by N M Thorn
Thank you, Mara… He laughed, barely recognizing his voice, and exhaled a single word, “Exitius…”
Two rays of magical energy—a white one and a purple one—erupted from his hands. Entwining with each other, they impacted the glass cylinders with a tremendous force. The magically reinforced glass blew up, and a thunderous bang echoed through the bunker. The shards of glass flew in every direction, biting into Damian’s arms, chest and face.
Time slowed down.
The concentrated magical energy exploded outward, consuming everything in its way, burning the skin and flesh off his face and chest. As an unbearable pain assailed him, he dropped to his knees, and then collapsed to his side. The phantoms hissed and twisted in place, their deformed bodies evaporating like from an atomic blast, leaving nothing behind.
The ceiling caved in, and the floor under him cracked. Time resumed its motion, and the magical storm consumed him. His body was taken apart cell by cell, and for a brief moment, he ceased to exist, hovering in his astral form high above the raving inferno he created. But then something dark and imperceptible wrapped around him, pulling him back together, restoring his broken body. With that came pain. He wanted to fight it, but he couldn’t. His mouth opened, but no sound came out from his constricted throat.
The bunker collapsed with a deafening noise, burying him under giant chunks of concrete and debris, crushing his battered body. Long, steel rods pierced his chest and stomach, ripping through his heart, and he knew it was the end.
With the last spark of his dwindling consciousness, he reached to his brother through their blood bond.
“Cole, I’m sorry… live well, brat moi…”
Chapter 32
~ Cole Adams ~
Teleporting with the gargoyle, Cole made a full circle around Downtown and finally stopped by Archmage Allerton’s side where Ruslan, Sylvana and Ricardo with his sister sat on the sidewalk, waiting for him. Petrukha was pacing by the wall, clenching his hands nervously. No more than a couple of city blocks away, a half-demolished building stood out against the dark sky like a sore thumb, and Cole couldn’t take his eyes off of it.
An enormous dome of protective magic encapsulated what was left of the building. Glowing with a dim, white light, it was prominent against the ultramarine sky slightly shaded by the first colors of early dawn, and the only reason human authorities hadn’t arrived yet was that the Archmage and the Guardians mages had shadowed the entire area, concealing all disturbances—mundane and magical—from human eyes.
The flow of magic had been restored, and Cole could feel the presence of magical energy sharper than he had ever felt it before. Both swords in his hands were glowing, emitting a soft red and blue light, and his entire body buzzed and vibrated on the inside, responding to the call of these strange weapons.
“Mr. Adams, can you explain why Commander Blake requested such a powerful shield over that area? It was never a part of his original plan,” Archmage Allerton asked, waving in the direction of the half-demolished building.
Cole didn’t react. He didn’t ignore the question. He was afraid of what he would have to say if he needed to explain everything.
“Cole, what’s going on? What’s your brother planning to do?” Ruslan approached him and placed his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Cole raised his eyes at his maker, his chest tight with the expectation of something terrible—something he could neither prevent nor fix.
“Father, please, don’t ask. Not now—"
A loud grinding noise echoed through the empty streets, interrupting him, and slow tremors spread through the ground, originating somewhere in the area of the underground bunker. The magical energy field over it spiked with such a ferocious force that the Archmage gasped, his eyes igniting with a blinding white light.
Trying not to think of what this could mean, Cole sheathed one of his swords and approached Allerton, pointing at the building. “Is that the strongest shield you and your mages can conjure?”
“Yes, it is,” replied the Archmage, deep wrinkles crossing his forehead. “Besides me and the high-level Guardians mages, Captain Svetlov, Grand Master Elony and her slayers, as well as two goddesses have joined the effort. This shield is as strong as they come.”
