Hands clenched into tight fists, Nessa battled against the bonds keeping her arms locked against her sides, trying to break them apart. Maybe then, she might be able to free herself completely and make for an escape while the dragon and Rider were distracted with their spell weaving.
For a heartbeat or two, she was met with no success. She was very securely pinioned, and Nessa was soon panting with effort, beads of sweat rolling down her face, mixing with tears of frustration. The thing clawing beneath her skin paused; then, like a dragon arising from a long slumber, it came awake with a ferocity that shook the earth.
A scream tore from her throat, and her bonds disintegrated with a shower of sparks. Nessa fell to her knees just as the Rider finished his incantation with a mighty roar, his head falling back, his arms reaching up as if he could pluck the moon from the sky.
Magic pulsed and flashed, and the wind howled and blustered, sending ash and embers flying in a vicious burst. Flames flickered and danced, pushed sideways by the gale.
Then, like an eye of a storm passing overhead, everything abruptly fell still and silent. The fires, burning bright and fierce only a second ago, wilted, becoming small and inconsequential. Their light was weak and ruddy, and the ruined square was enveloped in a sinister gloom that not even the moon could impede.
Nessa stared, wide-eyed, as she sensed the formless entity drift around the Rider with ever-increasing fervour, its presence a dark, malevolent energy. It was gathering itself, readying itself for something. The incantation was finished, but by no means did that mean it was the end. No, it was just the beginning.
She staggered to her feet, her bones singing with pain and her muscles weak as the thing beneath her skin continued to move within her, consuming her. Claiming her.
With the fires subdued, Nessa saw a path of escape that had previously been closed to her. She went to run, to flee whilst she could, whilst all three beings, corporeal and otherwise, had their attention focused elsewhere.
Nessa only managed a couple of steps. The pain became unbearable. Acid surely flowed in her veins instead of blood, melting flesh and bone. Nessa couldn’t move. She couldn’t scream. Her body was frozen in agony.
Nessa was all but helpless to watch as the Rider brought down his arms and pulled off his gauntlets, casting them carelessly aside. He didn’t bat an eyelid as they landed on the bodies beneath his feet. From a golden scabbard at his hip, he drew a ceremonial dagger. Its blade and hilt were covered in glyphs and it shimmered with an inner light.
Without hesitation, the Rider ran the blade across his palm, slicing it open. Blood was quick to well, a stark line of liquid crimson. His black eyes, which were strangely unfocused and glazed over, showed no pain or discomfort. He shifted his grip on the dagger and repeated the action on his other hand.
Horrified and fascinated, Nessa watched as he calmly sheathed the dagger and held his arms by his sides, bleeding palms angled outwards. His eyes slid closed and his lips shaped soundless words, chanting again.
The formless entity danced with eagerness, with glee.
The thing cruelly residing under Nessa’s skin stilled. Watching. Waiting.
The unsettling stillness over the ruined square became ominous. All at once, it felt as if a thousand eyes had turned their gaze upon it.
A shiver ran down Nessa’s spine when she sensed similarities between those watchful eyes and the dark entity, a connection that surpassed human comprehension. They were one and the same, and yet profoundly different, a candle flame compared to a raging inferno.
The thing beneath Nessa’s skin, empowered by the formless watchers, awoken and unchained by the chants and the swell of magic, stirred again. With a jolting punch to Nessa’s core, it joined with her, uniting with her. It became one with her.
Instantly, the pain vanished. The clawing, burning sensation was gone, and the relief was profound. Nessa staggered back a step, her vision wavering. She raised her hands, pressing them against her chest, feeling the echoes of her heartbeat.
Nessa was changed.
Different.
Reborn.
Power, wild and untamed, flowed in her veins.
The Rider’s eyes snapped open and locked onto her.
Nessa saw something in their black depths: surprise…and something else…something that made her stomach drop.
Without breaking his chant, the Rider’s fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for his dagger and stride forwards. Despite the glint in his eyes, he stayed as he was, else he risked his spell going awry.
