What had happened to the happy child Vahn once knew? What had occurred to harden his son into this beast of combat who had so callously murdered Landon back in the town square and now seemed to stalk his own brother like a wounded animal in the sights of an apex predator? Something had to be done. Valentean had to be stopped.
It was then that Vahn felt something cold and familiar rise up within his chest. The anguish of the father was pushed aside by the will of the elite warrior he had always been. Throughout his long and storied career, Vahn Burai had often found that warrior’s spirit at war with his own humanity. Whether it be plights of duty, of remorse or anger, he recalled many instances where this internal conflict ate him alive. But in this moment, Vahn Burai the human being and Vahn Burai the elite warrior were in perfect harmony because both sides of his personality shared one common bond—the love of a father for his sons.
So what if he was just a man? So what if his sons were gods? Vahn Burai was still their father, and as such, it was his duty to protect them. Just as he had so many times before when their skirmishes as children had passed beyond the acceptable limits of exhibition, Vahn needed to step in. He had to stop this before it reached a very real and terrifying conclusion.
Vahn ignored the echo of pain in his chest and swallowed his resolve as the elite warrior swung one leg down over the edge of the arena lip. He began what was sure to be a long and slow descent, determined to reach his beloved boys in time. He only hoped that Valentean would not choose to end this battle until he had arrived.
I love him!
The voice of Seraphina echoed within his mind as Valentean allowed a wild kick from Kayden to sail harmlessly over his head. Valentean lashed out with a flaming fist, feeling the satisfying crack of knuckle against jaw bone and the warm spread of chaos as the flames erupted into a satisfying explosion along his doomed sibling’s face.
Kayden fell once more, and this time, he seemed to take a bit longer to rise. Valentean wanted to break Kayden’s spirit, to show him that he never stood a chance. He wanted Kayden to die knowing that all he had ever held pride in, all he had ever dreamt for himself was not to be. That would be his ultimate punishment.
Valentean stood still and statuesque, glowering down at his larger brother. He watched Kayden’s blue eyes lock upon his own, he saw hopeless realization dawn in Kayden’s mind, and then he watched that realization blossom into rage. Kayden’s face contorted as he ran at Valentean, screaming a loud, prolonged syllable, covering the space between them in no time at all. But to Valentean, he might as well have been moving in slow motion.
Kayden’s strikes were clumsy, fueled not by precision or finesse but by the lumbering inaccuracy of hatred. Valentean casually bent his body out of the destructive path of Kayden’s arms and spun to the side to avoid a head-sized stone that tore itself from the ground and hurtled toward his face. The chaos-enhanced animus warrior paused for a split second to flash a half-smile at his dumbfounded twin. The sight of Valentean’s amused countenance drove Kayden into a mindless frenzy, and he leapt like a wild animal.
Combating such feral tactics was child’s play for Valentean, and he easily reached through Kayden’s non-existent defense, striking out with a flaming palm to the chest, which sent the bigger Burai tumbling back, where he rolled through the dirt, coming up in a crouch. One arm cradled Kayden’s smoldering chest where Valentean could see a red, blistering burn in the shape of his hand. He gave a short barking laugh at his brother’s helpless plight and turned sidelong, one arm raised, awaiting further attack.
Kayden’s rage was a simmering volcano begging to erupt. The casual scorch of Valentean’s assault cooked his flesh and fanned the fires of his own internal strife. How was this possible? How could he, the Spirit of Darkness, be so handily brushed to the side? It was some horrid nightmare from which there was no awakening. Now, Valentean simply stood there regarding Kayden with the smoldering intensity of his stare, goading him to engage in another pointless pass.
And it would indeed be a pointless exercise in futility to continue this one-sided encounter. His rational side was begging with him, pleading for the sake of his continued existence to flee. Just run off and live to fight another day. Let Valentean and Aleksandra kill one another, then return to pick up the pieces…or just never return at all. But Kayden Burai had never been one for rationality. The searing agony of the blistering, bubbling flesh of his chest reminded him that failure here was not an option. Retreating to lick his wounds and pick the bones of the climactic battle between Valentean and Aleksandra would be an insult to the dark power of his soul. It was a slight to the land itself, which bent to his will, and, most importantly, to his pride that would never recover from such a humiliating defeat.
