by K R Leikvoll
He loathed me, and he loved me. We were two distinct forces colliding and entangling, on course to destroy ourselves. Something about realizing we were beyond control changed us. I accepted I was incapable of preventing Vince from creating the Nephilim if it was his destiny. If I could not stop him – if he gained a weapon strong enough to destroy cosmic entities – I would take his place in Treachery. It felt like I was breathing on borrowed, precious time.
There were only two or three occasions I snapped out of the sedating state I was cast in. I tried to kill him, and naturally, it did not work, only further proving I was fighting a lost cause. Vincent’s mental state was apparent in his response to those attacks. We would make love for days afterward like it was the most erotic scenario he had ever experienced. He would whisper his hatred of me, but his body remained glued to mine. I would fight it for as long as I could in vain before submitting to my desires. The paradise I longed for was in those moments, and I had to cherish them before time ran out. I was going to pay the price for my weakness.
All I wanted was him. It has always been him.
Raven caught me on my way to the library several weeks after my outburst. I had been avoiding him, refusing to leave Vince’s side until I knew I could walk around without anyone crossing my path. There was no part of me that wished to hear displeasures. I felt I was enduring ultimate defeat, living out my final days.
The library, and essentially all of the palace, was mostly deserted. The plagues eating Praetis had taken most of the Kaedan population, even those in Duskwraith. Without Sendrys, Fevith, and Devith or various nobles, public areas seemed private. I was looking for a blank tome; one that was ordinary and unnoticeable. I wanted to record my final thoughts, though I wished for none to read them.
I scanned over the worn spines of the thickest, eldest books, searching for anything unused. A rustic brown journal caught my eye and I reached to remove it when the chill of Raven’s hand grabbed mine. I jumped, startled, as I was so deep in my own mind, I was not paying attention to my surroundings.
“Lazarus,” he whispered softly. His tone was uncharacteristically impassioned. So much so, I might have started to weep if I possessed the capacity. I pulled my hand from him, keeping my gaze on the rows of books.
“I don’t want to talk.”
“We need to come up with a plan –”
“No. No more plans. Praetis is finished. That is all I can offer our Gods.”
“But Vince –” I tried to walk away, but he grabbed me again and forced me to turn around.
His face was wrought with intense exhaustion. Though he was always slight, he had grown skeletal. He looked like he had not slept a day in his life. His hair was wild; his clothing was a mess. It worried me to see him in that state, but I knew there was nothing I could do.
“I can’t kill him,” I replied so quietly I barely heard myself. “I’m too weak. There is no use in fighting anymore.”
“Listen to me,” he said sharply, holding me still and close. “This is not over. That thought is an illusion Vince is projecting on you.” He peered through the walls, toward our tower. I could see Vince too, stirring and growing restless from our distance, though his form was faint. “This is a part of his game. You are his biggest threat and he’s keeping you close where you can’t do damage. There are more ways to win than you think.”
“Like what?”
“He needs either the Scroll or the Divinus – if we kill Eve before he gets his hands on her, he won’t be able to create the Nephilim.”
“Assuming that the Divinus knows.”
“And what alternative is there, pray to tell me? Are you really going to back down after all of the progress we have made for Naazvaba? There is still a chance, Lazarus.”
His words struck me. Was it not worth it to try? Being spoon fed pleasure after a disastrous period spent mourning Varnoc was mind-numbing. Manipulating me under the guise of madness was not beyond Vince. After digesting Raven’s words, it seemed exactly the type of thing Vince would do with the planetary issue escalating. Praetis was the only place he claimed he could create the Nephilim, so he had to do it soon, or the chance was gone forever. That is if he was not lying about that as well.
“And how are we supposed to –”
I was interrupted by a deep tremor of the earth, as powerful as an explosion. It knocked me into Raven, who fell into one of the obsidian bookshelves, bringing the entire thing down in a loud crash. Once we regained our balance, we both looked to the tower where Vince lie. I still was incapable of sensing him through our bond, but I could see his crimson form climbing to his feet. I nearly felt the urge to run to him to make sure he was okay, but that could wait. He was not the source of the earthquake. My eyes traced through the tunnels of the dungeons beneath us.
“There!” Raven pointed to the eastern side of the palace. The sight was enough to cause War to solidify in my hands. It was a party of twelve, breaking their way through the tunnel from the Black Sea – the tunnel that led directly under the palace. Raven and I bolted for the dungeons, flinging ourselves down the staircase and into the darkness with our weapons drawn.
Shouting in a foreign language, one I certainly did not recognize, (which must have made it Basulian), echoed through the channel. Six heavily cloaked assassins brandished swords and long knives. Their concealing cowls were unique, marked with the golden sigil of Lux. It was puzzling, for who could possibly be naïve enough to believe assassins capable of killing a demon coven?
I reached out a hand to summon flames, but to my shock, my magic sputtered and I was refused demonic power. Raven followed up my attempt as not to give them an opening, raising Pestilence above his head. A swarm of green burst from his scythe.
The entire underground corridor filled with a noxious vapor. Though it was not harmful to me, it was still rancid with the scent of death and difficult to remain in. The assassins called out a few words, but were otherwise unaffected, clutching their cowls close to their mouths and noses. They leapt at us collectively, but they weren’t trying to reach the surface.