Blood dripped from his fingertips, landing on the bodies beneath his feet. The formless entity stilled, coming to a stop by the Rider, hovering around him, in front of him. Then, with explosive strength and velocity, it shot outwards, upwards.
The entity claimed the ruined square, the destroyed town, as its own, consuming and devouring, taking everything on offer.
A darkness, profound and deep, settled over the square, a cloud of pain and despair. The moon and stars were blotted out, their gentle light smothered, and the surrounding fires burned black.
Little strange lights flickered into existence, ringing the ruined square, steadily rolling inwards, inching closer to the mound of bodies, leisurely climbing over them, lingering on them.
At first, Nessa thought that it was fire, slow burning and dim. But as it advanced over the bodies, flickering gently, she saw that it was something a lot more otherworldly. Whilst it moved and looked like fire, there was something that differentiated it. It reminded Nessa of a thin layer of mist, with curling tendrils and shifting patterns. There was no smoke, no crackle of flames, just an eerie, loaded silence as the unearthly fire-mist delicately kissed its way up the mound of bodies, caressing faces and twisted limbs instead of burning them.
Nessa was unable to tear her gaze away from the leading wave, watching as it reached the Rider’s feet, swirling and climbing over the lower half of his legs. Hungry and curious, yet leaving him unharmed, his armour unscathed.
Another droplet of blood left his fingertip, and with a sizzle, it was swallowed by the fire-mist.
A shock-wave pulsed through the ruined square, blasting outwards with enough force to knock Nessa off her feet and to send more than a few surrounding walls tumbling down.
Stunned, ears ringing and the air kicked out of her, Nessa lay where she had fallen, struggling for breath, ash tickling her nose and sticking to her eyelashes.
Bright light pierced through the dimness, turning her eyelids red. Nessa groaned and pushed herself up on shaking arms, coughing out what felt like a lungful of soot. She squinted, half-blinded.
The mystic fire-mist blazed with hypnotic light, almost too bright to look at. It danced and skipped over the mound of bodies, flickering and pulsing, a silvery white like that of liquid starlight.
Crowding around the Rider, enveloping his lower half, thin tendrils snaked around his hands, searching, seeking. They found the bleeding wound on each palm, and like a striking snake, they shot into the wounds, pushing themselves deep into the Rider, filling his veins.
The Rider’s back arched, and his head fell back, an agonised roar renting the air.
Nessa scrambled to her feet, wide-eyed and alarmed.
The mystic light swelled, the tendrils climbing up his arms, up over his waist and chest like vines, growing and converging, the lower parts thickening and merging together. It swallowed him in a writhing mass, bright and alive. His howl was drowned out as the light filled his mouth, as he swallowed it like a man half-starved, desperate and greedy.
Nessa couldn’t tell if it was consuming him or if he was consuming it. Her eyes went to his dragon, a mountain of scaled muscle, and saw that the lights were twining over him too, a spider web of delicate lines that rested in the cleft between each scale.
Both the dragon and his Rider glowed. The light seeped into them, filling them, charging them. Energy crackled, and the air wavered and hummed. The Rider’s magic, which was already unfeasibly stron
g, strengthened to a level that was unearthly.
Nessa, heart in her throat, was helpless to watch as the Rider drank in the light, taking all the energy it had to offer. It had so much to give him, so much more. Her eyes ran over the mound of bodies, at the flow of light that drifted over them, and came to realise something deeply unsettling.
The light, the mystic fire, wasn’t just drifting over the bodies, summoned by the Rider and the dark entity, it came from the bodies. Whatever the Rider was doing, whatever magic he was wielding, Nessa somehow knew that he was drawing something from the bodies’ lingering life forces, taking the raw magic that was life itself for some perverse reason.
Something brushed against her hand.
Nessa flinched and whipped her hand up, trying to shake loose whatever was tickling her knuckles. It clung, coiling gently around a finger like a vine, warm and light, and strangely alive. A current of energy shot through her Rider’s Mark, and it tingled pleasantly, almost in recognition, in welcome.
