Chapter 211: 211
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"Between you and me, it might be about time to snuff out that little problem- don't you think?" echoes Soren's words around the room as he prowls forward like a grim shadow of a hunter through the forest, slinking through the trees.
As if hearing his words, shadows coil around his body, readying themselves to decapitate what remains of the white haired abomination that shies before them. Soren is not one to show mercy to the wicked, nor will he ever be.
Azrael raises his hands to shield as Soren's magic collides with his barrier of pearly white light, an echoing clap like thunder bursting around the room, sending shockwaves of sudden terror racing through my body. For a moment the four of us (five if we are counting the unconscious Delina) recoil into the blackness, our vision shaking from the startling impact of magic upon magic. Kal's tail tightens around me and next to me, the fatigued little fox groans in despair. Blinking furiously and half awake, he lifts his limp and loose body up next to me, shivers quaking through his body. But shivering from the cold or from fear, I can hardly tell. Dawn sidles up next to me, peaking over the rim of Kal's scaly dragon skin to watch as Azrael is pushed further back and back by Soren's magic.
"Make him pay, Soren," she whispers, a remarkably startling thing from such a young angel. But then again, she was raised in the clutches of the Council of Angels- Igor is her grandfather, and such phrases are often customary in the talk of vampires and war. She has probably heard much, much worse.
Whether Soren hears this or not, he makes no effort to acknowledge it: his body rigid, yet his eyes are gleaming. He is going in for the kill.
And yet still, still, something feels horribly wrong.
I watch how close Soren is getting, how far he has made his approach, or at least, how far Azrael has willingly let him approach. By all standards of vampire mannerisms, Azrael's defence is sloppy, half-hearted, treating his life in the same way most vampires do when in the face of imminent danger: as if it is expendable. Which of course, to an immortal creature of the night, it mostly always is.
With a flicker of unease I notice how willingly Azrael backs up to the wall, hardly putting up any remote form of struggle or basic survival instincts, aside from that glimmering white shield that ingulfs him. He seems almost entirely... at ease. There is no tension in his body, just a shallow, malignant grin, and a spark in his eyes that sends my blood running cold with fear.
Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong.
"Kill him Soren," Kal calls across the room, a sudden desperation weaving itself into his voice. Perhaps he too has seen it. "Let's get this over with."
Beside me, the little white fox yips in aggravated approval.
"Are you going to kill me, Soren?" Azrael laughs, flashing white pointed canines as the wolves continue to circle him, his fingers shaking with the effort of upholding Soren's magic. A question, not a statement, one last prod at his brother, as if half expecting him not to do it.
"Obviously," Soren growls in a low and reverberating voice, dismissing the thought entirely. Another shot of black, swirling magic collides against Azrael's temporary shield, but this time, some of it slips through, scraping past Azrael's shoulder. To this, Soren only looks over his brother with a mixture of disappointment and disgust.
See, Azrael looks like he is failing- losing in fact, the weakening of his façade of bravery would seem to suggest as much. And yet there is an underlying confidence in his voice as he presses his back against the wall.
"You've always had too much faith in yourself."
And then I see it.
Faint and barely visible in the blackness of the room and the golden, jittery light of the flame, is a portal.
It exists as barely anything: a shimmering light against the back of the wall, a little flicker in reality that only registers as off in my brain because of how foreign the magic is. Only the faery folk use portals to travel- just like the portal that leads me to the place Soren gave me for our wedding present. But it is passed up by Soren, whose vision is blackened with a maddened rage and an unquenchable lust to quash the very creature who sought to ruin not only the life of his kingdom, but his wife too.
Yet that light, that illusion is there, flickering against the shadows of the room, against Azrael's back, and all at once I realise why the white haired vampire had not even tried to fight this whole time.
This entire room houses a portal. On every wall, on every side.
He is trying to escape.
And Soren is about to let him go.
I have seconds at best, seconds to do something, to stop the inevitable from happening. Seconds to prevent Azrael from escaping into the world to sew havoc upon mortal lives, and seconds to stop him from consuming all the other souls for the benefit of none other but himself. Seconds to act. And seconds to think.
And seconds are never enough.
