Sorronis twisted and locked Talin’s face into a menacing smile. He raised a twitching claw, pointing it at Cole as if in accusation. Before Cole could begin to wonder, a tight beam of Hatefire shot from the claw, striking Cole square in the chest.
Pain became him, threatening to shake the Rage from his bones. Cole shot behind a boulder. The relief was instant. He patted his chest, looking it over. His black shroud had been burned away, exposing raw muscle and bone beneath. Nothing was supposed to be able to pierce the shroud. Just then, Alvani’s words from one of his first lessons echoed to the front of his mind.
“…As they gain mastery, the body becomes covered in an indestructible material, protecting them from any physical harm, though they are still vulnerable to the darker magics…”
This was the darker magic she was talking about. Hatefire could still harm him. Cole was so used to feeling indestructible, he hadn’t bothered to defend himself while fully shrouded. How could he have been so careless against a god? He would have to mend the hole later, however. Sorronis’s munisica chopped closer with every step.
Rage surging, Cole sank his munisica into the boulder. With surprising ease, Cole hefted the carriage-sized rock and hurled it towards the crunching footsteps. His Rage adored the challenge, demanding more. Quick as lightning, he charged after the boulder, waiting for it to find its target.
Time seemed to slow while his Rage burned hotter. After what felt like a minute, the boulder finally gave a shudder as it halted and split down the middle. Cole battered through the boulder, exploding through to the other side. His Rage growled with satisfaction as he saw the slightest twitch of surprise in Sorronis’s eye. Roaring with bloodlust, Cole struck Sorronis in the gut as hard as he could. He felt a satisfying crunch as the crimson shroud yielded beneath his munisica. The god was not invincible.
Cole brought a bladed foot up next, intent on cleaving Sorronis in between the legs. A shrouded shin crossed his own, blocking the attack as the force carried Sorronis into the air. Cole crouched, preparing for another assault, but noticed something odd. There was a miniscule moment when Sorronis flailed before regaining his effortless grace. The motion was awkward, not at all befitting a god. The blunder, however small, showed that the Harbinger was not invincible, he was not perfect.
Emboldened, Cole launched after his enemy. Another beam of Hatefire screamed at him. He tried to alter his path with Wisdom, but there was no room left in his mind as the Rage filled every corner. The beam cut across his back, searing and stabbing a line down to his upper leg. He collided bodily with Sorronis, clinging to him with his munisica as they sailed high above the island. The red shroud sizzled and burned against his own. Cole ignored the pain and clenched all the harder while raining blows over every inch of Sorronis he could reach. Sorronis blocked most of his strikes, but not all. Cole’s Rage rose to dangerous levels, blinding and consuming him while he grew faster and stronger. He no longer cared if he survived.
Soon Cole’s attacks landed more often than they missed, though Sorronis seemed to be willingly handicapping himself by blocking with only one hand. His other was still occupied with the increasingly restless bundle he held on his shoulder. They flew higher still, now propelled by magic from Sorronis. Cole grasped with a pained grip while the Harbinger carried them over the water. His munisica felt as if they were shattering and breaking, but Cole could feel the red shroud crumpling and failing as well. Sorronis’s movements became increasingly sloppy and labored, providing Cole with openings that he pounced upon without hesitation. Cole roared, allowing his Rage full control. A weary dread mixed with the waning Hatred in Sorronis’s eye, but still he only fought with one hand, using the other to hold the bundle close to his chest.
With a final blow, Sorronis went limp, but Cole didn’t relent. Sharp chunks of red shroud fell from the Harbinger’s unprotected chest, exposing the flesh beneath. There was almost nothing left of Cole’s munisica now. His claws had broken off, revealing angry wounds beneath. His body may have been failing, but his Rage was still on the rise. Cole pummeled the same spot over and over, feeling his own shroud breaking like cold wood and as he ignored the snapping from inside his arm. Sorronis closed his eye as his red shroud vanished, uncovering mortal wounds to his chest.
They were still somehow floating above the ocean. Cole held on with the remnants of his munisica, working out how best to tear the head off his enemy. Using his bladed feet, Cole shimmied up the limp body. In the quiet of the moment he realized the bundle of rags had been crying. There was a child beneath the folds.
