Fear Among The Shadows

Chapter XXII - Invulnerable

"Not if I can help it!"

That voice. Oh, my dear reader, that voice that could freeze entire oceans, and now froze everyone in the room as they watched. Watched in horror as Jonathan's hand holding the vial was encased in shadows.

No, he thought, NO! Jonathan tried to bring it to his lips, to drink the Elixir. All he needed was one sip, just one, and this would all be over, right there at that moment. But, alas, he could only watch, his hand frozen halfway to his mouth, as the Mistress of Shadows sauntered up the steps towards them.

She was still dressed in her impeccable silk gown, but this time, there was no hat on her head to hide the empty voids of her eyes. Letitia quickly slashed her bonds on one of the fallen guard's spears - she would not be bound facing her. Cecelia spared her only one glance, but it was packed with enough disgust and unbending hatred that sent a clear message; I will destroy you. Adilah knew she should turn at that voice, look at her face, stare into the eyes of the monster who killed Eric. Yet, her eyes remained firmly fixed on the ashes. She had endured enough pain today.

Davian pushed past Eddie and Joah, and stood firmly before Cecelia,

"This doesn't concern you."

She let out a loud laugh, "Did you think you could go around my lands without me noticing? Or call a truce without me finding out? You're both more stupid than I remember. Also, it doesn't look like your truce is holding up. Maybe you should just give me the vial so you two don't have to fight amongst yourselves."

"You don't even know what it is!" hissed Jonathan.

"Doesn't matter! You both want it so badly, so I'll take it!"

"Like hell you will!"

Davian lunged across the steps, swinging his sword down in a wide deadly arc. Cecelia quickly unsheathed her daggers and blocked the swing, holding the blade back with all her strength. Her focus wavered and the shadows on Jonathan's hand loosened their grip. That wasn't a victory yet, though, as Davian left Cecelia and made to slash at Jonathan's hand. Jonathan jumped back at the last second, switched the vial to his left hand and unsheathed his own sword. They would have to pry the bottle from his cold, dead grip.

The others watched as the three entangled in an epic dance, slashing at one another with their blades, barely dodging, and inflicting only the most minor cuts. Cecelia tried her hardest to bring the shadows to her aid, but she had never been one for combat and so it took all her concentration not to get skewered by the others. The shadows in every corner of the room twitched and squirmed, wanting to break out of their hold to their mistress's aid, but they were trapped.

Jonathan held so tight to the vial in his hand, his knuckles had turned white. He kept reaching, spreading fear and terror out into the other's minds, but they were prepared for his attacks. Their minds fought his invasion and so he could not go in any deeper, only establish a generic frightened feeling.

And Davian. Oh, Davian. He was not going to give them a chance to use their powers. He slashed and swung and stabbed, his sword becoming an arc of pure strength. This was no magic, not the touch of anything supernatural; this was unbridled skill. Still, it took everything in him to keep them both at bay.

Now, could you see, my dear reader? Could you understand? It was impossible – impossible – for three people so equal in power, so similar in strength, to accept each other's rule. It may not have been said out loud, but the strongest had to be decided. And so, they warred.

They pushed on. Feverishly, Jonathan tried to climb up the broken tower, over the debris, but the others pressed him still. Eddie and Joah quickly scrambled out of the way and made their way down a couple of steps and pressed against the wall to avoid a stray swing of the sword. Eddie, Joah, Letitia and Adilah all stood there, not knowing what to do. They stayed clear, each of them standing at one part of the crumbling tower. It was all they could do to escape the whirlwind of blades and fear and darkness and some deep suppressed rage that seemed to be underlying all that violence. There was almost an air of understanding, of warning – this was not their fight.