Origins of the Fates

8: Rune Mockstorm

Rune drags himself forward, his wounded body dragging uselessly behind. Claws rake the ground behind him, gouging thick marks in the stone. Pain tears through his entire body, and Rune bites back a scream. He hears the monster behind him laugh, the sound reminiscent of stone scraping on claws.

Vuthril, a dark demon with a sick mind, stalks toward him with the lethal grace of every predator that has ever existed on this planet. And many others.

Power slithers through his veins, and Rune feels his eyes burning. The power that he feels is darkness brought to life, a primordial force of sheer fucking rage and enormous energy. He blinks, spitting blood onto the ground as he pulls himself forward.

Vuthril laughs once more, claws curling around his arms and yanking him up off the ground. Rune roars, kicking at the demon. It isn't in its normal body, but neither is Rune. He is not going to keep this body, because it's wounded badly, and if he stays in it too long, well....

The "life" of a wraith is not fun.

"Look at you," sneers the demon, inching its muzzle closer to his face. The beast is a humanoid thing, a cross between a crocodile of old and a wolf. The long, slender, black scaled clawed fingers curl around his throat. "You are indeed a dark creature, are you not, Rune?"

Rune tries to scoff. "You demons are all ... all the same."

His blood trickles down his abdomen, but Rune does not give a single shit. The demon laps up the blood, wincing at the red and black ichor. Vuthril lifts his glistening yellow eyes to Rune's.

"You wraiths are not fun," he growls.

"Too fucking bad," growls Rune. He summons all his remaining energy and slashes the demon's hands with the shadow blades he'd called. Hissing, the demon drops him, and Rune collapses after trying to land on his feet. He lashes out at the demon, slashing the beast across the chest.

Vuthril screeches as white bone glistens within his chest cavity, now visible because of Rune's attack. But Rune does not relent. He jumps forward, burying the twin blades into the hole. Green blood spurts from the creature's chest.

"Fuck me," Rune snarls, spitting the horrid and dead-tasting ichor onto the ground. He snarls at the demon as it stumbles back, but the monster then leaps forward, burying its claws into his shoulder. Then, the demon grabs him by the wounded shoulder and throws him into the wall.

"You are dead, Rune," hisses the demon as it shoves its sharp teeth into his other shoulder. Rune screams, feeling the pain of the fangs as well as the venom that seeps into his veins.

A black mist fills the subway tunnel behind the demon, and Rune keeps his focus on the demon. It roars as he jams the only remaining shadow blade into its neck.

The mist solidifies into Calder Mortius, a wraith just like Rune. The huge man with a tan, bald head but long, gray beard and blue eyes that seemingly glow advances on the demon. He raises a burning sword, then drives it into the back of the demon's neck.  A horrid screech fills the tunnels, and Rune is dropped onto the gory and bloody concrete.

Vuthril wheels around to Calder, but the wraith laughs as he drives the blade straight into the hole in the thing's chest. Calder watches, staring into the eyes of Vuthril as he turns to ash.

Calder steps back once Vuthril's ashes fade.

"Ach, fuck. Ya think that it'd be a good idea for ya to actually call in backup, Rune? You're gonna die soon if ya don't actually do what you're told."

"This body is worthless, regardless," Rune grumbles, scoffing. "I need a new one."

"One like mine, I bet?" Calder asks.

Rune tries to shrug, but his ruined body is in too much of a rough shape to do so. He sighs and digs into his ruined trench coat pocket. He pulls free his lighter and a cigarette, then looks up as Calder crouches beside him.

"You know, if you return to Ilyntalos, no one'd bat an eye..."

"Doubt that, Cal," says Rune as he lights his cigarette. He pops it in his mouth and sighs.

"Don't call me Cal. It ain't somethin' I prefer," he says.

Rune chuckles despite the pain, he feels the body he is in is actually dying now. He groans and flops his head back against the tiles of the wall. Rune looks at Calder, who begins to pace.

"I'll get ya a special body, but I cannot promise that it'll be great in the meantime. But ach, well, I hope ya need it fast. Borias said that he's got a lot of good ones in storage."

Rune snorts. Casimir Borias is a fae, but he's not the best fae. Most would refer to him as an evil bastard, a criminal. But he is a necessity for the wraiths. Especially for Rune, who goes through bodies far faster than most. That is usually because of his job. He is a demon hunter, as well as many other things. But whatever.

Calder kneels in front of Rune, then opens a corked vial. Rune looks at him. He feels his soul churning within his broken body, then nods at Calder. "Thanks."

Then, he fades into the vial.