“No!” Ofeera screamed in horror as she watched a pillar of blinding white light shoot out from Theredonie’s eyes, mouth, and the tips of his fingers. Azarielle retaliated by unleashing an attack with her own wand, but not even her master’s powerful creation could withstand the destructive force unleashed by the bereaved young elf. The white light engulfed the young mage with a deafening roar.
The moment she could see again, Ofeera was up on her feet, running unsteadily towards her friend. Her vision was blurred by dancing spots of light, and her ears still rang from the sound of the attack, but she did no care. Through the layer of almost tangible smoke that hung in the air, she could see her friend’s motionless form lay on the ground.
“Well, it seems you are certainly agitated, dear Theredoniel,” Lucien remarked drily. “I had hoped to have more of a word with the lovely lady.”
Ofeera practically fell to a kneeling position next to Azarielle’s unconscious form. Almost immediately, her nose was assaulted with the stench of burnt flesh, and she almost gagged when she saw its source. The mage’s red coat and whatever shirt she had worn underneath were blasted into tatters. Though her face had not been marked, most of her upper body was badly burned and bleeding profusely in several places.
With trembling fingers, the healer laid her hands upon her friends’ body and began to pray. But, her eyes caught sight of her dead sister’s body standing motionlessly some distance away and staring blankly into nothingness, and all reason flew from her mind. Her sluggish tongue mangled the words she had tried to speak, and nothing but incoherent babbling tumbled out from between her lips.
Standing a few feet away, his face drained of blood, Theredoniel stared at Azarielle in horror and disbelief. He could barely comprehend what had happened! One moment, he was trying to tell his friend that he intended to save his wife, and then… and then…
An enraged cry echoed in his ears, and he turned around just as a human knight with the same face as Lucien closed the distance between them in one wild leap and thrust a sword deep into his belly. Pain like he had never experienced before ripped through his body. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came forth was a wet gurgle and a gush of blood.
Theredoniel collapsed as the blade was pulled roughly out of his body. Blood and other thicker things spilled into his hands as his vision dimmed. As he slipped slowly into the all consuming darkness, he thought he heard Eowyna’s voice calling his name.
However, the one who had called out in shock was Ofeera. The healer had looked up just as Luthien struck down her brother-in-law, and though she screamed at him not to deal a death blow, his ears were deaf to her. Luthien’s eyes seethed with fury, and his handsome face was twisted by an animalistic snarl. Wordlessly, the young knight flicked away the blood from his blade and advanced towards his brother.
“Your dear brother-in-law is quite the melodramatic fellow isn’t he?”
Ofeera started and then jerked back in alarm when she noticed that Lucien was standing almost right behind him.
“He spent our entire journey being in a terrible mood and then picks the most inconvenient time to get himself almost disemboweled. Honestly my darling Ofeera, I don’t know why you sister was quite so hung up on him. Really, he’s…”
Before Lucien had a chance to complete his sentence, Breaker was suddenly upon him, striking at him in one lightning fast motion. Even as Ofeera screamed, thinking that Lucien was about to be cut down, the wicked prince’s body dissolved into a plume of black smoke.
Luthien held out his hand towards where his brother had been standing and called out to the Eternal Father. Bright gold flames burst forth from the tips of his fingers and engulfed the tendrils of darkness that writhed like snakes in the air. Without pause, the young knight closed his fingers into a fist and the shinning flames swallowed up the smoke entirely.
The fire continued to burn for a while before disappearing after one bright flare. Luthien dropped to one knee and tried to catch his breath. The Holy Fire was the greatest weapon the Eternal Father bestowed upon his paladins. But, it took a heavy toll on the strength of its user, so much so that Luthien had seen others of his Order die of exhaustion after pouring out Abihayil’s wrath upon his enemies. At least he had seen the smoky form of Lucien being destroyed by the flames…
“That was entirely too close.”
Luthien’s eyes widened with outrage and dread as he turned his face in the direction of the voice. Sure enough, Lucien stood some distance away, facetiously dusting of his coat from which tendrils of smoke rose. The cruel prince lifted his right hand to examine, revealing skin that become blistered and was peeling away. Unlike the other wounds he had sustained so far, his skin and flesh did not mend itself back into wholeness but remained burnt.
“If you had been just a little faster, dear brother,” Lucien’s mouth curved into a pleasant smile but his eyes flashed coldly.
Snarling wordlessly, Luthien pointed at his brother and prayed to the Eternal Father for his gift of the flames once again. But before he could complete his prayer, Lucien made a flicking motion with one of his fingers. Immediately, Luthien felt his chest, where his brother had once laid his hand, grow warm. And then, just as with his arm, the flesh across his chest began to tear apart as if invisible claws were ripping him asunder.
Luthien immediately pressed his hand over the wound and tried to fight off his brother’s vile power. His fingers became sticky with his own blood as he tried to stop the wound from tearing further. But even as he managed to stem the flow of blood from the chest wound, the wound along his arm tore apart again.
Gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain, Luthien lifted his head and glared at his brother. From where he stood, Lucien watched him with a pleasant smile and monstrous, uncaring eyes. Those eyes that seemed to resemble chips of ice for all the life and warmth that they held told him in no uncertain terms that to Lucien, he had no more significance than an ant. And, as his vision wavered from the loss of blood, he though he caught glimpse of a dark shadow, in the shape of some winged creature clinging to his twin.
A lithe figure darted past him and towards Lucien, and Luthien saw a flash of silver as Breaker struck out at his brother. Lucien made no move to block or side step, choosing instead to stand his ground. The shadowy form stretched forward and wrapped itself around the elf. Breaker was entirely blind to the shadowy form. He had only a moment of warning, when his breakers practically shrieked in alarm, before what felt like a giant hand wrap around his body.
