by Ana Calin
My eyes dart down to Nazarean, who’s started to lap at the milky tree sap. If he does it, it’s because it’s feeding him energy, which means that Xerxes might be right.
“It might be true after all, what you told me. If Nazarean were a creature of the Underworld, of Tartarus... The Firestone has Underworld energy, too, right?”
“As does everything here.”
“Yes, but Nazarean is intelligent, he’s accumulated information, he knows what we’re here for.” I crouch down and touch his fur, stroking him lightly as his little tongue keeps flicking at the opalescent milk. I close my eyes and communicate with him at the level we use with each other. I sometimes use words as well, and he responds by emitting certain vibrations, but now I need a perfect connection to transmit what I need to.
My familiar turns his head as he understands, then returns his attention to this new source of food that he seems to like so much.
“He can try to track the Firestone’s energy, but he would need to know what he’s sniffing for.” I say as I reach for Xerxes’ ragbag, and search for something resembling a bottle, so I can get more tree sap for Nazarean to take-away.
Nazarean purrs.
“But he says he has a pretty good feel for your energy, and he’ll look for the most similar thing.”
Xerxes nods, licking his lips and resting his head against the tree trunk. I watch him as I let the tree sap trickle into a water bottle I had to sacrifice.
High realms he’s handsome, royally so. Those manly features, his golden body, and those lips that I drank from last night. Passion flutters in my lower belly, along with a feeling of belonging.
“First things first,” he says, fixing his red eyes on the snake. “Training. It’s what we were looking for just before this creature offered itself. Its dead body still retains some of its dark magic, so let’s try to drain it.”
Even dead, the monster’s body is impressive, and it emits magic.
“I channel energy into people, not out of them, but I do draw energy from elements, and I can weaken attackers by draining them, but there’s a catch.”
He nods, looking like he’s in control, but I can see the almost imperceptible grimace.
“I know. You need something to drive that energy into. You’ll need to do the same with the dead, which means we’ll have to find something that can’t use that energy to harm us.”
I look around myself. “I could use the channeling process in reverse and lead the energy into the ground.”
“It would normally make sense, but this ground is evil. The moss itself could sprout cords and branches that would wrap around us and tie us down.”
“Then what?”
An eerie breeze blows through the trees, making my skin crawl. It flows through my hair, and stirs the leaves. A strange rustle goes through them, carrying the scent of evil.
“Too late, we have to move,” Xerxes says, pushing himself up from the tree root. He balances himself heavily on his feet, and I notice a gash on the back of his shoulder. The snake sliced through the leather jacket and Xerxes’ flesh with one of its fangs.
“Realms, Xerxes, you’re hurt.”
He drops down on one knee, unable to support his own weight. I scurry over, putting my hands on him to feel for his level of energy. I gasp as I sense the poison spreading through him.
“That cursed snake grazed your flesh.” I can’t keep the anguish from my voice. My heart beats so hard it’s in my throat now. “We need to go back beyond the protection circle, get you healed. There’s no way you can go on in this state.”
Xerxes doesn’t protest, which I take as a sign this is serious indeed. We start back the way we came, but with every step the breeze intensifies, until the wind starts howling. The closer we get to the circle, the wind grows so strong that it pushes the loops of my braided ponytail, undoing my hair, and Nazarean has to sink his claws into my skin in order to keep steady.
Xerxes insists on leading the way and protecting us behind him. I’m pressed to his back, his leather jacket between us, his hand on my hip to make sure nothing comes between us. But then he stops abruptly, and I know that something’s wrong.
“Fuck,” he grunts, shadow curling off of him like smoke. I peek to the side, and gasp. Whirls cover the protection barrier, like small tornadoes made of grey mist.
“The spirits of the Underworld know we’re here, and they aren’t letting us out,” he says.
It’s incredible how he can keep a flat tone in this situation, as if he has everything under control. But I can feel the snake’s poison wreaking havoc in his body. I don’t say anything, because it’s not gonna help any of us.
