Rise and Fall- Fight of Faith

Slaughter

It took seemingly eternities to find the exit. It fact, they only found it at all because Valarina slipped on her injured ankle and fell forward, smashing her nose into the door handle.
"I feel as though I've asked if you're alright entirely too many times today," Grainger remarked, fumbling through the blackness to Valarina's side. She rolled her eyes, then winced, feeling blood drip from her nose.
"Nice to know you're concerned," she muttered, getting to her feet. Grainger gave a low laugh, but it was too bright, too strained to be anywhere close to real. He reached out and grasped the handle, using telekinesis to reach into the lock and flip it open. He hesitated just a second before jerking open the door, Valarina only just jumping out of the way. Light flooded into the room, momentarily blinding them. When they had blinked the shock out of their eyes, they stepped into the hallway, which was remarkably void of any living being.
Or not. Thundering footsteps came down the hall, a mass of Accords appearing from either end of the corrider. "And of course it couldn't be easy," Grainger muttered bitterly. All he wanted was to find Sofia and Malice and leave Genosis behind.
"Did you really think you could escape?" One of the rebels scoffed. Valarina and Grainger stayed silent. Perhaps it had been a futile effort. "And what was your plan, anyway? You don't know where you are. You don't know where your friends are. Which is just as well, I suppose. Not as though it would make any difference."
Grainger's throat tightened in panic, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird against his ribs. "What do you mean?"
"Well, not even you can bring back the dead, can you?"
Grainger didn't hear his own anguished cry, didn't feel his heart splinter in two, didn't even know that he had fallen to the floor. It all happened in a jolt - he was a huddled mess on the floor, and then a wave of dark washed over his hunched form. A shadow of pure, unadulterated blackness rose from the ground slowly, a single smoky hand raising high into the air. Valarina and the soldiers stood in astonished, terrified silence.
Something clicked in her instincts, and she dropped down to the floor half a second before Grainger's hand fell, and an explosion of ice sent swirling trendils both ways down the hallway, encircling and freezing the Accords. Some ran, or dropped like Valarina, but they were not saved. Grainger, or the shadow he had turned into, swept his hand through the air, fire washing through the corrider, reducing the frozen Accords to puddles and the rest to ash.
And just like that, it was over.
The shadow collapsed, black slowly draining away to reveal Grainger's features. Valarina remained on the floor, stunned beyond speech.
Had Grainger truly given in to the dark side?
Had she really just witnessed her own cousin slaughter masses of people in one fell swoop?
And the question most prominent in her mind: why hadn't it taken longer? How could such a coldhearted crime have been committed in the time span of just a few seconds? Had the rebels realized their lives were ending? Had Grainger even realized what he was doing?
A dry sob broke the silence. Her eyes jerked to Grainger, sat curled against the wall, shaking.
"Sofia..." he whispered, grief drowning his voice. A wave of irrational anger washed over Valarina.
"Sofia?" She snapped, climbing to her feet. "Really? You're sobbing about Sofia, instead of the dozens of men and women you just heartlessly slaughtered over a comment that might have been a lie? God, Grainger, what kind of person are you?"
Grainger's sobs had frozen. "A... lie? She could be alive?" His head darted up, eyes staring into her own. Valarina was about to yell some more, but the words froze in her throat, because Grainger's eyes were a deep, dark black.