Cole nibbled on his lip, trying to deal with the unusual for him trepidation but to no avail. He didn’t breathe, and his heart wasn’t beating, yet he felt lightheaded and slightly dizzy, the tips of his fingers tingling. A gentle touch to his mind made him halt with his eyes wide open. His brother’s voice filled their connection with endless warmth and sadness. For some reason, the connection wasn’t clear, and he couldn’t make out what Damian was saying, but the emotional message was enough for him to understand him without any words.
“Oh, God,” Cole moaned, taking a step toward the building involuntarily. “Please, Dima… don’t do it…”
“Cole, what is he doing?” Ruslan asked.
“Saving us all,” whispered Cole. “He—"
A powerful explosion rattled the area, and a column of blinding white light burst out from the place where the building had been just a moment ago. The ray of concentrated magical energy impacted the protective dome, expanding within it. Allerton roared, leaning back with his arms spread as he struggled to hold the shield. A thick, pulsing vein crossed his forehead, and a deep shade of magenta colored his strained face, but he didn’t let go.
Cole raised his arm, shielding his eyes from the brilliant glow, but no matter how hard he tried, he could see nothing. A strong gust of wind rushed through the street, carrying sand and dust, and suddenly, everything went silent. The light dwindled, and Cole lowered his arm, blinking to readjust his vision.
The building was gone, a tall pile of debris remaining in its place. He reached to Damian through their blood bond but didn’t find a connection. His experience told him it could mean only one thing—his brother was no longer among the living, but his mind refused to believe it.
“Dima?” he called tentatively. There was no answer. No connection. No sign of life. He stilled, turning into an unmoving statue in that eerie way only vampires could. The light in his eyes vanished, and a deep ache settled in his soul while his mind still refused to believe. “Dima, no…”
With a low groan, Archmage Allerton let go of his magic and dropped his arms, sweat running down his face. As the shield slowly dissipated, he turned around to face Cole, an expression of remorse etched on his features. Cole took in his appearance, and a wave of defiance surged through him.
“Mr. Adams,” started the Archmage. “Cole, I’m sorry… The amount of concentrated magical energy would have been deadly even for—”
“Don’t say it,” Cole hissed, backing away from him. “I don’t want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone else.” He glanced back at his maker, but Ruslan averted his gaze, a muscle twitching in his tightly pressed jaw.
With a light pop, Grand Master Elony appeared next to them, and then Zabava followed with her hand on Oleg’s shoulder. Lowering himself down next to Ruslan, Zhulik dropped his head with a soft whine-like howl, and now, he truly looked like a sad little puppy.
Cole regarded all the people surrounding him, the sympathetic expressions on their faces making his stomach heave, and he took another step back. Even though most of them meant well, he just couldn’t take it. He needed a moment for himself to process, to understand, and he couldn’t do it with everyone looking at him, as if expecting for him to say something.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered to the Archmage, his vocal cords too sore to function properly. “Please, give me a moment to... I need to…” He desperately searched for the right words, but his mind was painfully blank. “I’ll be right back.”
Without waiting for anyone’s response, he pivoted on his heels and headed into the dark alley. He made sure no one could see him and halted in the shadow of a building, resting his back against the wall. He squeezed his head with his hands and bent forward, his mouth open in a silent screa
m, both denial and anger ripping his soul apart.
“It’s gonna be all right, little vamp,” a soft female voice sounded in his mind, and Cole sprang up, searching for the source of the whispers. “It’s Mara, your dream goddess.” The voice giggled. “We need to have a word, and the sooner we do it, the better for you.”
“Mara?” he whispered tentatively, surveying the alley.
“I’m here.” The goddess of Nightmares stepped out of the shadows, her long black hair moving in soft waves around her even though there wasn’t even the slightest breeze. She halted before Cole and tilted her head, staring at the sword with the blue stone in his hand with unconcealed curiosity. Then her eyes darted to the pommel of his other sword sheathed behind his back, and she chuckled, shaking her head.
