomes very clear that Soren is not going to answer.When Kal eventually realises this fact, he calls out another time, his spare hand pattering against the chalky floor, quivering with nerves. Beside him, Dawn hugs onto his shoulder. After that he doesn't seem as worried.At last Soren shakes himself out of his daze."Apologies, Kal," he mutters, flashing a smile in the dragons general direction, holding the crystal up to inspect a light that isn't even there. Momentarily he peers at it, then adds over his shoulder. "The eternal flame is charged with a malicious energy. I am going to need to withdraw the magic from it, which hopefully won't take too long. I have had some practise with this before. Just keep an eye on Azrael for me, would you? I don't trust him as far as I can throw him.""Well why don't you try throwing me, brother?" Azrael pipes up, resuming consciousness from his daze. His red eyes spark with malice. "I need an excuse to get out of this miserable place.""Not happening, brother," Soren says firmly, before adding with an exasperated sigh:"Just watch him."We all nod in unison, all except Delina, who appears to be getting more and more uncomfortable by the minute. Her red eyes dart around the room, hands rubbing against her arms, as if she would like nothing more than to curl up into a ball and float away into nothingness."Delina," I whisper, causing her to jolt upright, her eyes wide, as though not anticipating to hear a voice at all."Mmm?" she mumbles wearily, giving a faint but unconvincing smile. Scowling, I press my sword closer against Azrael's chest, just enough to draw the faintest scratches of blood. To this, Azrael gives a low growl, not too pleased at having another scar to mark his not so perfect body, but I can hardly bring myself to care."Are you okay? You seem" I fumble for the words. "...Off."Quickly, she nods her head. Perhaps a little too quickly."I am fine, Serena. I just have a lot of things on my mind, is all," she laughs, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Everything has just been so crazy today. I didn't think we'd actually be down here killing..."She trails off with an empty expression. I narrow my eyes, dubious. Of course, she is right. Saying that things have been crazy today would be the understatement of the year. But that doesn't explain the fear that quivers through her body, or why her eyes have not left Azrael's trapped form for the past five minutes.But before I can voice my concerns, a bright, white light flashes around the room, sending sparks flying before my eyes. My head dizzy with the sudden scatter of bright colours, I stumble back a bit, scanning around for the source. For a few, much too long moments, my head feels like it has been shoved on a carousel at high speed, spinning round and round in a never ending cycle of dizziness. Then it comes to a halt as the brightness fades from the room, leaving silhouetted marks dancing against my eyes."Sorry," Soren calls from the pedestal in the centre of the room, his fingers glossing over the crystal whose crimson light has finally started to dim. Even the blood markings on the floor have begun to evaporate, dispelling into the dusty air to mix with the fumigating smell of mould and must. With a dim intrigue, Soren peers at the crystal. He taps it once, then twice, before frowning once more.I can hear a faint curse of exasperation slip from his mind as he steps back to survey the flame.Fucking brother with his fucking wards. To this, I almost spare a chuckle. Blushing a little at the realisation I have heard him, Soren runs a hand through his hair, puffing out a low breath."It is being fairly resistant to my alterations, but one more bout of stimulation should do it. I apologise in advance for your eyes," he chuckles, planting his hands once again on the crystal. With this in mind, all of us take our places. Shying away in the corner, Dawn covers her eyes, screwing them shut. Kal places a free hand over the little fox's, whose weak disposition renders him unable to cover his own, and Delina merely shuts hers, standing their swaying. Right before Soren channels his powers into the flame, I feel a tug in my chest, a deviation from my own will that causes my heart to skip a beat, as though something is pulling at my conscience, trying to leave. Suddenly I notice Delina's hand moving towards Azrael, clasping round his own.I make to scream, but by the time the flash has resounded around the room, the whole place has already descended into chaos.When the whiteness ceases to blur my vision with an unforgivable haze, and the dots have died down against my eyes, things are not as they were. Even as my eyes dance with spots of white and black, my head spinning as I attempt to regain composure, I can tell everything has gone horribly, horribly wrong.The room is dim, no longer filled with that grievous red light that made my vision swim red with blood. Instead a golden light douses the walls in colour, but it spares little relief against everything else.Azrael's eyes are wide open. He stares at me with a dull gleam of a smile settling on his features, his eyes pulled to the point of alarm in a nefariously wide, almost disturbing look. As his red eyes bore into me, the hairs on my back begin rising in panic, making my skin prickle. There is a dribble of blood on his lip. By the potent bitterness of it, I can deduce it is his own, but for what reason he is bleeding, I have yet to confirm. Then I slide down to glance at his hand, where Delina's remains clasped in his, her body strewn carelessly on the floor.My mind strives to piece together the clues, what it all means, but shortly comes up empty.That is until I feel a blade slide against my throat, see the tendrils of blood magic arching their way towards Azrael, halting a millimeter from his already ruined face.A small choke rises from my lips.Slowly, I glance to the figure sprawled out on the floor, a mess of blue hair, not dead, but unconscious."What have you done, Azrael?" I whisper, continuing to keep my sword pressed against his chest, coughing against the knife that skims the skin of my throat. Azrael only smiles, saying nothing."You know you can't hurt her," Soren growls, dropping the flame onto the pedestal as he strides across the room, his expression drawn, eyes a deep red.. The stake stuck in the middle of Azrael's chest seems to suggest so, and yet here I am positively bound by the dagger at my throat. Which begs the question- who is holding the dagger?