There is only one option, so impossibly far fetched it might just work. Looking down once more, I release the invisible pendant I have been clutching in my palm, letting fear slip away, leaving a rock hard determination in its place. Beginning to clamber over Kal's tail, I scramble to get a footing, to make my way towards the white hair vampire. A millisecond in passing and Kal suddenly realises that I am not staying put, a growl of alarm echoing through the chamber. As I scramble my way over slippery scales and rocky ground, bound towards Azrael, his tail whips out to catch me, but it is a second to late.
There are never enough seconds.
Soren spares a glance towards me, his eyes widening at the look of determination that is plastered across my features, and then confusion as I race towards Azrael, my hand outstretched, hoping, praying it won't be too late. Azrael takes a small step back, his eyes glued to me, as though not quite believing what he is seeing.
I can imagine what he is thinking now, and I don't like it one bit.
But if Azrael disappears, he will be gone forever, and it will be too late for us to stop him. All it would take would be for Azrael to require one more soul, and he would be too much for even Soren to handle. He knows where the souls reside, and if Soren doesn't then we stand no chance. There would be no saving Faey. Unless…
I cannot let him leave- at least, I cannot let him leave without giving ourselves a chance.
I hope Soren will forgive me.
"Serena? What are you...?" I think Soren realises then the fact that he so obviously missed. The one crucial detail that he had glossed over in his lust for revenge over his brother, and his hurry to have the events of the past swept away with all his guilt, and grief and rage. But such hasty decisions are never made without consequences.
Azrael takes another step back, his back moulding into the wall. This portal is temporary, awakened only by Azrael magic. As soon as he steps inside, it will close, and our chances at winning will be over.
So as Soren watches me dive towards the fading Azrael, his eyes widen with a terrifying realisation of his mistakes, all of which come crashing onto him with one, agonised yell.
Azrael never meant to stick around, after all, that is not what snakes do.
For him, a plan must always have two back doors.
I'm sorry Soren, I whisper in my mind, hoping that against the bereaved wails that he understands the importance of what I must do.
Find the souls. Reunite our people. I promise I will come back to you as soon as I can.
For a while, I do not think I am going to get an answer. That as everything happens in seemingly slow motion- Azrael's disappearance into the wall behind him, my fingers latching onto his arm, I will not get the answer I seek. Soren's hand continues desperately reaching out for mine across the room, the wailing of a little white fox rising in shrill tones, tucked within the spindly tail of a large black dragon as he struggles to break free. As this all happens I all at once fear I will not get an answer from him, that my descent into whatever hell awaits me will be made in silence.
But then a voice, soft and broken calls out in my mind, a voice for the first time in my life, I notice is full of tears.
Be careful, my darling. Do what you must. As soon as you can, tell me where you are, I will find you. Sezeria waits for the return of its Queen.
And with that, everything disappears behind me, the flame, my friends, everything except the gleaming white hair of the vampire Prince, and the flash of red eyes pulling me into the never-ending dark.
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"Between you and me, it might be about time to snuff out that little problem- don't you think?" echoes Soren's words around the room as he prowls forward like a grim shadow of a hunter through the forest, slinking through the trees.
As if hearing his words, shadows coil around his body, readying themselves to decapitate what remains of the white haired abomination that shies before them. Soren is not one to show mercy to the wicked, nor will he ever be.
Azrael raises his hands to shield as Soren's magic collides with his barrier of pearly white light, an echoing clap like thunder bursting around the room, sending shockwaves of sudden terror racing through my body. For a moment the four of us (five if we are counting the unconscious Delina) recoil into the blackness, our vision shaking from the startling impact of magic upon magic. Kal's tail tightens around me and next to me, the fatigued little fox groans in despair. Blinking furiously and half awake, he lifts his limp and loose body up next to me, shivers quaking through his body. But shivering from the cold or from fear, I can hardly tell. Dawn sidles up next to me, peaking over the rim of Kal's scaly dragon skin to watch as Azrael is pushed further back and back by Soren's magic.
"Make him pay, Soren," she whispers, a remarkably startling thing from such a young angel. But then again, she was raised in the clutches of the Council of Angels- Igor is her grandfather, and such phrases are often customary in the talk of vampires and war. She has probably heard much, much worse.
Whether Soren hears this or not, he makes no effort to acknowledge it: his body rigid, yet his eyes are gleaming. He is going in for the kill.
