Of Silver Rays and Raven Fur | ONC24

20. Cordolium.

Invisible ties sprouted from the ground, holding Accalia captive and ensuring she remained rooted to the spot unable to summon her powers. She could only watch hopelessly as Alarick faced off the intruders alone.

Rage flared within him, provoking a seamless shift. His canines and claws feasted on the attackers, tearing through flesh with primal fury, and dead bodies tumbled around him.

His satisfaction was momentary, however, interrupted by the descent of the silver orbs upon him. They whizzed around in disarray before soaking his body in a downpour of scorching pain, molten argent searing his fur, seeping into his skin.

Alarick's yowl reverberated through the clearing, a primal cry of agony and defiance as the mysterious mixture set his entirety ablaze. Flames burned behind his hardened gaze, and he wobbled, heaving for air and fighting to remain standing.

Tears streamed down Accalia's cheeks, burning in their descent. Helplessness tore through her heart, and she struggled hard against the magical prison she was subjected to. Bruises formed on her wrists and marred her supple flesh when she kept tugging, begging her feet to move.

"Alarick," she wailed, frustration sharpening her tone. "Run away. Leave. Go, please!"

Her pleas fell on deaf ears, however. She was ludicrous to believe he would even consider that as an option.

'It is either both of us or nothing at all,' he panted, forcing the words through their mind medium.

Squaring his shoulders, Alarick limped back toward the rogues, facing them head-on once more. He fought valiantly against the onslaught, his strikes landing with less vigor than usual as he struggled to stay upright and protect his beloved. With each blow exchanged, he felt the weight of their dire situation pressing down upon him, threatening to overwhelm him.

Despite his best efforts, the odds seemed insurmountable.

Accalia sobbed harder, crumpling to the ground in a sniveling mess. No matter what she did, her powers refused to heed her call. And so, unable to intervene, she could only watch in horror as the encroaching darkness threatened to consume everything she held dear.

"Alarick," she spluttered, her voice barely a whisper as she curled in on herself to protect her child.

A few wolves breached Alarick's defense line, overpowering his exhausted form. Shedding fur for skin, they surrounded Accalia, their unyielding grip grabbing and pulling her toward the shadows of the treeline. They trampled over her hair, their sharp nails digging into her skin, but she refused to yield, clinging to the last shreds of her strength and defiance.

Despite her struggles, none spared a glance, their faces an unemotional mask. The magic cast on them had stripped away their free will, the raw brutality, and the ugly sneer that usually marked rogues.

"No!" she screeched, bucking and digging her feet into the ground. Her screams echoed through the night as they overwhelmed her with their strength, and she was reduced to nothing more than a powerless mortal.

"What does it feel like to lose the power you have known for as long as you have lived? What does it feel like to lose everything?" an unfamiliar, decaying voice taunted, too distorted to discern its gender.

Accalia's world crumbled as she watched Alarick collapse, his once-majestic form now a grim sight of oozing red and ugly wounds that refused to heal. Her shouts faded into the bleak forest, her voice hoarse from calling his name.

She frantically reached out through their mind link, searching for any flicker of life from him. But there was no response, only the sound of stiff footfalls filling the void of his presence. Her body grew heavy, no longer fighting back. With each step the intruders took, dragging her further into the darkness, she felt a piece of her soul slipping away.