The sound took his breath away. How in the world could a child be here? How could it have survived the trauma? How could it tolerate such proximity to an evil god? Frozen with curiosity, Cole took what was left of a claw and peeled back the rags, which were soaked and boiling hot. The child’s wailing rose in desperation, grating on Cole’s ears. He had to help it. As if his Rage knew the significance, the red magic gave his mind a few inches of clarity.
Cole threw back handfuls of the rags, careful not to harm the child. The wailing jolted to something morbid, creating a sound that could only be made by one experiencing ultimate suffering. Cole forced his munisica still, carefully peeling back the final wet layer.
The all-too-familiar smell of burnt flesh stung Cole’s sharpened nose. The figure may very well have been a child at one time, but now it bore a closer resemblance to something scraped off a greasy skillet. Crisped skin melted seamlessly with Talin’s naked chest, giving the appearance that he carried a rotting tumor with a little head and trembling arm. Cole couldn’t fathom how this tortured creature managed to cling to life.
There wasn’t the faintest whisper of a hope left for the child. Cole would have to kill it, no matter the cost to his own soul. This child had long earned a death. The embrace of the void would be the only escape from such prolific agony.
Just as Cole resigned himself to the act, the creature fell silent. Cole froze, hoping the child had suddenly died.
A shriveled arm uncurled from the charred lump, extending to a crude stick of a finger. Its head snapped free of the ash of Talin’s chest, turning and revealing a pair of hazel eyes untouched by evil or flame. They were jewels, innocent and pure, embedded into a living nightmare. The eyes held Cole in place, flaying him as the finger pointed with the authority of Despair itself. The black finger caressed Cole’s cheek and collided with his soul.
With no memory of letting go, Cole found himself falling through open air. Air rushed over his naked ears, chilling his skin. His Rage abandoned him, taking his shroud with it. The sky above him was devoid of even the faintest star. A canvas of evil clouds loomed, blocking even Oberon’s warm glow. Odd concepts filled the gaps in Cole’s reasoning, with one standing clear above the rest; he was quite sure that he was no longer on Aeneria.
He fell with his back to the unknown. There was a shadow just behind him, a burden he’d carried for far too long. It had been waiting, stalking every breath he took. It laughed at his empty promises, his attempts at wearing the mantle of ‘hero.’ Cole was nothing but the sum of his mistakes, piled on over years of ineptitude and callow yearning. His failures taxed the very lives and souls of those he loved. Cole could feel the shadow now, licking the back of his neck with fetid shame.
The significance of all his life’s errors crashed over him as he dropped like a dead weight. Memories of everyone he cared for rushed to him, screaming and begging for his help. He saw his mother cowering in bed, eyes vacant and faded, her only moment of clarity coming when she offered him her Hatred. Nana Beth recoiled at the sight of him, abhorring the boy who had killed her adopted family. Habbad roared in hollow wrath, betrayed by the worthless liar who had promised him the life of his sister. Hopelessness pulled at Lexy’s face, twisting it into unfamiliar agony as he watched the flames violate her. His unit closed in around him, Deekus and Eliza weeping, Sitra and Storn and Valen readying to attack. Lileth backed away, horrified at the man she had gifted her most
fragile parts to. The Elders loomed over all, conjuring spells to obliterate the human who tore down Varka’s barrier and brought endless suffering back to Aeneria. Each victim circled ever closer, demanding he give them back their trust and their lives.
Cole smacked into something solid. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious for, but when he opened his eyes next, his sight was clouded and a searing cold stung at every inch of him. The impact had driven all the air from his lungs. He opened his mouth to breathe as icy water rushed down his throat. He was under water. He clamped his mouth shut and cut his way to where he hoped the surface was, lungs burning and demanding air.
He was surrounded by complete blackness with no way of knowing if he swam up or down. Red lightning cracked mercifully, flashing over the rolling waves too far above him. There was no way he could make the distance. His kept pumping for air, desperately attempting to suck in the freezing water. Cole adjusted course and made for the surface. Without warning his throat betrayed him like a greedy animal, sucking and dumping a mouthful of water into his lungs. Primal Fear fueling his every stroke, Cole charged through the water, determined to survive. With every stroke of his arms he expended more of his vital resources, but there was no alternative. He would live.
