Endless

The Reaper and the Traitor | Aleria

In 1898, I was back in France, and the whole time I kept a subconscious eye out for Luc. Paris was his assignment, but if he was here, I saw no sign of it.

My group of protectors never bumped into his, which was pretty rare given how strong our targets were. Fact was, he'd been avoiding me since the day I told him I was in love with someone else. Of course, he'd never made the leap to thinking of Niko as my beloved, but he resented me nonetheless. I wished he didn't. I missed him, missed our moments of being able to talk about everything and nothing.

But I couldn't worry about that now. We were on patrol, me and my group. We rested against the Opéra Garnier's dome, throwing our senses out wide, searching for any griffon close to our wards. I didn't believe in hunting them. Only in defending our people. Some protectors differed from me and burned for the griffons' destruction, but I made sure to keep those types out of my group. Couldn't be at odds with my companions the whole time.

Tonight was eerily quiet. As if the griffs had left the city. I shivered, glancing at the protectors at my sides. All of them wore unsettled frowns. I wasn't the only one feeling as if something was wrong.

Griffons almost never left a place unless they went rogue, were ordered to move, or were summoned into a pack. Since both the former scenarios were unlikely, the latter stood out as the most plausible explanation. A pack of griffs was never a pleasure to deal with.

"We need to find them right now," I said, trying to veil my unease in steady tones.

"And our other group," someone said to my left.

True. The more protectors we had, the more powerful we were.

"Fire up," I ordered and closed my eyes, drawing in the flames from the nearby gaslights.

The others followed my example, taking in fire wherever they found it. The air around us went dark, and blackness circled out from our location as we drew in more and more power. The advantage to this was two-fold; the griffons couldn't spot us in the darkness, but with fire glowing inside of us, we'd be able to see them.

I was the first one to find a sign that something was seriously wrong. A single flame, flickering as if someone tried to draw its power but failed. It was in Montmartre. I burst into a run, knowing the others would follow. The light might have been nothing—gaslights weren't always reliable—but something told me to get to that light and fast.

We found Montmartre in darkness and the first corpse on the steps of the Sacré-Cœur. He was a protector. A new one I didn't really know.

All of his powers were drained.

One of my party cried out the outrage we all felt, but I hushed him, instead focusing on finding the rest of the fallen protector's group. Now that we were closer, we should have found them with ease. Instead, I only sensed one protector in a sea of griffons. Luc.

With a pained cry, I ran forward, drawing in as much power as I could muster, pulling from and giving to my own group. The bastards had drained about six other protectors of life, so they'd be even more powerful than before. They had to be powerful in themselves, to be able to attack a group of protectors with impunity.

I couldn't allow myself to care. Not when we needed to save Luc. Besides, those other six protectors couldn't be saved. We could no longer sense them. There was too little life left to salvage.

We found him in a small square, weakened by the numerous draws on his power. My chest clenched with panic and I lit up, killing the first griffon I found. There were about twenty of them and the power they exuded was staggering.

We knew we could die tonight. Still, we fought. For our drained comrades and for the one who'd managed to stay standing. We punched and kicked and lit them ablaze, but the griffs were too many. Their draws overcame our every attempt at gaining power.

A small church off to the side kept catching my attention. There, in the deep, shadowed doorway stood two griffs. Their power was unrivaled. I could feel them buffeting against my defenses and those of my group, not really trying to force their way in but making us aware of their presence. Their power made the air about us crackle. If they started killing, there would be no defense.

Recognition clenched around my heart.

"Aleria!" Luc groaned, staggering towards me. "Run."

I looked into his eyes for the briefest of moments, wanting to tell him I'd never leave without him, but then he dropped like stone, his life snuffed out in an instant.

Seeing him fall cut out the last remains of my heart. I screamed in pain as his loss consumed my soul.

"Fuck!" one of the men in my group shouted. "The Reaper's come!" And with a soft groan he was gone.

My blood went ice-cold.

"Fall back!" I shouted. I had to get my group away before the Reaper killed them all. One-on-one I could take him, but he wasn't alone, and he'd use that to his deadly advantage.

"Fall back where?" one of my protectors shouted, right before she was cut down.

Gasping for breath, I did a quick turnaround, looking for a gap in the circle of griffons around us. There wasn't one.

We were as good as dead. There was nothing to do but try and pull my broken soul back together and fight my way out. Exhaustion crept up my body, making it ache while the griffons continued to draw out my energy.

I felt out the weakest spot in their trap and went for it, killing as many of them as possible, as fast as possible. Every moment passed with a weakening of my power. My group's lives went out one by one. The Reaper was worked with ruthless ease, almost lazily as if killing for power bored him.

And I...I was failing my people.

Finally, I bashed open a hole in the griffon trap, but when I turned back to call my group, they were all gone. Every single one was hollowed out, their faces contorted in fear and pain. No! Releasing a raw scream, I went for the Reaper. The griffons grabbed me, drawing out the last of my fire. My knees buckled as I sobbed.

"Stop," the Reaper ordered and stepped out of the shadows. The dark-haired monster from my nightmares. Ryan. His green eyes gleamed with hunger. "She's ours."

No one argued with him. They didn't dare.

His companion in death came to stand next to him. It was Nikolai, wearing an expression of pure hatred.

This memory always makes me so sad. What did you think of it? Do let me know in the comments. And please don't forget to vote if you enjoyed reading this section!