And yet still, still, something feels horribly wrong.
I watch how close Soren is getting, how far he has made his approach, or at least, how far Azrael has willingly let him approach. By all standards of vampire mannerisms, Azrael's defence is sloppy, half-hearted, treating his life in the same way most vampires do when in the face of imminent danger: as if it is expendable. Which of course, to an immortal creature of the night, it mostly always is.
With a flicker of unease I notice how willingly Azrael backs up to the wall, hardly putting up any remote form of struggle or basic survival instincts, aside from that glimmering white shield that ingulfs him. He seems almost entirely... at ease. There is no tension in his body, just a shallow, malignant grin, and a spark in his eyes that sends my blood running cold with fear.
Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong.
"Kill him Soren," Kal calls across the room, a sudden desperation weaving itself into his voice. Perhaps he too has seen it. "Let's get this over with."
Beside me, the little white fox yips in aggravated approval.
"Are you going to kill me, Soren?" Azrael laughs, flashing white pointed canines as the wolves continue to circle him, his fingers shaking with the effort of upholding Soren's magic. A question, not a statement, one last prod at his brother, as if half expecting him not to do it.
"Obviously," Soren growls in a low and reverberating voice, dismissing the thought entirely. Another shot of black, swirling magic collides against Azrael's temporary shield, but this time, some of it slips through, scraping past Azrael's shoulder. To this, Soren only looks over his brother with a mixture of disappointment and disgust.
See, Azrael looks like he is failing- losing in fact, the weakening of his façade of bravery would seem to suggest as much. And yet there is an underlying confidence in his voice as he presses his back against the wall.
"You've always had too much faith in yourself."
And then I see it.
Faint and barely visible in the blackness of the room and the golden, jittery light of the flame, is a portal.
It exists as barely anything: a shimmering light against the back of the wall, a little flicker in reality that only registers as off in my brain because of how foreign the magic is. Only the faery folk use portals to travel- just like the portal that leads me to the place Soren gave me for our wedding present. But it is passed up by Soren, whose vision is blackened with a maddened rage and an unquenchable lust to quash the very creature who sought to ruin not only the life of his kingdom, but his wife too.
Yet that light, that illusion is there, flickering against the shadows of the room, against Azrael's back, and all at once I realise why the white haired vampire had not even tried to fight this whole time.
This entire room houses a portal. On every wall, on every side.
He is trying to escape.
And Soren is about to let him go.
I have seconds at best, seconds to do something, to stop the inevitable from happening. Seconds to prevent Azrael from escaping into the world to sew havoc upon mortal lives, and seconds to stop him from consuming all the other souls for the benefit of none other but himself. Seconds to act. And seconds to think.
And seconds are never enough.
There is only one option, so impossibly far fetched it might just work. Looking down once more, I release the invisible pendant I have been clutching in my palm, letting fear slip away, leaving a rock hard determination in its place. Beginning to clamber over Kal's tail, I scramble to get a footing, to make my way towards the white hair vampire. A millisecond in passing and Kal suddenly realises that I am not staying put, a growl of alarm echoing through the chamber. As I scramble my way over slippery scales and rocky ground, bound towards Azrael, his tail whips out to catch me, but it is a second to late.
There are never enough seconds.
Soren spares a glance towards me, his eyes widening at the look of determination that is plastered across my features, and then confusion as I race towards Azrael, my hand outstretched, hoping, praying it won't be too late. Azrael takes a small step back, his eyes glued to me, as though not quite believing what he is seeing.
I can imagine what he is thinking now, and I don't like it one bit.
But if Azrael disappears, he will be gone forever, and it will be too late for us to stop him. All it would take would be for Azrael to require one more soul, and he would be too much for even Soren to handle. He knows where the souls reside, and if Soren doesn't then we stand no chance. There would be no saving Faey. Unless…
I cannot let him leave- at least, I cannot let him leave without giving ourselves a chance.
I hope Soren will forgive me.
"Serena? What are you...?" I think Soren realises then the fact that he so obviously missed. The one crucial detail that he had glossed over in his lust for revenge over his brother, and his hurry to have the events of the past swept away with all his guilt, and grief and rage. But such hasty decisions are never made without consequences.