Bloody lightning flashed again. Only a few feet of cold water hung between him and the air he so desperately needed. Something crashed through the surface and sloshed down beside him. Even his screaming urge to breathe couldn’t drown the sensation of an iron hand closing around his ankle, dragging him deeper. Despite the heavy weight, Cole managed to make progress with his waning strength. His hand broke through, heavy and chilled in the open air. His eyes and nose bobbed up next. He flailed against the dead weight, but his lips never met the life-giving air. The tides of struggle shifted against him. He sank back down into the darkness, utterly spent.
Cole dropped like a rock as his stiff fingers fumbled over his ankle. Lightning flashed again. Joshy dangled below him, his tiny white knuckles clenched firmly on his ankle. Despair tore Cole’s heart wide open, dousing the final dregs of hope. They descended like a pair of falling stars, far away from the world to a place where hope and love had no home.
A calm acceptance fell over Cole. He would drown with his brother. He deserved it. His throat cracked open again, exchanging the last of his air with killing water. A faraway flicker revealed Joshy’s dim figure once more. Wisps of ginger hair flowed over sad eyes. Upon seeing Cole, his face scrunched with profound sorrow, conveying remorse for what he was. His red jacket billowed as if on fire while his little Velcro shoes stuck out at odd angles behind him.
Cole pulled himself down with Joshy, wrapping his arms around his brother’s body. Joshy embraced him, crying through the darkness. Holding each other close, they rushed to the void as the void rushed up to greet them.
I’m so sorry Joshy.
His brother’s sobs shook into him, pulling him tighter as Despair embraced them both. They fell forever, beneath the world, beneath themselves.
After a lifetime, feeble curiosity joined their void. Were they dead now? Surely they were. Despair crushed the question. It didn’t matter if they were dead; there was nothing worth living for. Cole pulled tighter, squishing Joshy’s cold forehead into his cheek.
A defiant flower bloomed in the abyss, a realization of how things were. They had been falling forever, but it was no longer Joshy who pulled him down. Cole had been holding onto shame for his brother’s death all this time. In life Joshy was a burden of fate’s choosing. In Joshy’s death Cole was finally freed of the charge, exchanging it for a burden of guilt which he neglected at every turn. He had to let go. A piece of Cole’s heart that he never knew toppled into place, replacing the Despair with warm Passion.
Cole ran his hand up the back of Joshy’s head, feeling his flowing hair between his fingers. He kissed Joshy on the brow, giving him one last hug. Joshy gazed into him with dreamy eyes, his lips pulled into a small, crooked smile.
I love you Joshy.
Joshy blinked and pushed his lips together. A sagely acceptance replaced his confusion as he gave Cole a single nod.
I know.
Cole’s fingers slackened, releasing their grip on the red coat. Joshy sank beneath him, reaching up with pale hands as he entered the void alone.
Passion filled Cole from the inside out, wholesome and pure. He rose, quickly now. He would return to the world. There was still love up there, but there was also a shadow that threatened it. He would be the candle to stay the darkness.
At the thought of love, Cole felt several stars pop to life within him. They had been there all along, only he hadn’t known how to see them. They were named Lileth, Sitra, Valen, Eliza, Alvani, and Goran. Cole embraced the stars, feeling their real-world counterparts miles away. Love became him, filling him with purpose. His friends were alive! Suffocating gloom pooled around their candles, but they still flickered. Cole gazed into the void below him once more, but his brother was gone.
Thank you, Joshy.
The surface of the water exploded as Cole erupted into open air. Varka’s cape snapped to straight glass, tuning his Wisdom as Cole held himself in midair. He pressed a glowing jade hand to his chest and a gout of steam poured from his mouth, clearing his lungs of water. His hand then changed to lavender as the collection of wounds knitted themselves back together.
A Kingdom of Passion welled up within him, swirling and dancing with other magics. The Passion blazed with potency equal to his Rage, enhancing it with righteous purpose without diminishing it. Newfound power rushed through him, sparking an introspective sense of wonder. Something had changed within his soul; however, now was not the time to acquaint himself with it. Six stars twinkled for him in the Fangshard valley.
