43. Chapter Forty Three #2
I knelt beside Felix, placing a hand on his arm. “Thank you,” I whispered, my gratitude immeasurable. His breathing was shallow but steady, and I knew he just needed rest. Fen scooped the tiny man over her shoulder, and we continued upward.
We continued our climb, the sounds of chaos growing louder with each step.
Every room we entered was a war zone, the clash of steel against claw, the cries of the wounded, and the guttural roars of Vyrmin echoing off the stone walls.
Freed Riftborn surged forward, their desperation and fury driving them against their grotesque captors.
A hulking Riftborn warrior, his skin a mottled blend of bronze and emerald, reminiscent of his draconic ancestry, wielded a stolen sword.
He cleaved through a Vyrmin, its twisted form splintering under his sheer force.
Beside him, a slender Riftborn woman with translucent, opalescent skin and glowing lavender eyes hurled bolts of energy from her hands, her magic cutting down beasts that tried to flank their group.
Nearby, a stocky Riftborn with fiery orange skin and sharp, obsidian-black horns stood firm, his enormous fists crashing against a Vyrmin’s chest. The creature, a patchwork of Riftborn and beast, fell with a gurgling snarl.
His fists sparked as he struck, remnants of his molten abilities scorching his enemies.
Behind him, a younger Riftborn with pale, shimmering skin and silvery hair darted between combatants, her daggers flashing like quicksilver as she struck vital points with precision.
Drake’s eyes scanned the scene, his pride swelling despite the urgency of their mission. These were his people—brave, resilient, and unyielding. But the sight of fallen Riftborn tempered his pride with sorrow.
A young woman with scales like sapphires lay crumpled near the base of a staircase, her bow still clutched in her hand, her quiver emptied in the fight. Nearby, a Riftborn man with bark-like skin and glowing green veins lay motionless; his staff shattered beside him.
I gasped softly as we passed another fallen fighter, her golden-green hair fanned out around her, a jagged spear protruding from her chest. Drake placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip firm and steady. He looked at me with sympathetic eyes.
“These are the risks of war,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “We honor them by finishing this.”
Despite the Riftborn’s bravery, the toll of the battle was evident. Bodies, both Riftborn and Vyrmin, littered the floors, and the air was thick with the stench of blood and sweat. Each step upward felt heavier, the weight of their losses pressing down on us all.
When we finally reached the top, a vast hall sprawled before us.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat.
Ahead, the faint glow of the Vessel’s energy seeped through the cracks of a heavy door, bathing the corridor in a sickly, pulsating light.
It felt alive, a malignant heartbeat echoing through the stones.
Drake paused beside me, his hand brushing mine briefly, a silent reassurance.
I crossed and pushed the door open carefully, the hinges groaning in protest. The room beyond was precisely as it had been in my visions.
The air was heavy with dark magic, an almost suffocating presence that seeped into every crevice.
The Vessel of Azh’raim dominated the space, its shining serpentine frame gleaming faintly in the dim, flickering light of the torches.
Its surface rippled unnaturally, reflecting shadows that didn’t align with the room’s contours. It was far more daunting in person.
The study was eerily quiet. The faint crackle of torches mounted on the walls offered the only sound, their flames casting twisting, living shadows that seemed to shift and writhe across the stone. The air itself buzzed with malevolent energy, prickling against my skin like a warning.
The Vessel stood at the room’s center, glowing faintly like the eye of a storm. Its presence exuded an almost tangible malice, a dark authority that sent a shiver down my spine.
Fen and Avod positioned themselves near the door, their movements precise and measured.
Fen’s daggers floated just above her hands, poised to strike.
The gems caught the torchlight and refracted it, casting sharp, fleeting rainbows against the dark walls.
Her expression was sharp, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.
Avod stood beside her, his frame taut with readiness.
His fingers clenched around the hilt of his sword, the tension in his grip visible in the whitening of his knuckles.
His eyes darted to every shadow as though expecting Vyper to emerge from the darkness.
“This thing…” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper as my fingers brushed the Vessel’s frame. The cold metal felt alive under my touch, like the scales of a living beast.
Its surface rippled unnaturally, reflecting a warped, twisted version of myself. My breath hitched. “It’s watching us.”