Scalding coldness seared through his body, and the elf let out a cry of pain. He thrashed violently against this attack, but what held him was as immovable as rock. Burning ice rolled through his bodies in waves, setting his nerves ablaze in agony. He felt his strength, his will, his very life itself being drawn out of his body. His breakers slipped from his convulsing fingers.
Luthien watched in horror as a miasma of darkness enveloped the gray elf. He tried to rise to his feet to offer aid, but before he had taken more than two steps, Lucien turned to face him. He beheld his brother’s inhuman eyes before a terrible sight swallowed his entire vision. The world was consumed by a fire that seemed somehow a living entity. The smell of ash filled his nostrils and a thousand banshees shrieked in his ear. His own body was ablaze, and his scream joined the multitude of screams.
Then, as suddenly as the nightmarish vision had come, it was gone. He found himself kneeling on the ground, his wounds still bleeding profusely but not worsening. A few feet away, Breaker was struggling to his feet, although the gray elves’ usually fluid motions were jerky and unsteady.
Not knowing what his brother was planning, Luthien looked up and was started to see a fleeting look of surprise passing over his brother’s face. Lucien paid no heed to either Breaker or Luthien, looking instead at something behind them. Half expecting this to be another cruel trick, Luthien nevertheless found himself unable to resist the urge to look back behind him.
To his shock and joy, he found Azarielle standing upright on her own two feet. Her bright red coat and whatever shirt she had worn underneath fluttered around her in tatters, baring more flesh than was modest. But the burnt and bleeding flesh had become whole.
But something was not quite right about the mage. Her eyes were closed and her head was tilted to one side with a small smile on her face as if she was listening to some melody that only her ears can hear. She took a few almost dancer-like steps and even did a little swirl.
“Azarielle, what are you doing?” Luthien asked. The mage didn’t answer, but she didn’t open her eyes and look at him. The sight of her eyes made his stomach drop to the soles of his boots. Just like the time on the boat, he saw arcs of golden lightning flashing in the depths of her dark amber eyes. And again, when he looked into those eyes, he beheld the fiery maelstrom with its tongues of hungry fire and heard ten thousand voices each screaming a different song.
There was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him, even though she said, “Luthien Delynd, paladin prince of the Achienda Empire and Holder of the Holy Flame of Abihayil.”
“What is the matter with you, mage?” he demanded. Azarielle laughed. It was a lilting yet frightening sound that carried the cacophonic echo of the voices he had heard.
Instead of answering him, she turned her attention to Lucien.
Azarielle held out her hands holding them in a cupped position. She spoke a few words in the arcane language, and a bright red-gold fire sprung to life in her hands. With another discordant-sounding laugh, the young mage tossed the small fireball into the air and blew a kiss at it.
The small fireball grew brighter and larger as it twirled madly in the air, and then all of a sudden, the fiery form of a phoenix burst into life and hurled itself at Lucien. The dark form that clung to Lucien shot forth to meet the attack, and when the two powers met, black fire exploded into the sky with a deafening roar that sent Luthien and Breaker flying backwards.
Luthien lost consciousness for a moment, but when he finally came to, he found Breaker kneeling beside him with his large throwing star held in front of him.
“And that, Knight, is why all mages are dangerous,” the elf said wryly, never taking his eyes off either Azarielle or Lucien.
The two were locked in battle, red-gold flames pitted against icy darkness, and producing deadly black fire that seemed to touch the sky. Azarielle had become like a creature of fire, her black hair tinted red-gold by the dancing flames that had wrapped around her body like her red coat had. And, she laughed all the while as she fought Lucien, her head thrown back and her voice resounding dissonantly throughout the clearing.
Pillars of fire shot out of the ground, reducing the elven ghouls to ash. But the flames did not disappear as they had in the past once the ghoul was consumed. Instead, they continued to burn, spreading like an angry red wave throughout the clearing.
“Azarielle, what are you doing?!” Luthien screamed at the mage. “If you keep it up, you will bring burn to the ground!”
She paid him no heed, and the flames continued to blame.
“Azarielle, please stop!” Ofeera’s voice called out from somewhere across the sea of fire. “I cannot shield everyone from your fire any longer!”
Breaker cursed softly in his own language and began advancing towards the mage, his eyes narrowed.
“What in the name of the Eternal Father are you doing?” Luthien demanded, grabbing the elf by his wrist.
“She has lost her mind, Knight. And she will turn us all to ashes if she continues!” Breaker spat the words out from between clenched teeth, pulling his arm back with surprising strength.
“Breaker, don’t!” Luthien growled, drawing his sword and rounding on the elf.
“You would try and stop me, knight?”
“Don’t do it. There has got to be another…”
Before he could finish the sentence, a sudden wave of power, followed by superheated air rolled over them. Luthien reacted quickly enough to throw a shield up around himself and Breaker so that they were not evaporated on the spot. The heat did not let up though, as he had thought it would, and neither did the terrible power that continued to roll over them in unrelenting waves. It was all he could do to hold his shield in place, and even then Luthien knew that he was not going to be able to withstand this power for much longer.
And then, one more wave of power crashed over them. He felt his shield crumble, felt the searing heat upon his eyebrows, and…
Abruptly the power disappeared and, when he opened his eyes, the flames had disappeared too. In fact, everything had been returned back to normal. The forest remained unharmed, and in fact, Luthien found himself looking at several dozen confused looking high elves who were very much alive and not ghouls.
Azarielle lay on the ground, unconscious but apparently uninjured. Standing over her was an old elven woman, so wrinkled that her face looked like weathered parchment.
“I say, did everyone have a pleasant dream?”