Cole brought his Wisdom forth, commanding the assistance of Varka’s cape. The cape obliged and Cole shot towards his candles with blurring speed, breaking the air as his Rage shrouded him.
As Cole soared into the valley, he realized one of his candles was unlike the others. Goran was not flickering, but beaming with a power that felt both ancient and wild as the Fangshards. Cole felt him keeping pace along the peaks of the valley. Goran nudged his mind with warm confidence. Cole would not face the enemy alone this time.
The churning island of burnt corpses floated before the ledge where the rest of his dimming candles clung to life. Cole zoomed his vision. Roth stood straight and still, eyes closed but no longer struggling against Grotton. Cole scanned him with a pulse of Passion, but the Bonebreaker’s candle was nowhere to be found. Grotton now lived within the elder, just as Sorronis lived within Talin, who stood on the bridge as well. The Harbinger of Despair and Hatred waved a commanding arm at the tar consuming Cole’s friends. The black muck churned and dragged their bodies to the bone nest.
Bracing himself, Cole put on one final burst of speed before colliding with the back of the floating mass of the Colossus, tearing through layers of cooked meat and bone. As he cut his way through, something oddly familiar struck a chord of his Passion. Altering his course, he found the anomaly and broke it from its fleshy prison, carrying it through the rest of the way. When he saw the light of the other side, he slowed himself and landed on the valley wall above the ledge. The writhing figure seethed under his arm, flailing and beating itself against his shroud. Its little fists spoke the Hatred that its mouth was no longer capable of.
Passion flared from Cole like a burning sun. The black tar fled from him as if blown by a strong wind, stripping the taint from the rock around him. Five lavender pulses shot from his chest, one for each of his candles. The Passion rushed into their prone bodies with rejuvenating magic. His unit stirred as Sorronis and the tumor-child emitted screeches that sounded like shearing metal.
It was then that Cole noticed two things. First, the mass of chosen began to flow back into the shape of a Colossus. Second, Roth’s munisica and shroud had returned, but the elder grew larger by the second as his bulging stomach shrank. His expression wa
s slack, though a burning Hunger sharpened his eyes. Roth was no longer Roth. He was the Harbinger of Grotton.
Cole silenced his own Rage, and his black armor shrank away before Grotton could take notice. Urgency fueling his Passion, Cole sent another rejuvenating pulse into each of his friends, rousing them from their stupor. Only Alvani remained on the cold ledge, hugging herself as she clung to life. Cole’s Passion had no effect on her.
“Cole,” Eliza called out, her voice cracking. “Cole what’s happening? What’s wrong with Roth?”
Lileth sprang to his side, munisica flashing like black daggers. “Sorronis!”
Valen took up a position on his other side, crouched and ready. Sitra and Eliza fell in behind him.
“Put your Rage away!” Cole blurted. “Grotton took Roth for Harbinger. We need to leave now.”
“Master Roth? He couldn’t have…” Sitra’s voice rang with disbelief, but her eyes saw the truth.
“I’ll explain later, grab Alvani quick.” Cole eyed the Colossus taking shape before them. The screeching wails of Sorronis died away as the bone nest closed around him. Cole readied a spell, hoping it would be strong enough to carry them all.
Valen scooped Alvani into his arms. He inched away from Roth, who was now twice his normal height. His granite stomach had stretched into a rotund belly that shook with a thunderous chuckle. His eyes snapped to them, a grin of Hunger stretching his face wide.
“We’re too late,” Lileth whispered, her hands dropping to her sides.
“Roth you’d better put up a better fight than that!” Sitra roared as angry tears fell down her cheeks. “You can’t let him have you! Fight it!”
The chuckling rose into an all-too-familiar sound that had no business in the world of the living. Grotton’s beady eyes stared out from Roth’s face, a horrible sight made worse by his nightmarish proportions. He glanced down at his ample stomach and gave it a pat. The shroud snapped over the rest of his skin, protecting him from the inside out. Cruel Hunger emanated from his hulking form. They were too late.
Saving The Dark Side Book 2: The Harbingers Page 50