Azrael takes another step back, his back moulding into the wall. This portal is temporary, awakened only by Azrael magic. As soon as he steps inside, it will close, and our chances at winning will be over.
So as Soren watches me dive towards the fading Azrael, his eyes widen with a terrifying realisation of his mistakes, all of which come crashing onto him with one, agonised yell.
Azrael never meant to stick around, after all, that is not what snakes do.
For him, a plan must always have two back doors.
I'm sorry Soren, I whisper in my mind, hoping that against the bereaved wails that he understands the importance of what I must do.
Find the souls. Reunite our people. I promise I will come back to you as soon as I can.
For a while, I do not think I am going to get an answer. That as everything happens in seemingly slow motion- Azrael's disappearance into the wall behind him, my fingers latching onto his arm, I will not get the answer I seek. Soren's hand continues desperately reaching out for mine across the room, the wailing of a little white fox rising in shrill tones, tucked within the spindly tail of a large black dragon as he struggles to break free. As this all happens I all at once fear I will not get an answer from him, that my descent into whatever hell awaits me will be made in silence.
But then a voice, soft and broken calls out in my mind, a voice for the first time in my life, I notice is full of tears.
Be careful, my darling. Do what you must. As soon as you can, tell me where you are, I will find you. Sezeria waits for the return of its Queen.
And with that, everything disappears behind me, the flame, my friends, everything except the gleaming white hair of the vampire Prince, and the flash of red eyes pulling me into the never-ending dark.
"Between you and me, it might be about time to snuff out that little problem- don't you think?" echoes Soren's words around the room as he prowls forward like a grim shadow of a hunter through the forest, slinking through the trees.As if hearing his words, shadows coil around his body, readying themselves to decapitate what remains of the white haired abomination that shies before them. Soren is not one to show mercy to the wicked, nor will he ever be. Azrael raises his hands to shield as Soren's magic collides with his barrier of pearly white light, an echoing clap like thunder bursting around the room, sending shockwaves of sudden terror racing through my body. For a moment the four of us five if we are counting the unconscious Delina recoil into the blackness, our vision shaking from the startling impact of magic upon magic. Kal's tail tightens around me and next to me, the fatigued little fox groans in despair. Blinking furiously and half awake, he lifts his limp and loose body up next to me, shivers quaking through his body. But shivering from the cold or from fear, I can hardly tell. Dawn sidles up next to me, peaking over the rim of Kal's scaly dragon skin to watch as Azrael is pushed further back and back by Soren's magic."Make him pay, Soren," she whispers, a remarkably startling thing from such a young angel. But then again, she was raised in the clutches of the Council of Angels- Igor is her grandfather, and such phrases are often customary in the talk of vampires and war. She has probably heard much, much worse.Whether Soren hears this or not, he makes no effort to acknowledge it: his body rigid, yet his eyes are gleaming. He is going in for the kill.And yet still, still, something feels horribly wrong.I watch how close Soren is getting, how far he has made his approach, or at least, how far Azrael has willingly let him approach. By all standards of vampire mannerisms, Azrael's defence is sloppy, half-hearted, treating his life in the same way most vampires do when in the face of imminent danger: as if it is expendable. Which of course, to an immortal creature of the night, it mostly always is.With a flicker of unease I notice how willingly Azrael backs up to the wall, hardly putting up any remote form of struggle or basic survival instincts, aside from that glimmering white shield that ingulfs him. He seems almost entirely... at ease. There is no tension in his body, just a shallow, malignant grin, and a spark in his eyes that sends my blood running cold with fear.Something is wrong here. Something is very, very wrong."Kill him Soren," Kal calls across the room, a sudden desperation weaving itself into his voice. Perhaps he too has seen it. "Let's get this over with."Beside me, the little white fox yips in aggravated approval. "Are you going to kill me, Soren?" Azrael laughs, flashing white pointed canines as the wolves continue to circle him, his fingers shaking with the effort of upholding Soren's magic. A question, not a statement, one last prod at his brother, as if half expecting him not to do it."Obviously," Soren growls in a low and reverberating voice, dismissing the thought entirely. Another shot of black, swirling magic collides against Azrael's temporary shield, but this time, some of it slips through, scraping past Azrael's shoulder. To this, Soren only looks over his brother with a mixture of disappointment and