The Shadress (MCD x Reader)

Ch. 32- Permanent Solution

Enjoy this long one <3
And thank you all for your patience! :)

My words upset the man beyond the gate. He's aware as much as I that my death would mean the death of whatever is in the pendant, which I grip protectively at the thought. The movement draws his eyes from my shadows to the heavyset necklace hidden by my hand.

"You've stolen it," he notes, words almost a second thought.

Jace makes a confused noise, but I can't look away from the High Priest.

"Should you return it, we can forget the whole thing." Zane shrugs like it's no big deal. He shrugs like it wouldn't still affect me, no matter the distance, like I wouldn't chase him to the ends of the cosmos to get it back.

His carelessness annoys me. "You can take it once the sun and moon collide." An impossibility.

"What are you talking about?" Jace sounds frustrated, but I can't afford to care right now.

Zane's eyes shift to Jace with manic excitement. "They don't know...?" His gaze snaps back.

Without thinking, I step closer: the sign for the gate to be raised. "Don't." My voice is low.

With a large clunk, the mechanism whirs to life, and the gate begins to rise. Jace tries to pull me back, but I step forward again, twisting to be out of his reach. "I wonder what they think we're fighting over."

"I said don't," I warn again. Instinctually, I drop the amulet, letting the cold, oozing sensation of my materializing sword fill the space instead. My left hand remains grasped around the small orb. "I won't say it again."

My actions spur his people into action. The Divine Warriors barking orders once more. Jace turns away, the sound of his own weapon drawing. I faintly catch his 'oh, shit' as he hurries off to deal with advancing foot soldiers. Interestingly, the Divine Warriors themselves stay back. I'm sure the others have joined Jace in the defense, but I'm more preoccupied with the leader in front of me.

The same leader who takes cautious – dare I hope to say fearful – steps backwards and away from me.

I advance further to keep him within reach.

"You lecture me about my methods of deception, yet you haven't even told your companions the cause of this conflict you've dragged them into." His words are teasing, a harsh grate on my ears.

Except before I can even offer a reply, and before he says anything else, a figure from behind him lunges forward. Reflexively, I press my sword back against the encroaching weapon, blocking the strike and pushing me into a protective stance.

For a few echoing moments, the clanging of metal against metal reverberates in the space between myself and the woman who stepped in front of the High Priest. Salem looks at me with an "almost dead" appearance– soulless.

She keeps pressing forward, our swords sliding from the lock they've fallen into. I jump back, crossing my arm with the orb behind my back. To keep balance, she springs a giant step forward, resulting in her rapidly boxing me in.

I take the moment to strike instead, swinging my sword forward with the hope of slashing or scratching my opponent. She parries, but I keep swinging.

Our movements fall into an almost standard, training-esque pattern. It's less regimented and clearly a real fight, but we've sparred with each other so much that it's no wonder we fall into the rhythm outside of actual training. Except, unlike the memories I'm comparing this moment to, Salem remains dead silent, a tightly drawn frown and pinched glare all that's offered to me.