Chapter 40 Azahara
Azahara
Azahara didn’t want to believe that Illyan would lie to her. They had been together for so long, and while she only remembered this year with them, her journals told her they were to be trusted.
Footsteps, so many footsteps, were approaching them.
She still held Illyan’s hand as time seemed to slow down.
“Illy, please don’t...” Azahara gripped their hand so tightly that they shot a glance at her. The pain in their eyes was palpable, and she felt every inch of it. “How... how did you know?” The burning behind her eyes made her blink rapidly, fighting back the tears.
“You wouldn’t have listened to me,” Illyan admitted. The truth was clear and it made her take a shaky breath. This had been intentional. Judging by the surprise on Zhal and Kaed’s faces, she guessed they were being truthful when she asked them.
A horrid pain ripped through her, and she quickly pulled her hand away from them.
“I’m going to get his wings back,” Illyan declared and pushed past them, charging so quickly that even Zhal couldn’t grab their lithe arms.
“Illyan, stop!” Azahara shouted. The approaching footsteps numbered at least a dozen sets, if not more. She cursed softly as she watched Zhal charge after them, while Kaed came to her side and drew the longsword from his hip. She gripped her own dagger tightly.
The sounds of rushing feet were coming from the only other door, growing louder and louder, causing her heart to slowly creep up into her throat. Through the darkness, she could see tiny lights emerging. Initially resembling fire, they gradually took on a more solid form, which turned her stomach.
Eyes.
They were fiery red and yellow eyes.
Illyan reached the wings of Helio, their hands raised, and hues of gold and purple swirled around them. This caused Zhal to halt behind them.
Her gaze shot to the corridor, and then back to Illyan.
“Hurry, damn it!” Azahara called out, her heart racing.
With each passing second, they drew closer, and she knew exactly who they were.
In that number, they would be torn to shreds.
Even Zhal, who could probably take on a few of them, wouldn’t stand a chance against a dozen, if not more, Gorruk.
“Kaed—”
“I know,” he replied, his face etched with pain. “I swear I didn’t know.” Carefully, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his chest. Her embrace mirrored his, even tighter.
“I’m the worst,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have doubted—”
“Let’s get out of here, and you can apologize all you want.” He interrupted gently. He pulled her back slightly and pressed his lips briefly and passionately to hers. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” she said, taking a deep breath and stepping away from him. They needed to run; that was their only option.
Every one of her senses was vibrating as she charged toward Illyan. Kaed, not needing to be told what to do, moved straight towards the other corridor from which the footsteps were coming. “Zhal, help Kaed keep them back!”
They crossed paths as Azahara came to Illyan’s side. “I’m going to kill you for this,” she said through gritted teeth. “What do you need from me to hurry this up?”
“Give me your hand, Ladybug,” they requested. Their hand was illuminated with the aurora sky of So’ol, and it reached out for her. Her hand hesitantly moved towards theirs. The strong pull from Helio’s wings called to her again, urging her to touch them instead of Illyan. “Lend me your strength.”
She took a deep breath, and with a resigned clap, she gave them her hand.
Instantly, she was engulfed by a bright, overwhelming light that wrapped around her like a fiery embrace.
It wasn’t necessarily painful, but rather uncomfortable, akin to the slow removal of stitches from a healed wound.
The sensation made her skin crawl and her body tense.
Everything around her appeared proportionally smaller, as if she had grown to the size of the Giants who called this place home.
“Take them,” a voice urged. “Helio?” “If anyone should have them, it is you.” “No…” The voice belonged to Illyan’s great-grandfather, but she couldn’t believe it was really him. “Take them.” A terrible, screeching sound overwhelmed her senses. “Take them. Take them. Take them.”
“Shut up!” The world around her gradually became visible again, as if something had been obscuring her vision and was finally being ripped away.
Illyan still held her hand, but in her opposite, rested a silver crystal. Its hues of purple and blue glistened against their alabaster skin. A warm and inviting sensation enveloped her, as if something were cradling her.
“Ladybug…” It was Illyan calling out to her. “Please, give me the Magic.” When she looked at them, she saw fear rippling through their expression.
“I do not belong to them,” the voice called again, and she gazed at the weakened crystal in her hand. “I belong to you.”
“Azahara…” Illyan’s voice was gentle, but trembled in the wake of their situation.
