The Elements of Zion: the Vine, the Branch, and the Thorn

Chapter 11 Dragon Lies

Suddenly, the peaceful desert erupted into a nightmare as Thorns started bursting forth from the sands. Trose and I were caught off guard, each swallowed by a chaotic wave of darkness. I tried to reach Trose, desperation fueling my steps, but was blocked at every turn, each Thorn more monstrous than the last. With no other option, I drew The Flame from its sheath, its cold steel offering a grim comfort. My heart raced in my chest like a caged bird as I found myself back against the raging tide, the quiet peace of just moments ago shattered by the brutal reality of the battle.

Wielding The Flame with determination, I plunged into the thicket of Thorns, slashing and cutting my way through. The heat of the desert was forgotten in the icy fear that gripped me, but I fought on, each stroke of my sword a desperate plea for survival. Suddenly, an acute sense of danger snapped me from my frenzy and I yanked the shield from my back, raising it just in time to block a vicious strike aimed at my heart. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through me, but the shield held firm, its metal surface gleaming with a defiance that echoed my own.

Just when I thought I was gaining ground, I glanced ahead. My heart sank with dread as I saw an infinite stretch of Thorns crawling out from the ground. The sight was overwhelming, a monstrous tide that seemed to go on forever. Trose was nowhere to be seen, swallowed by this sea of darkness. Panic welled up within me, a cold, hollow feeling that threatened to engulf me. The Flame felt heavy in my hand, its once comforting solidity now a grim reminder of the odds stacked against me.

Then, amidst the clamor of battle and the roar of the Thorns, a voice pierced through me, a voice that froze my blood and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Her tone chillingly calm, her words a sinuous whisper that slithered its way through the chaos. "Oh, my dear Isaac," she crooned, her laughter echoing like a peal of thunder, "did you really believe the Destroyer was the true threat? How quaint. He was merely a distraction, a weak prelude to the true terror yet to come.".

Her mocking voice punctuated the clamor of the raging battle, her taunts echoing in my ears as I struggled against the sea of Thorns. Now and then, I would catch a glimpse of her, a wraithlike figure flitting amongst the chaos, her laughter like ice shards against my skin. I pressed on, every swing of The Flame fueled by a furious determination. As I lunged at what I thought was the next Thorn, I was met with an unexpected resistance. The sound of metal clashing against metal reverberated through the air, a harsh reminder of my miscalculation. As the dust cleared, my heart fell down to my stomach with a sickening realization. It was not a Thorn that I had tried to strike, but the scythe of Briah herself.

And there she stood, just like the first time I beheld her captivating yet awe-inspiring presence of mortality and devastation. The realization hit me like a punch in the mouth - I was face-to-face with my executioner once more. The chaos of battle seemed to silence around us, every Thorn, every roar fading into insignificance. It was only the two of us, her and I.

A cruel smile twisted Briah's lips as her gaze fell upon my armor,  "Oh, look at you," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom, "Are we now transformed? And, adorned with the armor of The Vine. How truly heroic." Her laughter rang out again, a discordant symphony that danced upon the wind.

I could feel a surge of power as Briah began to gather her strength, a palpable force that made my sword tremble in my grip. Her scythe, once like a sliver of moonlight against the dark desert sands, began to grow. It grew larger and more menacing, intensifying until it was blinding, a beacon of death in the chaos of the battle. Then, her eyes, filled with a cruel glee, met mine again.

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'let's see how you handle this,' and then she screamed out, her voice a searing wind that seemed to cut through the sounds of the battlefield. "Oh, Isaac!" She cried, pointing her scythe at me as if it was an extension of her finger. "I am going to enjoy burning you in the fire this time! Your screams will be a sweet melody to my ears!" The cruel pleasure in her voice was unmistakable, and a chill ran down my spine. I tightened my grip on The Flame, determined to stand my ground.

The scythe's blinding light surged towards me, its deadly hunger pushing The Flame of Zion mere inches from my face. I struggled against the force, my muscles straining with the effort as I tried to push back. Yet, it was like trying to hold back a tidal wave with my bare hands. I could feel the strength draining from me, my resolve faltering under the relentless onslaught.