“Turn, now,” he commands, and I do. He takes my hand, running with me and increasing speed until I can’t keep up. I’m soon out of breath, but he scoops me up, and races with me through the chilly forest towards the top, his jeans tightening on his muscular thighs as he sprints.
Despite the fact that he’s losing magic, and that his blood is poisoned, he seems unable to lose physical strength and endurance. The closest he came to it was after the battle with the snake, but he seems to have recovered enough to take this hill like it’s nothing. It’s only when he collapses without warning that I understand this is taking a heavy toll on his body.
I cry out his name as his knees hit the ground with a thud, sinking into the moss, and cracking the hard earth under it.
“We have to do something,” I cry, tears flooding my eyes. I look around desperately. Evening is falling. We spent much longer by the tree than we realized.
Now that we’re close to the upper forest edge, the chapel is visible like a lonely mausoleum on the distant peak. Dark clouds gather over it like a curse.
“They’re going to emerge soon,” Xerxes warns, his red eyes scrutinizing the growing darkness. “We have to hurry. You’re not ready to take them on yet.”
“We need to find a place to hide,” I insist, tugging his arm, but I can barely move him.
“There’s no hiding, Cerys. We have to go through with this. The evil forces running this place, they know we’re here.”
“But neither of us is ready for a fight.”
He turns his head slowly, and when his red eyes meet mine, my breath stops. There is the determination of a military leader in them, who will stop at nothing to attain his goal.
“One is never completely ready for a fight, Cerys. We work with what we have, and this is it at this moment—a poisoned soldier who loses magic by the minute, a white mage who can work with energy, and a spirit of Tartarus who’s protected you over the years.” He looks to Nazarean, who brushes his tail against Xerxes’ thighs, eyes hanging on his as if he’d do anything to help if he could.
“Your familiar is good at sensing evil,” he says as he runs a finger over Nazarean’s head, just like he likes it. He looks up to the chapel, squinting as low orange lights go on, illuminating it against the backdrop of the descending night. “He can lead the way towards the chapel, avoiding the tombs where the dead are rising. He will sense them as we go. I will follow him, and you keep behind me, as close as possible.” He draws the daggers from the sheaths strapped to his thighs, causing a metallic swish that cuts through the air, and makes me flinch. He flips them in his hands, his arms tensing as he gets ready for battle. Fire veins become visible under his skin like little rivulets, but they flow much slower than usual. They used to light up quickly, I didn’t get to watch the cracks spread slowly over his body like I do now. It’s a fascinating, and strangely beautiful process.
“As for you, Cerys,” he says. “When the dead come for us, you must drain them of their souls, and channel their energy into something that they won’t be able to fuel or animate. The elements are dangerous that way. The last thing we need is their souls poisoning the air and the ground.” He holds up his daggers to me. “I will think of something and keep them busy with these while you do your work, but you must be focused and act as quickly as you can.”
I nod,
eyes fixed on his, unblinking. I want him to feel that he can depend on me.
I half expect him to smile, but he doesn’t. He leads the way, and I follow him, my body tense and my eyes darting in all directions, aware that a threat can emerge from anywhere. Nazarean prowls in front of us, light on his paws, and we follow his tracks.
Xerxes moves faster and faster, and I manage to keep up, but the more we advance toward the chapel, the further it seems to be from us. The eerie breeze from before is about to catch up with us, I can feel its cold kiss on my back, blowing through my hair. I grip Xerxes’ jacket, drawing closer to his body.
“Why aren’t we getting any closer?”
“It’s a mirage,” he says. “Evil magic of this place. It plays with our senses so that we lose hope. Losing hope opens the gates to our souls for the evil to invade.”
I struggle to hold myself together. I’m scared, but I can’t show that to Xerxes, I refuse to burden him with that. As the night falls, and the more we advance towards the top, the clouds shift to reveal a full moon. I lean my head back, hope sparking in my chest.