“You are unworthy.” War tried to recede, causing a mildly painful sensation when I forced it to remain physical. Even the Dark Essentia was rejecting me! I had truly fallen from Naazvaba’s grace.
Raven spun around the first of their attacks with ease, summoning the full potential of Pestilence. Although it was seamless, as if he was doing everything without thought, I knew he was aware I was having difficulties. I pushed on my demonic power again, focusing all of my energy on my fingertips. No hint of crimson light or flame spurred.
Lord Nakarius… it’s not over yet, I swear it.
Raven skewered one of the assassins with his wings, flinging them into one of their allies with enough force to send them flying. Pestilence parried the quick reactions of another. All I could do was stand and watch like a bystander, utterly hopeless. Raven kicked the man in the gut, following with a bash to the face with the staff of his scythe.
“Gather James and go after the others,” Raven shouted over his shoulder. “They are still trying to enter through the eastern library.” Another assassin nearly sliced him in half with a pair of daggers, only missing because they were forced to dodge a slash from Pestilence. I did not wait to see if he was sure – I fled as fast as I could toward our tower.
Could the intruders be a prerequisite to the Luxain forces themselves? I focused on the direction of the sea as I bounded up the staircase. Nothing – at least that I could see, though surely the Divinus was capable of blocking demonic sight. I would have to check physically.
How would the Luxians know about the secret tunnel leading to the sea in the first place? We had blockaded it, but they knew that it led into the palace given their determination to get through what appeared to be a dead end.
Lydris. Obviously! Why not just give them a key to the front entrance, then? He told them whatever he needed to gain acceptance. Even in service of Vincent, he spilled secrets that threatened u
s all. I was going to have Raven gut him before the world completely collapsed – pain involved be damned.
James and Vince met me at the top of our tower’s staircase. While James was wide-eyed and alert, my Master appeared far iller than he had the day previously. Shadows trailed near his feet, as he was unable to smother the powers seeking to rip him in half.
“What’s happening?” James asked, unsheathing his giant sword. He was not dressed to fight; he was wearing a loose tunic and dark pants without shoes. Vince was not any better, in the silk robe he usually wore after his baths.
“Intruders. Six in the dungeons with Raven, and six trying to break in through the library.” They were not trying anymore; instead, I could see them scrambling in different directions above ground in the atheneum unchallenged.
“I’ll go to Raven,” James replied quickly, throwing himself down the stairs and toward the dungeons. I looked nervously to Vince, overwhelmingly aware that he would witness my lack of control. He gave me a stare I could not begin to read and dispersed into shadows, not wasting time with words. I was forced to run after him, cursing at my blades the entire way.
I threw open the library’s main entrance – I thought – before Vince arrived. I caught sight of one assassin with a rucksack full of scrolls, diving into the hole they blasted in the flooring. Was this a robbery – not an assassination attempt? I wished to know their motives, as I could not strain hard enough to recall what they could possibly want from our collection.
I went for the one closest to the doorway, pulling an unused sword from a pile on one of the tables. It felt like a lifetime since I had used regular steel. The sort of training I endured was not something easily forgotten, however. I tackled the assassin as hard as I could, bringing my blade down to end him. The sound of our weapons meeting echoed around us, drawing the attention of the other intruders. I jumped backward out of range, watching for his allies that might attempt to aid him. To my surprise, they were still gathering scrolls without another thought.
The assassin facing me turned his back to grab tomes. I actually paused, bewildered that they were so suicidal. I almost thought they were clones or golems, as no mortal would ever turn their back to me for books! I ran forward to plunge my sword in his spine, and he dodged to the side as if he could see out of the back of his head. My sword continued forward and bent from the force of colliding with a stone wall.
I released my hold on it and grabbed for his arm. Once I had a firm grasp, I clamped down tight enough to make him drop his blade. I ripped his cowl from his head, revealing him to be a tattooed Basulian man. He had dark skin and bright golden eyes – clearly from the Luxian Empire and acting on their behalf. I used the only weapon I had available to end him, tearing his throat out with my teeth.
Without warning, the room went black, completely blocking out any natural lighting that may have entered through the ruby windows, like a shadowy sphere. It was cold, bone-achingly so. I dropped the man to the floor as he choked to death, unconcerned about him being a threat, for a push as hard as rushing wind collided with my shoulders. It was strong enough to bring me to my knees. I was in awe – the sensation was that of a higher power. I thought perhaps Lord Nakarius was returning to me, or that I might be having a vision of Lord Baelarius. With my luck, it was neither.
Vince materialized in the center of the room. The dark bubble surrounding us collapsed in on itself, pulling everything inward. Books, scrolls, the body, the other intruders and I were caught in the vortex. The men screamed – I watched in horror as their flesh melted off of their bodies, and their souls absorbed into Vince’s being. I expected the same to happen to me, bracing myself and awaiting pain.
The shadows burst outward, sending everything flying chaotically, destroying most of our spellbooks and sacred knowledge in the process. Vincent’s eyes had grown wholly black – he was unable to stop it from destroying the palace around us. I fought against the immense gravity, trying to make it to him before he killed himself.