“What did you want to talk about?” asked Cole, barely finding the strength to produce coherent words. “I’m not in the mood for your—"
“You, little vamp. I wanted to talk about you.” She reached for his sword, moving the tips of her fingers over the cold steel. “I should have figured it out earlier. But even gods can get blindsided.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Cole, pulling away.
“The Darkness touched by the Light,” she whispered breathlessly.
“No,” Cole objected quietly, staring to the side so she couldn’t see the haunted look in his eyes. “Impossible. This prophecy cannot be about me. My brother is—”
“Alive,” Mara breathed out, a strange longing crossing her face. “Well, technically he’s very much dead… but he won’t be for much longer. So, trust me, you don’t want anyone else to know your little secret.” She giggled. “Give me this sword, and I’ll hide it until you’re ready to claim it back. No one should know that you can wield the…” Her voice trailed away, and her lips quirked up. “I don’t think you should know it either. You’re not ready.”
“Mara,” Cole growled. He seized her arm and pulled her closer. She didn’t resist, leaning into his chest willingly. “Stop speaking in riddles. Tell me the truth.”
She giggled again, covering her mouth with her free hand in such a girly manner that Cole had to force himself not to roll his eyes.
“I would, but can you handle the truth?” She arched her brow. “This is the reason we gods speak in riddles, work in mysterious ways, and avoid direct communication with humans. You people can’t take the gospel truth, too delicate for the brutal reality.”
Cole threw his hands up and turned away, starting on his way out of the alley.
“Wait, Cole, fine!” Mara yelled, and he halted, waiting for her to catch up. “Cole, these two swords chose you, otherwise you wouldn’t be able to wield them, and I saw them respond to your magic—the magic, which you as a vampire shouldn’t have had in the first place.”
She pressed her hand to her chest, her eyes growing darker. “Hello, Godslayer. So nice to make your acquaintance…” She reached up, brushing her cold fingertips over his cheek.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Cole growled, waving her hand off as if she were nothing more than an annoying mosquito.
“As far as I recall, these two swords are the only weapons that can kill gods or any of their equals. Like an indestructible Navij, for example…” A playful smile touched her lips. “They were created by one of the ancient ones millennia ago and forged in the breath of the first dragon, and until today, no one else could invoke their power. This makes you the new Godslayer, the killer of gods. And if anyone finds out—both you and your brother will be in more danger than you can handle. No one should know these swords have been reunited. No one should know what you have become… Let me hide one of these swords until you and Damian are ready to deal with this situation.”
“Why are you doing it, Mara?” Cole asked, narrowing his eyes. “You’re a dark deity. You don’t do charitable deeds. It’s not in your nature.”
“You’re right,” she agreed with a half-shrug. “The idea of helping someone without getting anything back hurts me more than I can say.” She looked away for a moment. “The truth is, I’m doing it for your brother. Tell Damian this has nothing to do with our deal. This is personal, and he owes me one.” Then she pressed her fist to her chest and kneeled before Cole, inclining her head. “Here goes… Cole Adams, I swear on my power that I’ll keep your secret safe, and that I will return this sword to you or Damian at your first request.” She rose to her feet, gazing up at him. “Now, give it to me because the show is about to get started, and you don’t want to miss it.” She took her long, black veil off and placed it around Cole’s neck. “Don’t ask any questions. You’ll thank me later.”
A feeling of unease twisted his gut, but Cole pushed it to the back of his mind and gave the sword to the goddess of Nightmares. Mara was right. Until he knew more about the prophecy and how to handle the situation, he needed to keep the sword hidden. Donna Luna’s mysterious master was actively searching for the brothers who fit the prophecy, and that alone was a serious reason for concern.
He opened his mouth to ask Mara if she knew anything about this person, but before he could say anything, she snapped her fingers and vanished. With a heavy heart, he started on his way back when a deep tremor rumbled through the ground. He halted, surveying the area.