Kayden gritted his teeth as his eyes practically exploded with purple waves of energy. He knew what he had to do. He thought back to the most infuriating and humiliating moments of his life. He saw his father and Valentean walking through a crowded market to find him as a child, lost, alone, and fuming. He saw the Tournament of Animus when Valentean defeated him in this very spot to a chorus of cheers and adulation. He saw the Northern Magic where he had come so close to ultimate victory only to have it snatched away. Then, his thoughts dwelled on Kahntran when he was banished from the battlefield as though he had no purpose, as though he were nothing. And then, Kayden decided that he was not nothing. Kayden decided that he was worthy. He decided to win.
Kayden looked upon his brother, the greatest villain in his life. He gazed at this crimson figure staring at him through a bloodshine hue of fury and found that the hate he had harbored in his heart for Valentean was absent. There was envy still present, resentment for past slights, both real and imagined. But the world-ending hate, the soul-crushing fury brought upon by complete and total loathing just wasn’t there. For an instant, Kayden felt free. And in that moment of freedom, he was in control.
The haze of rage parted from his mind’s eye, and for the first time ever, Kayden did not allow the darkness to command him. Instead, he commanded it. The evening sky became obscured by dark clouds, which swirled unnaturally overhead. Kayden felt his skin tingling as though coursing waves of static were alive beneath his muscles. Purple lightning split the air above the arena in a localized phenomenon exactly as it had been mere hours before when he had knocked Aurax into oblivion.
Kayden could feel the unfettered swirling pool of darkness, and that void was black and infinite. He plunged his essence into this other worldly power and felt the reward of might strengthen and refresh him. His entire body came alight with the same purple energy that had always ignited his irises. The ground trembled under his feet. Kayden glared ahead at Valentean, who seemed only subtly moved by this shift in energy. He glared not in hate but in determination. He was focused. He was ready.
Kayden jumped, the ground beneath him flowing like water as it launched him along the battlefield at his brother. He moved with such intense speed he could scarcely believe it himself. Valentean raised his eyebrows in confusion at Kayden’s meteoric approach. He tried to dive to the side at the last instant, but he was too late. Kayden’s fist found his brother’s midsection, and he felt the satisfying crush of air being pressed from Valentean’s lungs. He pressed the attack, rocking his smaller sibling along the side of the head with a stiff hooking fist. Valentean was taken off his feet and skidded along the dirt. As he rose, Kayden was already advancing.
He tore two large stones from the ground, hurling each at Valentean’s head. The animus warrior spun to avoid the first projectile and attempted to meet the second with a burst of flame fired off from his outstretched right hand. The fireball exploded harmlessly against Kayden’s stone, which continued whole and unfettered on its collision course. Valentean’s face shone with alarm, and he attempted to jump up to avoid it. But this time, he would not be fast enough. The stone shattered against his chest rather than his face, and he was thrown back against the cold ground, ripe for another attack.
Ka
yden would not let this moment go to waste. He relentlessly pursued Valentean, pummeling him with fists and knees and feet and smashing, crashing head-butts. Valentean tried to dodge and counterattack as best he could, but Kayden was everywhere. He was a machine of excellence. He was fully empowered by the sweet, intoxicating depth of the night itself. He dug a fist harshly into Valentean’s ribs and heard his brother cry out in pain. This brought back another flash from the Tournament of Animus when the ribs had been his primary target. A glaring weakness in an otherwise worthy foe. Now, Valentean had no weakness; he had no injury that left him vulnerable. The only path to victory here was utter annihilation. Kayden brought his knee up into Valentean’s chin, and his brother recoiled. He followed up this attack with a mana-empowered front kick to the chest that sent Valentean soaring into the black stone wall, which made up the arena’s circumference.
