Born of Flames

Chapter 45 ~ One Last Purpose

    Neeri couldn't stop her tears from falling even as she guarded Gaelen from the remaining corpses that had surrounded them. She hacked through each one with unchecked rage, occasionally shifting into her wolf long enough to rip their bodies in half.

    Even then, anguish coursed through her like an unrelenting river. Her mind was already tearing itself apart trying to convince her that none of this was real. That Arlon and Morana were fine. That she was going to survive this. But she didn't want to survive. Not anymore.

    She'd fought every day to survive as Astaroth's captive. She'd done everything she could to keep herself safe until she and Gaelen had escaped. She had spent every day since then pulling herself out of the rut she had been left in. And finally, just when she'd breached the surface of that unending chasm, the bank had crumbled beneath her fingers and she'd tumbled right back down.

    Arlon was gone. Morana was nothing but ashes in the wind. And her other companions were now just hollow echoes of themselves. Only Gaelen retained some semblance of rationality in his disciplined blows. Rehema had become a gory wraith, her silvery hair now stained red from Arlon's blood, her own, and the blood she shed with her blades.

    Tarion moved like an animal, his attacks feral and vengeful, and magic thrashing around him with no regard for their proximity. Even Lonan was unfamiliar with the rage and pain that accompanied his steps.

    He had already recovered Noxbane and wielded it against Astaroth with almost as much hatred as Tarion. Neeri's stomach had churned when she first saw the blade in Lonan's grasp and the ashes and gore that clung to its hilt and his hands.

    Arlon's blood still coated her own, and she had to fight back bile and tears every time she caught a hint of its scent. She couldn't even fathom the pain Lonan and Tarion were in right now. Morana had been her best friend, but she was all they had left in the world.

    Neeri slashed her sword through another corpse's middle and watched as the two halves crumpled and did not rise. She whirled around in search of another target, but her gaze snagged on Tarion first. There wasn't a hint of the male she'd come to know within his wild features.

    His fangs were bared, his garnet eyes wide and unfocused. Dark hair clung to the splatters of blood across his face and he didn't seem aware of the few rivulets that had dripped over his mouth and coated his teeth. Waves of magic pulsed around him, growing increasingly stronger. He slammed his blades against Astaroth's talons, snarling in the dark Lord's face.

    His magic swelled again and Neeri cried out as Gaelen tackled her to the ground just as it burst from Tarion's skin, crackling over their heads in a searing circle. The corpses caught in the blast vanished in a spray of blood, not even a trace of skin and bone left.

    Neeri didn't look at Gaelen as he hauled her to her feet. How could she thank him, when she already wished Tarion's blow had taken her life too? She threw herself back into the fray without a word, Gaelen hovering close beside her.

•༻☽☾༺•

    Tarion spat a mouthful of blood and dodged beneath Astaroth's extended talons, twisting behind the god-spawn. His magic shot through shadowy flesh, leaving a gaping hole, but it began to patch itself together almost instantly. Tarion gritted his teeth and ducked backwards as shards of obsidian whistled past his face.

    Several corpses behind him collapsed with breathless shrieks and fell still. Another wave of fire from Tarion's fingers silenced the rest of them. He jerked his gaze back to Astaroth, then paused, spying something beyond him. Neeri broke away from Gaelen and sprinted towards their other two companions, leaving the other male behind.