With the last shred of my strength, I managed a grunt, "Help...me." It was barely a whisper, the words choked out between gritted teeth. But it was enough. Suddenly, there was a deafening roar, and I felt myself being torn from the ground. The world spun around me, the harsh desert landscape blurred into a whirlwind of sand and sky. I was flying, the ground rapidly receding below me. The heat of the scythe's light began to fade, replaced by the cold rush of the wind as I was whisked away from the clutches of death once more.

As the wind howled in my ears and the ground continued to recede, Trose's voice pierced the tumult. His words were carried on the gusts of wind, a defiant shout against the roiling chaos below. "Nay, this isn't our time! The scales of fate have not yet tipped!"

His wings beat with renewed vigor, carrying us further away from the battlefield and Briah's maniacal laughter. As darkness enveloped the sky, we rose higher and higher into the clouds. The turmoil below faded away, replaced by a tranquil expanse of misty white. We were above it all now, in a world of silence and stillness. But my mind couldn't rest, trying to make sense of the chaos that had transpired just hours ago under the cloak of night.

"Trose, what happened to those guardians? Briah did that?".

Trose was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

"Nay, it wasn't Briah. She does not hold the power to do such a thing, not even close," he said, his voice steady and controlled. "The guardians are the hand of Zion, not easily put out. That... that was somethin' else entirely."

But what could possess such power?

Out of nowhere, a deafening roar unlike any I had ever heard pierced through the peaceful silence, cutting through the thick cloud cover with an intensity that felt like a stampede.

The moonlit sky cowered under the weight of this unearthly sound, unsettling the peaceful darkness with its violent intrusion. The tranquil midnight canvas was now tainted with terror and uncertainty. Trose stiffened above me, his gaze scanning the horizon with a steely intensity. His hand gripped my shoulder tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric of my armor as the sound faded, leaving an eerie quiet in its wake. His voice, when it came, was harsh, "He's here." The stern, measured tone I had become accustomed to was gone, replaced by a solemnity that filled me with dread.

A voice then boomed from below, resonating with a primal energy that could only come from a beast that was ancient and powerful. "Why are you running from me..?" The voice seemed to ooze from the very earth beneath us, rumbling and vibrating through the air, causing the clouds around us to ripple in fear.

Then, another voice emerged above us, resonating with the same authoritative tone and commanding presence, "Old friend..."

Trose roared back, fury erupting from him like flames. "Friend?!" He spat the word out as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Ye stopped bein' ma friend when ye turned yer back on The Most High! When ye chose darkness over light, chaos over order! Ye're not my friend, King of Thorns!"

Just then, with a deafening roar and a rush of wind that threatened to knock us out of the sky, the beast came forth and surged up through the clouds beneath us. Its gaping maw, lined with jagged, thorn-like teeth, snapped viciously at our heels, narrowly missing us. The sheer size of the creature was incomprehensible, dwarfing us in its shadow. With scales as black as night and as sharp as daggers, it was a creature born of nightmares. Its fiery eyes, ablaze with malice, bored into me, its primal fury stirring a chilling fear in the depths of my soul. It was a sinister dragon, with powerful wings stretched wide, casting a shadow over the clouds below.

I stared at the monstrous beast beneath us, my heart stopping in my chest. My voice cracked, fear bleeding through like a leaky faucet. "Trose," I stammered, "there ain't no way in hell we're taking down one of those things!"

"Nay, we're not," he replied, his voice strained,"Especially when there's two of them."

Before I could even register his words, a second dragon, identical in its terrifying splendor to the first, erupted from the cloud cover, its jaws snapping at us. Its scales shimmered like obsidian, its eyes burning with the same chilling hatred. They were two sides of the same coin, twinned beasts of destruction. As the twin dragons circled us, their roars echoing off the mountain peaks, I felt the horrifying reality of our situation seep in. We were trapped, and escape seemed impossible.