He leaned back forcibly in a recess created from the impact of his body into the unforgiving stone. His head slumped forward in defeat. For the first time, Valentean was utterly defenseless. Kayden dashed at his brother’s limp body, one arm held out to the side. Shards of shattered rock leapt to his hand, surrounding his fist, creating a hammering weapon of devastation with which he would end both this battle and their rivalry.
Valentean’s hand moved faster than Kayden had ever dreamt possible, arm outstretched to capture Kayden’s rocky fist, holding it with ease centimeters from his face. Kayden gasped in shock, bearing down on his brother with all his might. And in response, Valentean…smiled. The pained expression he had worn as Kayden pummeled him into submission was gone. The faint trickle of blood leaking from the side of his mouth was the only visible reminder of the brief moments where victory had seemed attainable.
Kayden attempted to pull his fist back, but Valentean’s fingers dug through the stony glove and held him tightly. The purple light of darkness faded from Kayden’s eyes as Valentean’s crimson glare only increased. The rocks surrounding Kayden’s fist suddenly burst into flames, the orange, crackling fire breaking through the stone and biting into the flesh of his hand and arm.
The black dragon of the Rosinanti screamed in agony, desperately pulling his arm until his shoulder nearly popped from its socket. But it was to no avail. Valentean was impossibly strong and even more impossibly remorseless as his lips twisted into some horrifying amalgamation of a smirk and a snarl.
As the flames reached Kayden’s shoulder, spreading tearing, blistering pain up the extremity, Valentean suddenly let go, and Kayden fell back, rolling along the ground in an attempt to douse the blaze before it would spread and consume him. Staring at the smoldering, red, raw mess of blisters and shriveled fabric that had once been his arm, Kayden stumbled to his feet, determined to meet Valentean standing. When he turned, his brother was gone. Kayden never saw anything; he simply felt the kick to his knee, jab at his throat, and thundering kick to the chest that sent him sliding back along the ground.
As he skidded to a harsh and uncomfortable stop, Kayden looked up at Valentean, who stood perfectly in place, wiping away the small trickle of blood Kayden had managed to draw from his lips.
“Now you’ll pay,” Valentean whispered, so softly, but with the fury of an inferno quaking every syllable. Valentean’s entire body began to glow a pale white, the alabaster glare growing until it shone like a second sun. Kayden shielded his eyes as he struggled his way up to one knee. He knew what was coming. He had felt the transformation far too many times for it to ever be mistaken.
Valentean could have finished him right there. Bitterly, he realized his mighty brother likely could have ended the one-sided conflict far earlier had he been so inclined. Valentean, however, seemed to be out to make a statement, and he wanted to end Kayden’s life in the form that the larger Burai brother cherished above all else.
The light died, and Kayden could see once more. And the sight before him chilled his blood beneath the angry scatter of burns that scorched his once pale flesh. Valentean loomed above him, impossibly large as a winged white dragon. Kayden had tousled with this beast twice before, and both times, he had arisen victorious. Now though, there was one extreme difference. The alabaster dragon’s white scales were no longer aglow as they had once been. Its radiance was but a distant memory. The white, scaly flesh instead appeared almost grey. The only light came from its eyes, shining in the crimson fury of chaos.
Kayden was terrified faced with this winged death. But he would not yield. He would never surrender or run. Despite this insurmountable foe, he was still Kayden Burai, Spirit of Darkness, sovereign of the land, black dragon of the Rosinanti. And if he were to fall, he would do so in his true form. Kayden screamed in exhilaration as purple light enveloped him, swallowing up the shell of his human body and replacing it with the ebony wrath of a dragon-god.
XXVIII: Darkness Falls
Maura slashed in a furious combination of alternating dagger swipes, but her assault never came close to the smirking sorceress. Aleksandra was speed on a level Maura could not believe existed. She bobbed and darted, bending herself away with such extreme ease it was almost comical.
