26. What’s hidden in the shadows may never see light #2
Standing, a red glow surrounds me, transforming my clothes into something more suitable for the occasion. Battle gear. Thanks, Alex . Tough, dark, sable leather covers my left arm, traveling up and around my neck while scrunching beneath my chin, and continuing down my other arm.
The back extends to a hood over my head with a cloak enveloping my right shoulder, flowing down.
A contoured leather, ruby corset houses my breasts with thin pieces of black metal cuffing beneath them.
Embroidered patterns trace into the waistband of my ebony tights, and calf-high boots complete the set.
An outfit I can die in and just might…But he is first.
Ethan follows, donning his battle gear, the same from when Alex called him to battle last time. “Come, little Nova, let’s see how destructive you can be.”
With my daggers clenched tight, I charge him. With pleasure.
On a blade of grass, the last strand of my hair catches, and fury explodes out of me. It’s not hard thinking of what to create. He makes this decision tastefully easy, and for the first time, I plan on shattering the limits of what my mind believes it can create.
Six daggers made of crimson light arch over my head, and I throw a floating sigil right in front of him. Shock furrows his brows. This will either work, or we will collide, either way, my resolve is ready.
A few feet stand between us, and my heels dig into the soil, increasing my speed. Ethan shifts his stance, swinging his spear up from the ground in hopes of slicing me, and I run into my sigil, vanishing. His blade nicks my thigh.
Six life enders linger by my fading sigil, and I spawn behind him, swinging a red metal blade at the nape of his neck as I emerge, in tandem with signaling my anxious magic to attack.
But Ethan ducks the strike, moving at a speed far faster than I can track.
He grips my wrist and flings me over his shoulder in an unnatural blur.
I squeal, thrashing the ground as my head pounds against it, skidding me over the grass like a smooth pebble across a river. “Fuck,” I cry, meeting darkness for a split second as a chain of explosions detonates out of eyeshot. Ethan’s laughter tangles within it.
“You must be faster if you’re trying to kill me, Kyra.
” His taunts continue as broad pain shortens my breath.
Shit. He dodged all six blades as if it was a fucking day in training.
“Pathetic,” he declares, and adrenaline kicks in.
I’m back on my feet before his thrown weapon pierces the ground.
Right where my head was. “Good, now you’re learning. ”
Surprised I’m still holding at least one of my weapons, I grab his spear and return it to its sender.
I aim high for Ethan’s head with every drop of strength I can muster.
Then I advance. Throwing my physical dagger towards his chest, I create another in anticipation of where he will move and fling that one too, a red glow casing my palms.
As I thought. Fast and effortless. He catches his spear, deflecting my first attack nimbly, whilst dodging the second. But he doesn’t account for the next phase. Perfect. Two explosions go off at his back, kicking up a hell storm of chaos, and I don’t slow, nor give him time to recover.
The magic I created is only a diversion.
A dragon wing shield surrounds me, a few inches separating its strum of energy and my skin, and I push through the smoke, creating another blade, then thrust. The shroud of his silhouette acts as a beacon, and sharpened metal finds a home past his gear to the hilt of my eight-inch blade and into his ribs.
“Fuck!” he roars, and warm liquid, thick and heavy, coats my hand.
For an instant, I relish at hearing him finally curse, then yank back and thrust again.
But Ethan is gone, leaving a golden gleam in his place.
I pull the cloth from under my chin and cover everything below my eyes, searching for him.
Despite stopping the inhale of soot, my lungs burn. Something is broken, battered and bruised. Yet it’s nothing I’m not used to, and nothing that can’t be healed. A breeze helps uncover the area, thinning this fog, and my gaze sweeps, searching for any sign of…I gasp in fear.
“Gotcha,” he growls before a strong fist strikes through my shield and into my stomach, threatening the very lungs fighting to work. My defense shatters, and I fold inward, grunting in agony as my knees buckle and meet the singed grass. But Ethan grips the back of my neck and forces me to stand.
His nails dig into my skin, ensuring I witness the mercilessness of his gaze. Hatred…Unrelenting…Rage…Triggered.
Another strike has me spluttering blood.
Air works past my throat along with the red liquid he punches out of me.
I fight to breathe, heaving and coughing down anything that might sustain my life.
Pain grows with every exhale, and as my lungs inflate, he strikes again, ensuring whatever rib was fractured is now fully broken.