The focus on his face and his delicate stance were growing lax. I clawed at the floor and fought with all my might until I made it to his side. He was fully unconscious by the time I fearfully wrapped my arms around him. I held on tightly, hoping that he would not implode from the force that refused to cease.
Curious, isn’t it?
At that moment, I was trying to save him! If he perished from his lack of control, my duty was fulfilled, and I would be spared Treachery. So, why was I so desperate to keep him intact? How helpless I was to his will! If I was the Void Lords, I would have forsaken myself as well. I covered him as much as I could, attempting to take his torment within. I did not fear death as a result. It seemed worth it – to prove my love. I was no match for fighting fate.
The shadows stopped, dispersing into vapor and dissolving from sight. The dark light of the stars flooded the chamber once more as we fell to the ground collectively from relief. Well, I did from relief. My Master was already unconscious. He was breathing shallowly, and his eyes remained open, but he did not stir when I tried to rouse him. They were still totally black and rolled back into his head after a minute or so. I thought he might awake, as I felt him lightly touch my arm, so I shook him again. There was still no response.
“My love,” I murmured weakly against his feverish forehead. Nothing changed.
I scanned the mess around us. One of the burglars had escaped, but the red forms had disappeared from the dungeons, which meant James and Raven had finished them off. They were searching for something, leaving me and Vince completely alone. I looked back to him, cradled in my arms. He was utterly helpless. Numbly, I reached for the dagger of one of our expired foes and held it close to my chest.
I could kill him… I could kill him.
I smoothed his hair away from his eyes and brushed my lips to his. Was that his way of telling me to end his suffering? Would we not be happier in the Void together, away from the plights of these mortal worlds?
I lowered the dagger until it rested left of his breastbone. I imagined his heart was beautiful to look upon, resting so near for me to take for safekeeping. My eyes closed and I took a deep breath. We could be free of that hell soon – and Treachery was not Treachery as long as we remained together. My hand shook as I tried to plunge the blade between his ribs.
Please… let this be finished.
I called on every Void Lord – even Azotl’s essence itself. I begged. I pleaded.
And I was met with silence.
“Is he alright?” a voice called from behind us, near the door. James. I dropped the dagger to my side. I was hopeless to my core. Vince could be caught defenseless and he was still safe from harm. Harm it was not, as I thought we would be far more content in the Void.
“I’m not sure.”
James kneeled at our side and studied our Master’s eyes. When he went to take him from me, I reacted horribly, swiping his hands away in a fit. I did not trust James and I especially did not trust him with our Master unconscious. He was too neutral – too unreadable. It was a warning I knew better than to ignore.
“Lazarus… I won’t hurt him. I’ve seen this before. Just let me take a closer look,” he urged gently, trying to restore my rationality. Reluctantly, I allowed him to take Vince into his arms. He whispered a few demonic words, roughly translating to, “Where are you?”
To which Vince replied, “The Null.”
I had no idea what that word meant, nor do I know this day its true origin. It was not demonic, but it was of no language I had heard before. When I tried to mutter it to myself, I could not force the sounds to leave my lips. It was mildly distressing. Where was the Null? If he was here how could he be somewhere else, if it was not the Void?
“What does it mean?” I asked, struggling to remove my gaze from Vince so I could focus on the answer.
“I’m not sure,” James replied, carefully picking him up into his grasp fully. “It’s like a trance… he always says the same thing, after a surge of power. T
he last time was when we killed Zerrigor.”
Zerrigor was the last dragon to fall – nearly five millenniums ago. Everyone knew the name of the horrible Black, even children. If I had to guess, he gorged himself in dragon’s blood that day as he had recently. I have deduced after careful thinking that it was in the language of dragons, and he was the only one worthy enough to utter them. If it was a mere lie, James would not have picked an event so significant.
“Did any of them get away?” James asked as we walked toward the tower.
“One.”
“I wonder what they were sent for. Raven is searching the corpses for clues, but I don’t think he’ll find much. They were wearing the barest of essentials.”
“They were robbing us,” I replied evenly, trying to keep my composure despite how shook I felt. “They wanted scrolls… I don’t know why.”
We laid Vince in his bed, and neither of us refused to leave his side. I am sure James thought I would slit his throat but little did he know I was horribly far from capable. I did not leave because I couldn’t… or did not wish to; the difference was nonexistent.
“They had nothing noteworthy,” Raven told us when he finally made it back to the tower. The palace was eerily silent. The only people that were not kin still roaming the halls were the undead Zaarian children and Holly.
“It’s only a matter of time before the survivors make their final stand,” James muttered, running his fingers through our Master’s hair. He was whispering gibberish occasionally but otherwise remained comatose. “We should prepare.”
Raven and I nodded in agreement.
The end of Praetis was just on the horizon whether we were ready or not.
I kept watch over Vincent for weeks, and James kept watch over me. It did not matter how many times I cursed at him or demanded that he leave, he would not listen. He would simply say, “He is unwell and needs more than one pair of eyes.”
It was a poor excuse to monitor me.
