Beyond the Rabbit Hole

The Worst Possible Outcome

Beaten and bloodied, Morgyn slowly rose to his feet, gripping his abdomen with one hand and holding his sword with the other. He eyed the dreadknight warily and steadied his breath.

Remiel spun his flail as he approached.

What do I do? Do I go for it now, or see if I can gather more power first? How am I even getting more power in the first place? Am I just hallucinating it? Maybe this is just adrenaline. Even if I could release this power all at once, how would I do it? I've never done anything like this before. Morgyn winced as his teeth clamped harder on his lower lip. I've never felt like this before. . .

But the dreadknight did not give him pause. Remiel dashed forward, closing the distance instantly, and bringing the flail down on Morgyn's head.

In a panic, Morgyn raised his sword at an angle to catch both chains and placed the flat of his dagger's blade against it, so both weapons supported each other as the attack landed. An immense force connected with the sword and sent Morgyn back to his knees. He felt the wind launch from his chest, and all the muscles in his arms began to burn. But something surged in response—a power much greater than what he'd felt so far. It surged through his veins like lightning and coiled around his arms.

The flail retreated and began spinning again, preparing for another strike.

Morgyn cried out in a cacophony of pain and anger, as the force threatened to twist his back until it broke. But in this moment, he saw a chance that could not go untaken. He rallied every fiber in his muscles, every ounce of his spirit, and every drop of power flowing through his body. He rose one foot back up to the ground and stood—no, launched himself, twisting his body back to face his opponent, and with all the force he could muster, swung his blade at the dreadknight's throat.

Pure desperation guided that blade as it connected with the edge of Remiel's helmet, just above his neck, and exploded from the sheer force driving it, sending scraps of metal flying in all directions.

The assault came out too quickly, and Remiel failed to defend in time.

The force launched Remiel several inches into the air and backward, the dreadknight's feet struggling to catch him as he stumbled backward. Blood jettisoned from his neck as he reached for his throat, falling backward, and his helmet was sent flying into the darkness.

Morgyn fell back to his knees, his breath coming out shallow and heavy. His arms and legs trembled. He could barely stand, and all the power he felt surging within him disappeared as if it were never there at all. He eyed the dreadknight's motionless body through his blurred gaze. He blinked several times, his consciousness nearly fading. As his gaze focused and the blood sprayed across the fetid earth became clearer to see, he heaved a sigh of relief. I need to get up. . . I can't stop now. I need to reach Alyss, but. . . why do I feel so weak? I felt so strong before. I was finally strong. So why? Why is it gone? Why am I weak again? With his body nearly collapsing from exhaustion, Morgyn shook the fatigue from his head sharply. Now's not the time. I need to stand up. I need to go. He could barely feel his arms, and his legs shook with every pound of weight he put on them, yet through gritted teeth, he forced himself to his feet, his breath shaky and erratic. He examined the sword hilt in his hand. What remained of its once-pristine blade lay scattered among the pools of blood. He tossed the broken weapon aside, closed his eyes, and focused. Alyss. . . is this way.

"Now wait just one moment, Morgyn. Where do you think you're going?"

Morgyn's eyes widened. His heart stood still. His sweat cooled. His face stiffened, and all the blood in his body came to a halt while pure dread twisted his face. He slowly turned to face the devilishly familiar voice, and what confronted him was the worst scenario imaginable.