Drake growled, the low, guttural sound rumbling deep in his chest. His vision was locked on the Vessel, his disdain for it burning brighter than the torchlight. “Then we destroy it. Now.”
I nodded, my heart hammering in my chest as urgency surged through me. My mind scrambled to recall Ness’s lessons. “We can’t just smash it. If it’s still connected to Vyper, it’ll reform. We need to sever their connection first.”
“Then work fast, find a spell or something!” Fen said sharply, her daggers slicing through the air in restless arcs, their edges gleaming like deadly stars.
I moved toward the desk nearest the Vessel, my trembling hands flipping open a few ancient tomes resting there.
The pages crackled like brittle leaves, each one covered in spidery runes and faded diagrams. My fingers skimmed the text as I muttered under my breath, searching for anything that might sever the mirror’s link to its dark master.
Behind me, the others shifted uneasily, their weapons ready, their eyes scanning the room.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, and a chill slid down my spine. Something wasn’t right. I glanced at Drake, who had gone still, his eyes narrowing, his head tilting as if listening for something in the silence. He knew I sensed something.
“He’s coming.” I said quietly.
And then I heard it. The soft footfalls against stone, deliberate and slow, sending icy tendrils creeping through my veins.
“Ah, my guests,” came a voice as smooth as silk and as sharp as a blade. It was melodic in its malice, cutting through the tension like a knife.
My breath caught in my throat as we all turned toward the doorway.
There he stood. Vyper. His pale, corpse-like skin gleamed under the flickering torchlight. His black eyes, like two endless voids, locked onto mine, and a cruel smile stretched his thin lips. My stomach twisted.
“You’re a long way from the dungeon,” he purred, his voice dripping with mockery.
The taunt was aimed directly at me, and I felt my body stiffen under his gaze.
Behind him, grotesque figures began to emerge—his henchmen, their twisted, unnatural forms lurching forward.
Their glowing red eyes burned with malevolence, and the low, guttural growls that escaped their mouths sounded like death itself.
They blocked the doorway, cutting off our only escape.
“Fen, Avod, take the Vyrmin!” Drake barked, his voice steady despite the chaos. He stepped in front of me, his body a shield between me and danger. “Felix, protect her!”
Felix immediately produced a ward, its faint glow forming a barrier of safety around me. He glanced at me, his face exhausted but resolute.
Vyper’s eyes flicked to Drake, and his smile widened. “You? Haven’t I already defeated you once?” he sneered, his words laced with venom. “I remember the smell of your blood.”
Drake growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through the chamber. His claws flexed at his sides, and his entire body coiled like a spring ready to snap.
The Vyrmin charged, their grotesque forms lunging into the room with terrifying speed.
Fen touched her fingertips to her temples, and her daggers spun through the air like deadly stars, slicing through one beast after another.
Avod let out a war cry, his hammer smashing through twisted flesh with brutal efficiency.
The sound of clashing steel and inhuman snarls filled the chamber.
Vyper raised a hand, and the air thickened, oppressive magic pulsing through the room. The torches flickered violently, their light casting erratic shadows across the walls.
“You can’t win,” Vyper said, his tone casual but filled with a terrible certainty. “You should have stayed in your little hiding hole.”
Drake didn’t respond with words. Instead, his growl deepened, becoming something primal, something ancient.
His entire body seemed to radiate heat as his muscles bulged and his shoulders broadened.
Scales shimmered across his skin, catching the torchlight and reflecting it in hues of crimson and silver.
I could only stare as his body began to shift, his transformation tearing through the room like a storm.
Massive wings burst from his back, leathery and powerful, nearly brushing the ceiling.
His limbs elongated, his hands morphing into claws that gleamed like steel.
His face twisted, his jaw extending into a fearsome maw filled with razor-sharp fangs.
He was enormous now, towering over everyone in the room, his presence both awe-inspiring and terrifying.
What. The. Fuck.
“Drake?” I whispered, my voice trembling with a mix of emotions. Awe, fear, and something else—something primal and electric—coursed through me. He was magnificent, every inch the beast he had suppressed for so long, and yet, I knew it was still him—still the man I loved.