Burning Road

Hell's Fury- Part XI

The air swelled with a song of exalted triumph and majesty. A gaping void hung over The Cauldron's crater. Like a hungry maw, it swallowed the darkness in the air in a raucous vacuum. Every few seconds a wave of warm air would radiate from the hole in the sky only to be sucked back in. The void breathed.

A change was taking hold, but Ragdhyl could not put it into words. Whatever was happening they were standing directly beneath it.

Warden Schmerz retreated, Anastasia's familiars in tow. Wounded and outnumbered, his bravery was toppled like the dead demon prince. He pledged to return and recapture his prisoners even as he ran away.

Cyril hastily worked to restitch Vhalova's wound. Muggle and Ingrid did their best to bandage Loc, who'd somehow survived a savage beating from the countess. The strange dwarf simply sat quietly staring up at the void. Golan lumbered about, half eaten, and mostly blind. Chewed green flesh and organs slowly regenerated as only a troll could manage.

Ragdhyl held Mimi in his lap and wept.  Prince was beside him, wrapped in a purring fur blanket. The ache in Rag's chest was deeper than his bones, crushing his soul. He hadn't felt so broken in five hundred cycles, not since he was exiled from the tribe by his father. The hole created by that day remained unfilled until Rag stole away with the cursed baby left to die of exposure on the outskirts of his people's land.

Mimi made him whole again and gave him purpose at a time when he needed it most. Holding her limp body, her head hanging at an odd angle made every breath agony. Ragdhyl looked over at Vhal, the child they'd raised together, and the tears came faster. The horns continued to blow, filling the air with music too beautiful for The Dark's ugly, but, for Rag, the world had stopped.

Vhal pushed Cyril away and walked over, her every step making Rag's chest tighter and tighter. Vhal looked down at Mimi and smiled.

"That darkling bitch knock her out?" she asked. "Wake her up before that srgalah comes back. Mimi, get up."  Vhal nudged Miminda's body with her foot. When Mimi didn't move Vhalova pushed harder. "Mimi?"

"She's dead, Little Dove," Ragdhyl whispered, his voice cracking with each word.

Vhal stared into his eyes for a long time before finally hanging her head and dropping to her knees. She ran her fingers through Mimi's charcoal and violet hair... the way she did when she was little. Vhal took a shuddering breath and a single tear spilled from the corner of her eye.

Prince awakened with a start, speaking in a strange tongue. He fumbled about, clearly unable to see. His hand found Mimi's and he started talking more frantically. Vhal sneered and pulled on Mimi's other hand. Rag understood. Mimi was theirs and nobody else's. But that wasn't entirely true. Ragdhyl looked around. Their family has gotten bigger since the last time they were in The Dust Ball.

He placed his little hand over Vhal's and eased her grip. She glared at the binder for a moment, but relented. She closed her eyes and rested her hand on their goblin girl. Prince stopped trying to get a response and did the same.

"Is there nothing you can do?" Cyril asked.

The old creeper crouched beside them, his expression grave. The dwarves kept a respectful distance.

"I can mend her bones and patch her wounds," Ragdhyl explained, "but I know of no script that can restore life."

"I've heard of many a thing the Fae Regalia can do... do you know nothing of their advanced craft."

"No, I don't!" Ragdhyl snapped.

The Regalia was a mysterious group of Sprite Scriptor's said to have created the craft. It was said no creeper outside of their inner circle could ever truly call themselves masters.