Holding Chloe close, I felt a peace I hadn't known since we stepped into this accursed place. My coiled muscles unwound themselves, though whether from her presence or the intoxicating rush of her bite, I couldn't say. Not that I cared to distinguish - the serenity flooding my veins was too precious to question.
CRACK! BOOM! CRASH!
The air itself screamed as shockwaves rippled outward, kicking up cyclones of dust and shredded petals that swirled like macabre confetti. Through half-lidded eyes, I watched the two titans wage their war, content to let Chloe drink her fill while they turned the garden into a battlefield. Their movements blurred into afterimages, a dizzying display that forced me to funnel willpower into my eyes just to parse the action.
The world slowed. Details emerged from the chaos. Those phantom ripples I'd sensed earlier materialized as writhing shadows - glamour made visible to my enhanced sight. The very air shimmered with their power.
FWOOOOSH!
A fireball unfurled beside Eric like a deadly lotus blossom, only to be quenched by a liquid dome that erupted from his opponent's palm. The collision birthed a prismatic steam cloud that hung for a heartbeat before vanishing - leaving behind a smoldering wasteland where once there had been life.
My barrier hummed reassuringly. This staggered defense was sustainable - reinforcing only when attacks threatened, rather than maintaining a constant drain. A necessary economy, given the storm of power raging around us.
Their combat transcended mere glamour. Fists cratered flesh. Elbows shattered the air. Each impact resonated with a visceral, bone-deep thud that set my teeth on edge. Yet for all its brutality, there was an artistry to their violence - a lethal ballet that made human brawls seem like the flailing of drunken children.
I committed every feint, every pivot to memory. These were lessons no master could teach.
Haaah...
A fingertip grazed my brow. Chloe's. She exhaled like a woman tasting paradise, her rejuvenated form practically glowing with stolen vitality. Even amid the destruction, she outshone everything - a perfected being whose very cells sang with renewed purpose.
"Stop scowling," she murmured, lips quirking. "You'll freeze your face that way."
"My face doesn't freeze," I countered, amusement threading through my words. "It heals faster than time can etch its marks."
Her laughter was sunlight breaking through stormclouds as she slipped from my arms. I watched her stretch - a languid, feline motion - before she sauntered toward our fallen comrades. Kelia had already begun her work, the two men laid out like broken dolls while she perched between them. Nearby, the twins slept bare as newborns, their flawless skin belying the punishment they'd taken.
Their regenerative abilities bordered on obscene.
Lorn had been playing tough earlier, but the ruse collapsed soon after I'd fed Kelia. Now he lay still as death, his body a patchwork of invisible wounds being meticulously rewoven by scarlet threads of Kelia's power. The magic danced from her fingertips, sewing through muscle and marrow with surgeon's precision.
Chloe's eyebrows lifted appreciatively. Even for her, this was impressive.
Kneeling beside the blood sorceress, Chloe jerked her chin toward the patients. "Will they live?"
"Live?" Kelia snorted. "They'll be sparring by dawn. But their spirits are drained to the dregs." She nodded at the twins. "Those two are just sleeping off the healing high. They'll wake starving enough to eat a dragon."
"Good." Chloe's gaze cut toward the ongoing duel. "Then all we need is for Eric to stop playing with his food."
"Your wish, my command, Princess!" Eric's voice carried effortlessly over the din of combat.
He disengaged with preternatural grace, hanging weightless in the air. His hand plunged into nothingness - and pulled forth damnation given form.
"Kingslayer. Attend me."
The spear materialized in a whisper of forgotten screams. Ancient beyond reckoning, its blade glistened with what the uninitiated might mistake for rust. But my enhanced senses caught the truth - the iron-scent of countless dried bloodstains, each flake a testament to fallen royalty.
The Fae guard's face went ashen. A muscle in his jaw spasmed uncontrollably.
"This can't-"
"Be real?" Eric finished, spinning the weapon lazily. "The Royal Armament recognizes its true master, exile or no." A feral grin split his face. "Tell me, how does it feel? Knowing your bravado just signed your death warrant?"
The spear pulsed like a living thing, its hunger stirring.
"My prince, surely we can-"
Light. Pure, annihilating light. The world became a single searing flash that burned shadows into my retinas. When vision returned, Eric stood with his back to the guard, Kingslayer dripping violet ichor.
"Impatient fool," he sighed. "I only needed you alive."
The guard coughed, a torrent of otherworldly blood spraying from his lips - purple and alive with golden runes that flickered like dying fireflies. With each hemorrhage, the light in his fractal-cracked skin dimmed.
Beside me, Chloe clicked her tongue. "Another dead end. What kind of monster inspires such devotion?"
The dying Fae turned his head, lips peeling back in a ghastly smile. "You... you cannot stop what's coming. My master... he'll ascend where gods... and mortals... meet..." His body began dissolving at the edges, pixels of light drifting upward. "This... this is enough... to serve..."
Eric moved faster than thought. Kingslayer became a silver blur.
The guard exploded into a thousand luminous butterflies, their wings shedding iridescent ash as they spiraled into oblivion. The display was breathtaking.
And somehow, it tasted like tragedy.