disgust.See, Azrael looks like he is failing- losing in fact, the weakening of his faade of bravery would seem to suggest as much. And yet there is an underlying confidence in his voice as he presses his back against the wall."You've always had too much faith in yourself."And then I see it.Faint and barely visible in the blackness of the room and the golden, jittery light of the flame, is a portal.It exists as barely anything: a shimmering light against the back of the wall, a little flicker in reality that only registers as off in my brain because of how foreign the magic is. Only the faery folk use portals to travel- just like the portal that leads me to the place Soren gave me for our wedding present. But it is passed up by Soren, whose vision is blackened with a maddened rage and an unquenchable lust to quash the very creature who sought to ruin not only the life of his kingdom, but his wife too.Yet that light, that illusion is there, flickering against the shadows of the room, against Azrael's back, and all at once I realise why the white haired vampire had not even tried to fight this whole time.This entire room houses a portal. On every wall, on every side.He is trying to escape.And Soren is about to let him go.I have seconds at best, seconds to do something, to stop the inevitable from happening. Seconds to prevent Azrael from escaping into the world to sew havoc upon mortal lives, and seconds to stop him from consuming all the other souls for the benefit of none other but himself. Seconds to act. And seconds to think. And seconds are never enough.There is only one option, so impossibly far fetched it might just work. Looking down once more, I release the invisible pendant I have been clutching in my palm, letting fear slip away, leaving a rock hard determination in its place. Beginning to clamber over Kal's tail, I scramble to get a footing, to make my way towards the white hair vampire. A millisecond in passing and Kal suddenly realises that I am not staying put, a growl of alarm echoing through the chamber. As I scramble my way over slippery scales and rocky ground, bound towards Azrael, his tail whips out to catch me, but it is a second to late.There are never enough seconds.Soren spares a glance towards me, his eyes widening at the look of determination that is plastered across my features, and then confusion as I race towards Azrael, my hand outstretched, hoping, praying it won't be too late. Azrael takes a small step back, his eyes glued to me, as though not quite believing what he is seeing.I can imagine what he is thinking now, and I don't like it one bit. But if Azrael disappears, he will be gone forever, and it will be too late for us to stop him. All it would take would be for Azrael to require one more soul, and he would be too much for even Soren to handle. He knows where the souls reside, and if Soren doesn't then we stand no chance. There would be no saving Faey. UnlessI cannot let him leave- at least, I cannot let him leave without giving ourselves a chance.I hope Soren will forgive me."Serena? What are you...?" I think Soren realises then the fact that he so obviously missed. The one crucial detail that he had glossed over in his lust for revenge over his brother, and his hurry to have the events of the past swept away with all his guilt, and grief and rage. But such hasty decisions are never made without consequences.Azrael takes another step back, his back moulding into the wall. This portal is temporary, awakened only by Azrael magic. As soon as he steps inside, it will close, and our chances at winning will be over. So as Soren watches me dive towards the fading Azrael, his eyes widen with a terrifying realisation of his mistakes, all of which come crashing onto him with one, agonised yell.Azrael never meant to stick around, after all, that is not what snakes do. For him, a plan must always have two back doors.I'm sorry Soren, I whisper in my mind, hoping that against the bereaved wails that he understands the importance of what I must do.Find the souls. Reunite our people. I promise I will come back to you as soon as I can.For a while, I do not think I am going to get an answer. That as everything happens in seemingly slow motion- Azrael's disappearance into the wall behind him, my fingers latching onto his arm, I will not get the answer I seek. Soren's hand continues desperately reaching out for mine across the room, the wailing of a little white fox rising in shrill tones, tucked within the spindly tail of a large black dragon as he struggles to break free. As this all happens I all at once fear I will not get an answer from him, that my descent into whatever hell awaits me will be made in silence.But then a voice, soft and broken calls out in my mind, a voice for the first time in my life, I notice is full of tears.Be careful, my darling. Do what you must. As soon as you can, tell me where you are, I will find you. Sezeria waits for the return of its Queen. And with that, everything disappears behind me, the flame, my friends, everything except the gleaming white hair of the vampire Prince, and the flash of red eyes pulling me into the never-ending dark.
