Nezzar

Part One: Shadow With Horns

One moment Ziba was watching the showdown in Shur, and the next a shadow burst from the earth and fused to her arm. Her yell had come at once, the sudden pain white-hot and blinding.

Springing to her feet, Ziba pulled at her arm. Fighting. A tug of war. But the burning shadow remained sure, creeping higher, pulling her down, scorching as it went. Unable to help it, her blue form tore through her human disguise, gold melting and forming a sword in her free hand. With it, she swiped at the shadow. It was no use. The weapon passed right through.

Panic bubbled within Ziba, the chaos growing wakeful at the same instant. It opened both eyes, translating her fear as weakness—something to conquer. Her terror doubled when she truly looked at her trapped arm. From her elbow down to the tips of her fingers had blackened and grown stiff. Was that what was happening to the rest? One glance in Ra's direction and she saw that wasn't the case. They were merely fastened to the ground by Apophis' hells vine.

No. No. No. This can't be happening. I am Ziba. A mighty spirit. I conquer. No one takes my will.

When the burning shadow crept past her elbow, Ziba knew what she must do. Her arm had to go. Not giving herself a moment to rationalise the thought, she formed a golden sword in her left hand once more. With it she sliced; a single motion. Bright blue energy burst from the cut, sealing the wound. No blue blood in sight. And the pain. It consumed her.

Fangs punched out, slicing the skin of Ziba's upper lips as she wrestled with that maddening instinct to yell for all the world to hear her agony.

The golden sword trembled in her grip as she stared at the heavens, counting down numbers. Pulling in strength. Like a towering tide within her, chaos rose and demanded to be set free. She summoned and reinforced a shield around her, losing all bodily sensation as she did so. The detached blackened arm lay on the ground like deadwood. Mocking her. Perhaps she should take it with her, place it on one of Abaddon's many shelves. A constant reminder. A show of her carelessness.

It will be a fascinating display. Indeed, such a lovely hand I had. Though the thought bore her voice, it sounded distant, detached. Chaos had taken over. She stopped resisting Chao's push. Let him come. Standing straighter, she let the sword in her grip melt, sink into her flesh, and merge with her bone.

Chaos, that dragon of blue fur, obsidian curved horns, ivory fangs, and amber fire for eyes, emerged from the cage of Ziba's body. Instead of appearing like a separate entity, if fused with Ziba, covering her like muscles covered bones. His form was serpentine and long, four feet tipped with shiny black talons and it was with those talons he grabbed at Apophis the very moment he appeared before him.

***

After transporting them to a large fenced structure with immaculate horticulture and perfect stonework, the boys were given a tour of the 'school'.

There had been several exotic animals—animals Daniel had never seen in his life. Some were so fearsome and majestic; it seemed a crime to have them locked in a cage for mere human observation and entertainment. There had been springs too. Clearwater bubbling amidst colourful gardens and painted rocks. Babylon had been striking that first week but Daniel was getting tired of it all, overwhelmed to the point of tears. Tears he gave in to when no one was watching. It would seem he was truly unable to get over the loss of his parents. It was as though the pain doubled every day; he was unable to forget.

So, Daniel used his current situation to distract himself. So deeply had he sunk into his studies that his three Judean friends, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah, were pulled into his storm of learning. Excelling became easier as the days crawled by. And their meal of choice too.