Those Who Would Not Be Gods

28. Return: Raff

Heat tore past Raff's face, hot enough to singe his hair. He opened his eyes and saw nothing but white light. Light? No. Fire. Fire raged under him. Anima was nowhere to be seen.

I'm alive. I didn't get stabbed.

He barely had time to register that before he fell. Without Anima, the shadows were no longer holding him up. Raff flailed, remembered his magic, then thrust his hand out desperately. Stop, stop, stop burning! The blast of fire spluttered, then leaped back up to full strength. It's someone else's magic. Stronger magic than his. He couldn't stop it.

He was so close. Wasted too much time. The fire was licking at his skin, already hot. So much fire. It could only be one person. It had to be. "Cecile!" he shouted.

The blast petered out. He plopped to the ground on all fours. The earth around him was hot, blackened from the flame and winking with embers; he jumped back to his feet before they could do worse than singe. Cecile ran over to him. "Where did you come from?" she gasped, exasperated more than anything.

"I..." he gestured weakly. How could he explain everything that had happened? Sab, and Tenebrae, and the cells...

Cecile yanked him by the collar. For a heart-stopping moment, their faces were close, her eyes huge, pools to drown in. What—she can't be—

Shadow sliced through his shoulder, barely missing his neck by an inch. He shouted, startled, and whirled. Anima wasn't down yet?

The green cloak was ash-grey and smoking badly. The mask was blackened with soot. Every inch of exposed skin was reddened, some of it even sloughing off, skin and fat peeling off his fingers and dripping at his feet. Bone peeped through the ruined appendages. Raff had to fight the urge to gag at the sight, but Anima barely seemed to notice. He gestured, making a shape more complex than half-melted fingers should be able to. Shadow lanced out at them in long spider-leg tendrils. From above, below, every direction, the sharp-tipped tendrils closed in around them.

"Raff, get back!" Cecile demanded. Fire danced around her head, draped over her shoulders, sparked around her fingers. She was a being of flame, anointed by it. A wall of fire sprung up between her and Anima. It didn't look hot enough or tall enough, but every shadow that passed over it disintegrated. Anima grunted with displeasure and backed away. He didn't go far; only far enough to stalk slowly around the edge of the wall in search of a new angle of attack.

Raff backed away, but slowly. "Are you alright? You looked hurt!"

She huffed dismissively. "I'm fine." She danced forward, leaving burning footsteps where the ground hadn't already been blackened.

Raff had to admit, she looked fine. It was hard to gauge the baseline for her when she was so much stronger than him, but she was holding off Anima perfectly fine now. Whatever he'd done to her earlier, it didn't seem to be working anymore.

"Stop staring at the High Priestess and come help!" Giada shouted. He turned toward her voice and found her to the left of him. Her sword was a blur of metal, sparking with lightning, and then a ghoul's head fell to the floor, while the two behind it seized, caught in a blast of her lightning.

Raff blinked and shook his head. Right! Ghouls! Cecile had Anima. He should fight elsewhere. All around them, Shrineguards were fighting, faces he recognized and ones he didn't. Even Pasquale was doing his best against a small contingent of ghouls, cornering them with the help of Alessa and Alessi. Behind the Shrineguards, a scared group of townsfolk and nobles huddled, bunkered down at the back of the room by the doors. Why don't they leave? he wondered, then immediately remembered the mob outside. They couldn't.