Maura aimed a horizontal slash at the empress’s face, but Aleksandra vanished in a puff of crimson smoke. Maura heard the air swish behind her, followed by an explosive impact landing across her back. She shot forward, planting her face into the unnaturally lush grass that covered the entirety of the throne chamber. It had been a shove. A simple shove like one might casually push a friend after a bout of foolishness, and it had incapacitated her completely.
She gasped for air, rolling over and clutching at her sides to see Aleksandra casually smiling down at her.
“So now you see the hopelessness of your plight,” she said slowly, allowing the moment to sink in. “And now, wretched girl, I send you to rejoin your fool father in oblivion!” Aleksandra raised one arm, two fingers pointed at Maura like a leveled weapon. The last surviving resident of the former village of Lazman winced as she awaited the lightning bolt that would reduce her to ashes.
Sparking jolts of white lightning erupted between the combatants, wrapping around the empress’s outstretched arm. Nahzarro had returned to the fray and yanked hard on the whip that sizzled and sparked against Aleksandra’s forearm. It did not so much as burn through the fabric of her robe. The Grassani king attempted to pull on the whip’s handle to drag Aleksandra away from Maura, but the sorceress did not budge.
“Brave, Your Majesty,” she mocked with a wink. “But ultimately fruitless.” She yanked her arm back, and Nahzarro flew forward. Aleksandra dashed, striking the newly crowned monarch with an open palm to the chest, which sent him soaring, landing in a heap upon the ground.
Aleksandra turned her attention to Nahzarro now, and Maura took the opportunity to roll away, her entire body still aching in the aftermath of that mighty shove. A full punch or kick would likely break the young warrior in two.
“Maura,” a familiar voice said from behind.
Turning, Maura saw Seraphina kneeling at her side and instantly threw her arms around the princess’s neck in a wild, crushing embrace.
“I never thought I would be so happy to see you alive!” Maura cried out.
“I’m going to choose to be flattered by that.”
Maura separated from the awkward embrace and looked Seraphina in her chestnut eyes. “We have to keep her distracted.”
“You have a plan?”
“Yes. It’s a long story, but one of our allies is working on a way to weaken her. Our army is amassed outside the gates of the city, and Valentean…well, he should be here any second…I hope.”
“Where is Val?” Seraphina cried out, gripping Maura by the shoulders. “The chaos…does it have him still?”
The hope and dread intermingled in Seraphina’s frantic questioning tone and stare were heartbreaking. “Yes…” she admitted, turning her gaze to the ground in shame. “We’re trying to use it to our advantage, but he had to save his father from execution.”
“Ther
e is no advantage to that disease!” Seraphina cried out, anger and disgust darkening her face.
“Well, we didn’t have much choice. He’s not giving it up voluntarily, and we’re not really in a position to stop him!”
Seraphina’s expression softened, followed by a look of remorse, sadness, and determination all mixed into one. “You’re right, Maura. I’m sorry. We need to keep Aleksandra occupied.” Both women looked over to see Nahzarro cracking his remaining whip in the space between him and the empress, holding her at bay like one might a wild animal.
“Nahzarro can’t keep that up forever,” Maura said, her brow furrowing in concern. “We need to help him.”
“I will help him,” Seraphina stated. “You need to hang back and let us handle it. She’s too strong. The second she gets the slightest bit frustrated or serious, you’ll be dead in an instant.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I’m not letting the two of you take her on alone.”
“Please, Maura,” Seraphina exclaimed, her voice dripping with concern and desperation. “If I’m worried about your safety, then I won’t be able to fight her at full strength.”
Maura’s mouth hung open as she attempted to find some way to disagree with the princess’s logic. She had no other argument save for, but I want to help, and that would not do. She simply nodded. As she acquiesced, Aleksandra let loose a crackling burst of red lightning, which Nahzarro absorbed with his whip. A second burst from her fingertips, however, disarmed the king and knocked him to the ground. Maura looked to Seraphina with a newfound desperation of her own.
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