A loud cry burns as it releases. The raw muscle of my throat are inflamed, and my blood coats his lip. “My injury–is now yours,” he hums. Swiping his tongue over the ruby fluid, he takes every drop of my blood into his mouth and growls, swallowing and savoring the taste.
He pulls me closer, my legs dangling inches from the ground, and stares into my soul. The gold of his eyes act as a spotlight to its consuming, fiery tones. “Don’t die on me just yet, little Nova,” he mutters, then tosses me aside like trash.
I hit the ground with another shriek, covering my side and rolling into a ball. I’ve experienced worse. Been through hell and back, but this…this is something more. Soul gripping more.
Pain refuses to abandon me as weighted steps draw near. “Get. Up.” Ethan circles. I hate him. Every cell I’m made of fucking hates him. “Get! Up!”
“Fuck.” *Cough* “You.”
My aura dances with anger, sparkling atop my skin with an energy waiting for release.
His downfall will be not ending me, and each second granted to me will be used without waste.
I need…to…get up. Thinking back when Rebecca questioned me, I have an idea spark.
Let’s find out for sure if placing a shield over a broken bone will work.
Shit. I hope it does.
My right-hand presses onto the left side of my ribs, and magic seeps beneath my skin. It’s painful, and grunts bellow out of me. But I feel it. Sensing the broken bone, I set it in place, leaving a hard shell around it, allowing air in and out of my lungs.
Apparently, Ethan senses it too and re-summons his spear. Out of sheer will, and a quick reaction, I summon then create another dagger, hurling it at Ethan and vanish into my sigil.
“This won’t work a second time.” How is he so damn fast?
He catches me emerging from my sigil and a last-call shield surrounds me.
But Ethan is a step ahead. Golden symbols scatter over my protection as he mumbles a word.
Not soon after, fractures form throughout my shield, shattering it into specks of red light, and fear greets me. Shit !
At great speed, his hand grabs my throat and squeezes.
Flashbacks trickle in of two men holding me down, eager and ready for an unspeakable act.
No, not now. Not these. Those images fade in and out, and I catch a glimpse of Ethan raising his spear.
He grunts as a waterfall of blood soaks his garments, staining the grass, and I release a battle cry.
“Noooo!” My aura flares, encasing everything and everyone near me into a deep crimson hue.
Twelve crescent blades, ten feet in size, manifest around me.
All pointing at him. The most I’ve produced was eight, training with Alex, and I nearly destroyed the whole training room.
Imagine what destruction these will cause.
Ethan’s leer widens. Surprise has no room for the expression he gives me, and I pant. The tug on my aura is inextinguishable from my ribs, but I hold firm. Peering at him beneath my hooded brows, I see the past continue flashing through my eyes.
“Be quiet and stay still. This will only hurt if you fight. I don’t want to mark that pretty face again.”
No, God, no.
I shake my head, and the present returns as I witness him take a step back. Then another. And a few more. Never losing sight of my twelve bringers of death staring him down.
“Go. Get him,” I whisper, and they fly. Blazing across the grass, they hunt him down, but he vanishes through a sigil. “No. You don’t get to run.” Casting one of my own, I follow.
So long as the crescent blades don’t make contact with anything, they stay in effect. Good.
It takes a few tries, a shit ton of pull on my aura, and fifteen minutes, but I track his patterns. His earlier injuries do little to slow him down, but he becomes more predictable. He destroys four of them with his own golden magic, but there are still eight after him.
Creating a physical dagger, I step into my tenth sigil–close to my last, judging by how much it costs to sustain the power–and emerge before him as he collides with my sharp blade. A crunch follows his cinnamon exhale, and I vanish again, taking in his sparkling eyes before they fizzle.
The ground quakes upon returning to where I made my creations.
Earthly slits split and spread in every direction.
Fuck, I destroyed the temple. I watch clouds of smoke burst from the roaring flames engulfing it.
Hunched over on my knees, I feel pain explode through me, ricocheting across bone and forcing a grunt.
“Close. You were so damned close. I’m going to enjoy this– sharing my pain .”
What the fuck. No. How?
Ethan steps past the ruins. Smoke whispers around as though it’s afraid to touch him, and my past returns.
“I’m going to enjoy this–we will enjoy this. Hold out your hands and don’t move.”
“Pain will only last a minute. But you’ll adjust like always.”