Nessa froze, scared and uncertain.
Squeezing her eyes closed, Nessa hoped to find a moment of clarity in the chaos surrounding her. She found a little courage instead and managed to peer down at her hand, at the thing that was latched onto her, slipping under her arm warmer and curling around her wrist, prodding at her Rider’s Mark. Even though a part of her instinctively knew what it was, it still came as a shock to see a thread of mystic fire coiled around her finger and hand.
It had branched away from the rest, a thin offshoot that trailed across the ground, snaking around holes and rubble. Its light was softer, gentler, compared to that of the blaze covering the mound of bodies. Somehow, it had escaped being drawn in by the Rider and his dragon, and for some reason, had chosen to approach her instead, like it had a mind—a will—of its own.
The wild, untamed power that had rushed through Nessa’s veins only moments ago started to rise again. Something about it and the mystic fire called to each other, recognising a secret quality, a shared connection between them.
Fear slowly melted away, and curiosity arose. Hesitantly, Nessa toyed with the fine tendril of mystic fire, twining it around her fingers like it was a loose thread from a frayed hem, feeling it tightening around them, pressing into her skin. She lifted her hand, holding it before her eyes, watching as the tendril shifted with the movement, clutching at her, desperate to remain in contact. Little wisps drifted off, fluttering in the air as delicate and as fleeting as a butterfly.
A hunger came over Nessa, almost strong enough to double her over. Everything was forgotten as she wrapped her arms around her middle, gasping for breath. A primal pain gnawed at her innards, begging to be fed. Nessa looked down at the tendril of light fervently.
She’d experienced a taste of power. The raw magic that hid inside of her had seen to that.
Nessa wanted more.
The mystic fire would give it to her. It would sate the hunger. She knew it would.
The dark entity turned its gaze to her, quivering with anticipation, watching as Nessa’s eyelids fluttered closed, as she tugged on her thread of liquid starlight, needing to draw it into her, just as the other Rider was.
Intangible hands brushed against her cheeks, claws caressing her throat. The entity started whispering in her ear, promising great things, terrible things. Everything she had ever wanted, all she could ever want, would be hers for the taking. All she needed to do was open a vein, spill some of her lifeblood, give herself over completely to…to…
Sharp talons scraped against her shoulders and tangled in her hair, scratching and pulling. Wings battered her face in a frenzy, and shrill shrieks pierced her ears, too loud and too close.
With a strangled cry, Nessa’s eyes snapped open, and the gnawing hunger faded away, vanishing as if it had never been. She felt as if she was waking from a dream, a nightmare. Finding herself suddenly back in the real world was jolting and terrifying.
Nessa stumbled back, blinded by hair and wings, swatting wildly at the raven. It was strong and relentless, deranged. She began to run, hoping to escape from it, one arm thrown across her eyes, protecting them from its sharp talons and jabbing beak. Nessa dashed towards what she prayed was a pathway between the rubble and collapsing buildings, and the fire. Since she didn’t immediately trip and fall over, or run headlong into a burning wall, Nessa assumed that she was in luck and picked up speed, going as fast as she could.
The raven eased its assault on her, but by no means did it leave her alone, staying painfully close. Its presence was a threat, a warning, a driving force that kept her going with a promise of violence. Wingtips brushing against her cheeks and rough caws! were a constant reminder that never allowed her a moment of hesitation, or a chance to look back over her shoulder.
The raven didn’t allow Nessa to give into the dark, alluring voice that called after her.
Nessa ran until the crunch of broken cobblestones and bricks gave way to the soft whisper of grass, and until the crackle and hiss of flames were nothing more than a terrible memory.
Nessa ran until the blue-eyed raven once again parted ways with her, and arms, warm and strong, wrapped around her, holding her close to a chest that shuddered with relieved sobs.
Chapter 17
Nessa sat huddled against Aoife’s side, shuddering, her arms wrapped around herself. She stared unblinkingly at the horizon, at the ruddy ember there, at the glowing remains of what used to be a bustling market town. The scent of smoke still clung to her, filling her nostrils.
