The Healer ✔

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elora screamed, the pain in her abdomen forgotten. Nyal was dead, bleeding out on the stones of a courtyard so far from his home. She had been powerless to stop it, weak from years of not having to fight.

Giazma stood over the Healer's limp body, a rumble of laughter coming from his throat. He poked at the body, watching it roll over lifelessly. He looked back at her and she could see the pride in his eyes. "I told you I would kill him, Elora," he growled. "You should have taken me seriously."

Nyal was dead. Their one chance was gone. Veridun was gone. Maheem and Planina would fall. Nyal was dead.

She stood, tears falling freely down her face and gathered her magic in one last attempt at showing Gaizma just who he was fighting. Nyal was dead, Gaizma had killed him. Gaizma would face her wrath. She would kill him.

Gaizma roared with laughter, turning to face her. "Look at you, so angry," he said. "I don't think I've seen you look like that since I've come out of the Gate. Come on, demigod, kill me."

She screamed and rushed forward, tendrils of darkness shooting out towards him. He snarled, swiping out at her with his tail. She spread her wings and launched herself into the air. Darkness rained down on the dragon, making him cry out in pain. There was blood seeping from small wounds all along his body. If she targeted those, she could kill him.

She felt power rush inside of her, more than she had felt in years. With a grunt she pushed that power out, aiming it all at the dragon. He had killed Nyal. The more she thought the words the angrier she got, the stronger she got. She was going to kill him, rip him limb from limb and throw him from the mountain.

Her bombardment wasn't just striking Gaizma, but every Zlohiel in the vicinity. A cacophony of screams reached her ears, wails of wendigos, cries of vampires as they were impaled and eviscerated.

Her own scream joined them as the power continued to flow within her, more power than she had ever felt in her life. She channelled it, channelled her anger and aimed it at the Zlohiel standing down below.

She could see Gaizma lying among the stones and blood, body jolting with each hit, but he still stared up at her, eyes full of amusement. She would wipe that joy from his face. "So angry!" he screamed at her, laughing as she struck him. "Who knew killing one little warlock could affect you so, Elora!"

At his words, the power within her only grew, spreading out past just Maheem and into the mountains. The Zlohiel still making their way into the falling city were struck down with screams of agony, writhing on the ground. But it wasn't enough, Gaizma still wasn't dead, the Zlohiel were still coming, still taking over the realm.

She opened herself up to the power, knowing that whatever she did wasn't going to be enough, but it might just save the tiny remains of the kingdom in the mountains. The magic flowed from her hands, striking the dragons that threatened to kill Ragen and Mikhail, eviscerating the wendigos and vampires as they reached the stronghold the citizens were hidden in. Her darkness crawled into caves and down trails, killing anything it touched, but it still wasn't enough.

Elora.

The voice ricocheted around her mind as her fathers did, but it was not Yararanje. She ignored it, closing her eyes and letting out another scream as more power flooded her body.

Elora, please. Let me help.

She opened her eyes with a gasp. Nyal stood in the air before her, concern covering his youthful face. If she looked close enough, she could see the buildings of Maheem through his body. His spirit.

Nyal reached out of her. Please, he said, mouth making no movements but his voice still clear as day in her mind. His palm touched her face, but she could barely feel it, like a cool breeze. I can help. This is our chance.