“High realms, the moon! I’m stronger on nights with a full moon, its energy will help.”
But just as I say it, I notice the ground moving in the moonlight.
We must be close to the chapel now, even though we don’t see it.
Here, the Cemetery is denser.
Tombstones protrude from the ground like guardians of the Underworld, many askew, and many looking more like swords with their tips rammed into the ground than crosses. The breeze blows among the stones, and a mist that doesn’t feel like something of this world floats between them.
The wind howls, and Nazarean meowls, switching direction. He raises his tail in the air, his fur spiked as if standing on end. He must have sensed something terrible. He switches again, and then again, until our path turns into a zig-zag that stops making sense. It only takes another second to understand why—there’s no escaping the dead now, they’re awakening everywhere.
The earth moves all around us like it’s crumbling, wooden twigs rising from it, clawing themselves out like living plants. Only that those aren’t twigs, they’re hands, hands belonging to what were once humanoid creatures.
“High realms!” I push closer to Xerxes, my hands clenched on his jacket, while he keeps a hand on my hip, protecting me. He’s still holding a hunting dagger, its blunt side touching my thigh, holding the other in such a way that he can strike as swiftly as a snake.
As the creatures crawl their way out of their graves and limp into the moonlight, I want to scream, but I can’t. They’re in such a state of decay that I can’t tell their rags from their flesh. One makes a gurgling sound too close, and my eyes dart to it. It’s a bald creature with an open mouth, thick black blood moving inside it instead of a tongue. The shock is so strong that I can’t make a sound, let alone remember what I was supposed to do when we encountered these creatures. Especially when I see something that chills me to the bones.
The intelligence I read in the creature’s eyes sends needles through my chest—there is someone in there, looking at me, a person, a soul that is in pain. It reaches out to me, trying to grab me with putrid fingers that reek of decay and feces. Nazarean hisses, and just before the living corpse can touch me, a blade flashes before my eyes, luscious in the moonlight.
The creature releases a sharp scream that pierces the night, its hand falling to the ground. I jump back as the hand still tries to reach me.
“Drain it, Cerys,” Xerxes urges. My eyes dart back up to see him behind the creature, his forearm pressing to its throat, strangling it.
But those eyes, they won’t let me do it. They’re the eyes of a desperate soul.
“Now, Cerys.” Xerxes raises his hunting dagger with his other hand, ready to pierce the creature.
High realms, the poison is ravaging him on the inside. There are dark circles around his eyes, giving him a vampire-like appearance, a sheen of sweat coating his golden-bronze skin. He bares his teeth, hissing at more creatures closing in on us. I suddenly realize many are emerging from the darkness, from their earthen graves and behind their crosses, from their tombs and the mist surrounding them.
I return my attention to the creature that’s choking behind Xerxes’ arm and, for a moment there, I think it’s actually begging me to do it. To free it from this terrible fate. I have no choice, I have to pull myself together and act now, before we all perish in this place.
I step close to the creature, and place my hands gently on its chest. My upper lip curls over my teeth as I touch wet rags caked with gooey body fluids, but I manage to push it out of my mind. I take a deep breath, inhaling its smell, my eyes rolling back.
I sink into its energy, following the essence of life that fuels its body. I find its soul like a shimmering core of darkness, and pain twists my heart. I grimace, and bow my head, pushing through this. This is a tortured, struggling soul that thrashes for its existence. I would try to calm it down, to give it respite, soothe it, but how do I do it? All I’ve ever done was channel energy, connecting supernatural beings to sources that would replenish them. It’s what I do, I’m a conductor, not a redeemer.
I manage to tap into the creature’s soul like I did into the volcano that fueled Xerxes when he came after me, but where do I deviate it? I need to conduct it into something.
“Use me,” Xerxes’ voice reaches me as if through a dream. I open my eyes a little, but my sight is still blurry. His face swims in front of me.