Even without a second sight, he could feel some strange disturbances in the area. The tremors rushed through the asphalt again, and a flock of birds took off from the roofs and wires, rising high into the sky with piercing screeches. The wind picked up, too cold for this time of the year, scattering pieces of newspapers and litter all over the road. The tremors increased, morphing into a continuous earthquake, and it seemed like nature was responding to whatever was happening out there.
“Dima,” Cole whispered, hope igniting in his soul. He zoomed through the alley and halted sharply next to the Archmage, making him flinch and hop back.
“Allerton, please tell me you’re still shadowing the area around the bunker,” he said through clenched teeth, pointing at the demolished building.
“No,” the Archmage whispered, sweat beading his forehead. “I didn’t think I had a need since—"
“My brother is an immortal Child of Earth!” Cole yelled. “Of course, you had a need!”
“Mr. Adams, you’re grieving. So, I’ll forgive you for your ignorance and disrespectful behavior. Even an immortal god couldn’t have survived the direct impact of such an enormous amount of concentrated magical energy. It’s like a magical atomic bomb,” Grand Master Elony said coldly, placing her hands on her hips. “Your brother, as powerful as he was, had a human body, and it would have been obliterated at the first blast. He couldn’t have survived it, and the elemental energy of Earth wouldn’t be able to bring him back because there wouldn’t be anything to bring back. I hate to say it, but your brother is gone.”
“Keep hating to say it,” Cole snapped at her and turned to the Archmage. “Please, my lord, shadow the bunker now, before it is too late.”
“It’s too late,” the Archmage echoed, staring in the direction of the demolished building, transfixed.
“I’ve never felt so much elemental energy of Earth even in Kendral… Oh, God…” Oleg threw his head back, opening his arms. He was breathing hard, his chest shuddering with short, uneven breaths, and his body lit up with a bright glow, responding to the massive elemental storm raging around them.
A dome, shining with dazzling orange light, encapsulated the area above the bunker. It was growing brighter and brighter, quickly spreading around, its movement accompanied by tremors, loud grinding noise and powerful gusts of wind. Its radiance became so bright that it was unbearable to look at. The tremors grew stronger, and a few cars responded with shrilling howls of security alarms, adding to the clamor of the earthquake.
“Heaven and Earth! We’re exposing the World of Magic!” shouted the Archmage, his face distorted by fear. With a shaking hand, he drew a glowing rune in the air, whispering a summoning call.
As
the light slowly decreased, Cole saw a man levitating above the ruins, his giant black wings stark against the morning sky. His long black hair fell in a disarray of strands to his shoulders and back, partially covering his face, and the first rays of the rising sun colored his absolutely unobstructed body in soft reddish and yellow shades.
“Dima?” Cole searched for the blood bond with his brother, but it was gone. “Damian,” he whispered.
Damian turned in midair, and Cole could swear his glowing eyes settled on his. His brother raised his hand and snapped his fingers. As soon as he manifested next to Cole, he dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms and his wings around himself in an attempt to cover his state of undress. His entire body was shaking either from cold or from whatever he had gone through, and he kept his head bowed down.
Cole took one knee in front of him and gently moved his long hair off his face, realizing with shock that his brother looked the way he did when he was still human, before he died the first human death. The only difference was that he still had the ugly scar disfiguring the left side of his face, and even without checking, Cole was sure the scars on Damian’s back were still intact as well.
Just now he remembered about the veil Mara had given him and couldn’t help but shake his head. The goddess knew what was coming, but of course, she wouldn’t tell him straight. He took the veil, offering it to his brother.
“Dima, are you okay?” he asked gently.
“No…” Damian whispered, his hands tightening into fists, his every muscle tense. He took the veil and got up, quickly wrapping it around his hips. Then he rolled his shoulders, moving his head slowly from left to right, and his wings disappeared.
“What happened, Commander?” asked Archmage Allerton, approaching him from behind, and Damian spun around, his glowing eyes igniting brighter. “Did you kill the demon?”