“He’s not coming,” Hunter said, voice raw, pausing his pacing to clap Orm on the back.
Nessa blinked, eyes burning, and looked to where both of them stood nearby, little more than dark shapes in the chilled autumn night.
“He would have come by now,” Hunter murmured.
Orm folded his arms across his chest, hugging himself. “He’ll come. Just you wait. You’ll see. It takes more than Dragon Fire to kill him.”
Hunter opened his mouth, ready to argue, but quickly snapped it shut with a sigh. He could see the pain shining in Orm’s eyes, bright in the moonlight.
Is there any hope? Nessa asked timidly. Could Chaos have escaped the razing?
I fear not, Aoife said gently, coiling her tail tighter around them as if she would create a barrier to protect Nessa from what had happened. I have tried my hardest to find him, but I cannot sense his mind at all. He is lost to us.
Maybe it’s just due to distance?
Distance has very little to do with it.
Well…perhaps he’s simply shielding his mind?
It doesn't work like that, and you know it. Even when you were shielding your mind down there, I could still sense that you were alive. Although I couldn’t talk to you or feel your emotions like I can now.
So what you’re saying is…
There is little to no hope that Chaos is alive. If he was, whether he was shielding his mind or not, then I would know. I would easily sense one such as him. Anyway, it’s been an hour since the Dragon Rider and his beast left. There is no need for Chaos to conceal himself now.
Nessa shifted and pressed a cheek against Aoife’s side, a deep sadness coming over her. Poor Orm. Should we tell him?
A part of him already knows. He’s just not ready to accept it yet.
Poor Orm, Nessa repeated. I’ll admit I wasn’t particularly fond of Chaos, but I never wanted him to die. Certainly not under such awful circumstances.
It’s a fate that few deserve to meet. He was not one of them. The world has lost someone it couldn’t afford to.
And Orm. He looks like he’s about to shatter. Even in the gloom of night, Nessa could see his shoulders slumping under the weight of his growing despair, his eyes glimmering with unshed tears. He had stood atop a crest for over an hour, unmoving, gazing at the stretch of land between them and what remained of Arncraft, searching for any sign of movement, for any hint of life.
Chaos helped him when he was younger, when his powers first emerged.
Orm looks up to him as a father figure rather than a mentor. While Chaos wasn’t one to show emotion, I could tell that he loved Orm in his own unique way. I think Orm knew that too, although he never dared to bring it up.
So Orm’s lost a father rather than a friend?
Yes.
Poor Orm.
Poor Orm, Aoife concluded.
The mention of father figures made Nessa’s mind turn to family in general, and she couldn’t help but wonder about Orm’s and Hunter’s…and hers.
Orm was clearly lacking a meaningful relationship with his biological father, perhaps even lacking a father to start with. It was a dangerous and complicated world, and Nessa guessed that anything could have happened. But what about the rest of his family? Where was his mother? Did he have any siblings? Cousins? And what about Hunter? Where were his parents? Was he part of a large family, or was he all alone?
Nessa thought it was bad enough that she couldn’t remember anything about friends she had supposedly known for years, but it was so profoundly wrong that she couldn’t recall anything about her life, even her own family.
Nessa wondered where they were, who they were.
Nessa searched for anything that might be likened to a memory, a feeling, an image. Even a sense of recollection would do. But just as always when reaching for her past, she ran into a wall. Her memories were there, somewhere. She was just unable to access them.
Why that was, Nessa didn’t know, the whys and the hows escaping her. The idea of someone tampering with her mind, hiding her memories, was raised. Chaos and Orm were under the impression that it was a permanent thing. However, the little creature from the forest brook implied that wasn’t the case. Who was Nessa to believe? A strange little creature or the friends she couldn’t remember?
Nessa sighed, overwhelmed by so many questions and emotions, and contemplated asking Aoife about before, as she liked to call it: before she had been taken by Margan, before she had lost access to her memories.
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