Nezzar

Part One: A Band of Silver

Abaddon summoned fire. The blazing walls stood seven feet tall and burned vibrant blue. Despite the fiery barrier, the infected scouts did not relent. They flung themselves at the flames, eyes crazed and mouth leaking black slime. All were incinerated at the point of contact, but that wasn't enough to tear them from Marduk's hold.

Marduk.

Mild annoyance buzzed at the back of Abaddon's mind as he went about incinerating his once-loyal scouts with cool detachment.

The madness had begun when Abaddon arrived at the Southern region of Cush. He had been following the trail of infected scouts, determined to find where Marduk hid his body. Coming upon the place, he met thousands so densely packed. Some scouts were his and some weren't. Even Gribs, independent scout ravens, were in their number. Marduk had been beyond busy. And it was clear he was growing stronger.

Abaddon had allowed himself to be spotted by the rabid pack. Summoning his battle scouts was not an option; it would be foolish to add to the army of his enemy. So he resorted to the elements. The ground opened, gulped scouts, and ground them to ash.

And fire. Abaddon moved it like water, waves of flame washing over a great number, leaving nothing in its wake. Standing upon a lone cloud hovering inches above the ground, Abaddon felled enemy after enemy. Then he sensed it. A shift.

Growing still, Abaddon lifted his eyes to the West.

Even as Abaddon summoned his portal, there was a knowing on his inside. Something had gone horribly wrong and he was a bit late in sensing it.

When Abaddon stepped foot within his territory, the first thing he saw was Ziba's severed arm. Her essence had vanished, absolutely nothing in the air to give him hope.

Blackness covered Abaddon's sight. Centuries of suppressed rage came bursting forth, spilling and spreading. Wings of fire and lightning tore through both shoulders. His hair grew fuller in a flash, resembling a lion's mane. Blue energy crackled around him, flames shooting from his mouth as he roared at the sky.

"Stop."

The command shredded his blind rage and gripped him by the neck. Abaddon glanced in the direction the word came. In the sea of black, one figure remained illuminated, bright enough to force him to squint.

Algodon.

Abaddon's fangs made an appearance. "Stay out of my business." The words rumbled like thunder on their way out.

Something registered just then, Abaddon's rage had stopped growing and the destructive force swelling around him was slowly receding. He did not need to look at his arm to confirm what Algodon had done to him.

Abaddon's sight returned to what it once was, the darkness disappearing like fog in the sun.

"I had to bind you," Algodon said as he strolled over. His garment whipped in the harsh spiritual wind Abaddon's rage had generated. His normally grey eyes were white and illuminated, and his silver headband possessed a bright disturbing shine.

Abaddon's rage continued to dwindle against his will.

"Better?" Algodon said with an easy smile. Finally, he stood before Abaddon, his posture at ease and stare solemn. "I know it burns but you have to live with the pain until we sort out this thing with your spirit."

Abaddon huffed, barely noticing his wings fade to nothing. "Ziba is not my spirit." He shuddered to think of the damage he would have done if Algodon had not come when he did. Looking down at the silver band pulsing around his wrist, Abaddon asked without looking up, "what did he do to her?"