“We don’t know what it would do to you, Xerxes.”
“Just do it,” he pleads. Nazarean mewls, and my eyes open wide. I gasp as I get a full view of the scene unfolding in front of me.
More creatures have grabbed Xerxes, pulling at him, one opening its shark-like jaws to bite into his flesh. He’s fighting all of them with one hand while holding the creature I’m working on upright for me, slashing the throat of the shark-like man attacking him, and punching the next one in the same fluid movement. He’s still got his god-like physical strength that shatters a creature’s facial bones as it crashes into its twisted face, his fist curled over the dagger’s hilt, but physical strength won’t be enough. The poison is weakening him, and the shadows he emits are fainter, like a grey, dissipating mist.
Only when I try to move forward and help him do I realize the creatures are holding me back as well. Panic rises in my throat. With a cry I manage to rip myself away from them, and push my hands firmly on the creature’s chest. I close my eyes, connect to its soul, and suck it dry like a leech.
I rise and touch Xerxes on the gash that the snake left. He hisses in pain, his iron muscles twitching under my touch, but he stills when he realizes what’s happening. Through the gash, I can direct the energy right into his bloodstream. Before I do it, we lock eyes one last time.
We don’t know what effect this is going to have on him. For all we know, it might kill him. As he stares into my eyes, both of us caving under the weight of the undead tugging at us, barely able to fight their snapping teeth and their desire to send us to Samael, a feeling washes over me like a great wave of light. It fills my heart.
It’s love. I’m in love with Xerxes Blazeborn, the King of Flames, and I’m ready to die here and now with him. Without a second thought I lean down and press my lips on his, molding them. His body relaxes, and he opens his mouth to mine.
“Thank you,” he breathes as I peel my lips off of his. “For making my existence worth it.” He places his big hand on my heart, still curled over the hilt of his dagger. “I want you to know—if we survive this, it will be only because of you.”
Both our bodies will give in to the creatures’ pressure any moment. I can’t delay any longer, I must do it now.
I drive the rest of the creature’s soul into Xerxes. The darkness pours into him, and some of the creatures step back, their intelligent eyes watching the process and trying to make sense of it.
Xerxes leans his head back, his eyes
closed, his arms open, taking it in. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it feels like liberation to him. But before the process is finished one of the creatures takes advantage of the moment to throw itself at him, sinking its teeth into the wound on his shoulder, now that its peers have torn the leather jacket off of him, exposing his skin.
I scream, throwing myself at the creature and strangling it from behind, but it won’t let go—or so I think, until I realize it’s Xerxes that’s keeping it. The creature crumples in my grasp like a mummy disintegrating and turning to dust.
The entire Cemetery goes silent as Xerxes howls, the dead drawing back in fear. Did he just suck the creature’s soul out of its dead body without my intervention?
He stands, slowly, rising to his full height like a god among mortals. Rivulets of fire start to ripple along his skin, but also veins with something black like tar. The dark circles around his eyes look compelling, attractive in a twisted way, and the red of his eyes turns purple.
Xerxes the King of Fire now resembles a god of death, and he looks ready to take on Samael himself. He emits shadow, but differently than before. Now he looks like there’s a black sun behind him that threatens to swallow the world.
He turns around, his purple gaze sweeping over the living corpses in the moonlight, the creatures pulling away from him in fear. Their bones snap and their entrails make squelching sounds as they stumble over each other. Completely taken with what’s going on I forget that I am not out of danger. A creature grabs me from behind, its claws sinking into my shoulders. But I don’t even get to scream or register the pain before Xerxes grabs the creature by its throat.
The corpse disintegrates, its hands falling off of me and crumpling like burned paper on the ground just from his touch. The others hiss and whine, their ear-splitting voices spreading through the night, but there’s no stopping Xerxes now. He walks after them, not even making an effort to get them. He grabs random creatures on his way, and they disintegrate under his touch, dissipating like dust in the wind.