“You lied to me.” She spoke, and she knew why they were afraid at that moment. Her voice was not her own but that of an ethereal power not to be trifled with.
Her fingers wrapped around the crystal, and she stepped away from Illyan. Everything became clearer then, as if someone had wiped her eyes and polished them to a shine.
“Consume me.” Her gaze shifted to her hand, which she squeezed tightly. Crimson leaked through her fingers and trickled down her wrist.
“Azahara, don’t!” Then, Illyan did something she could not have imagined—they threw their Magic at her. Like a thousand hurricanes, the force rushed toward her, slamming and tossing her backward.
She hit the ground with such force that her grip on the crystal was lost, and her shoulder dislocated upon impact. The echoing sound of metal on metal ceased, and all that could be heard was the crystal clinking against the stone floor.
“Do not let them have me.” Azahara sat up, her arm falling limp between her legs. Rubbing her nose, she leaned forward, her eyes scanning the floor for the crystal.
“Ladybug, please,” Illyan screamed as they rushed toward a singular place in the room. Her eyes were trained ahead of them, finding where the bloody crystal lay. Quickly, she got to her knees and then her feet, pushing off and rushing toward it.
“So much death and carnage will come if you do not save me,” Helio’s haunting voice echoed.
As she was significantly faster than Illyan could ever hope to be, she reached the pickup point when another wave of Magic hit her, smashing her into the nearest wall with a loud crack. Her head bounced on the limestone, and the world began to spin.
She whimpered, her eyes crossing as she watched Illyan pick up the crystal. The clarity that had enlightened her vision was gone, and the room’s darkness once again masked her vision. Illyan was frowning at her, wearing a deep, painful expression that struck at her core.
“Why,” she said, her bloody hand pressing against the open wound on her head. “Why did you do this, Illyan?”
“Me?” They clutched the crystal to their chest and stepped toward her. “You—”
“Why did you bring us here?” She clarified her question.
“I...” They took a few steps closer to her, their hands outstretched. “Please, Ladybug, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Don’t touch me,” she said through clenched teeth.
Getting to her knees, she looked past them.
Both Kaed and Zhal were keeping the hall clear.
Their strategy was working to their advantage; the Gorruk could only come in individually, and they were quickly able to keep them at bay.
Neither of them had noticed the scuffle between Illyan and her, and she wondered what Zhal would do to them after finding her in this state.
The sudden urge for the crystal and the Fae Magic had completely vanished. Now that Illyan had it in their grasp, it meant nothing to her. What would have happened if I had consumed the Magic?
Sudden disgrace filled her. “I don’t know what happened.” How could she have been so foolish to try and take from the Fae? The voice was obviously malevolent and attempting to deceive her. She was just too weak to resist.
Always too weak.
“It’s okay. We need to get them, and—” Illyan’s sudden pause, as they saw something out of the corner of their eye, made her stomach drop.
Turning her head, she saw three figures walking through the entrance they had arrived through. Her hand moved to the floor to help herself up. Illyan was there to assist her. “Gods, I’m sorry...” they whispered into her ear.
The very distinctive male figure turned his gaze toward them.
“Kaed! Zhal!” Azahara screamed as Illyan opened a wether behind them, and they quickly stepped through without hesitation. Their eyes landed on her, and they immediately came to her side.
“Illyan, get us out of here now,” she said through a shaky breath.
“No, no, you can’t go just yet.” The voice was brutish, and she could feel it in her chest, as though it were rumbling inside her. “The fun has just started.”
Azahara turned to Illyan to see them working on opening another portal to get them out. There was a sense of impending doom as the three approached; the Gorruk had suddenly stopped their progression, only lingering in the doorway, staring at them.
“He said you would come.” The man extended his hand toward them, prompting the two High Elves to unsheathe their swords and launch into an aggressive charge.
With swift reflexes, both Zhal and Kaed positioned themselves in front of Azahara, intercepting the Elves’ attacks with their blades.
Zhal delivered a powerful kick to the chest of one of the Elves, sending him hurtling backward right past his companion.
Kaed’s sword clashed with the Elf soldier, and as the metal met, Azahara turned her attention to the assumed leader, who had his eyes on Zhal. He smiled and waved his hand, summoning the Gorruk to move toward her.