Chapter 35 Bash #2
He nods as his lips ease into a smirk. “Good. Put the point there.”
I’m glued to the cloudy depths of his eyes, no better than a puppet on his strings. The knife pushes into my neck until it indents the skin.
“No!” Xeni screams, his power filling the room in an oppressive cloud as he shoves the guards away and scrambles to his feet. It drops his father’s influence on me long enough to let me meet his gaze.
Guards surround him once more as a tear slips from my eye.
The magic forces my attention back to its wielder, and the blade sinks deeper until I wince with the slice. A sticky drop of blood trickles down my neck, scorching against my skin.
Zadeus tracks its path with cold fascination. “He makes you weak, Xenesis. You know what has to be done. You’ve known all along, haven’t you?”
Xeni’s scream is closer to a wail as his father reaches forward to drag his thumb across my cheek, mirroring the way he’d touched Xeni moments before. The gesture is intimate, almost tender, and it turns my stomach.
“Tell me, son,” Zadeus continues, eyes never leaving mine. “How much did it hurt, being separated from him? What will his death do to you?”
The coercion burns like fire in my veins, and my limbs shake as I fight to pull my arm away, but the blade only slips deeper. The trickle of blood turns into a steady stream that warms my collar and drips onto my chest.
My eyes flick to Xeni, tracking the clench of his jaw and sickly sallow of his skin as rage and helplessness war across his features.
“I love you,” I whisper, the words torn from me in quiet defiance.
Xeni takes a slow, gasping inhale that seems to freeze time.
He closes his eye and throws his head back.
His lips part.
And he detonates with an otherworldly scream.
Magic blasts out of him in an explosion that knocks me flat on my ass, the force snapping the chains of compulsion from my body. My grip on the knife releases, and it skitters across the ground, spinning away into the shadows.
Xeni charges at his father with a fury that’s pure and unbridled.
A storm given flesh.
His eye is blazing, teeth bared, and every muscle coiled for violence.
Zadeus snatches a sword from one of the guards, the steel singing as it leaves the sheath. The fight erupts in a blur of swinging metal and clashing blades that rings off the walls like tolling bells.
Zadeus has the size advantage, with his longer reach is longer and heavier strikes, but he’s spent decades commanding rather than fighting. Those years of relying on others have made him sloppy. His footwork is lazy, and his guard slow to recover.
Xeni lacks the span and bulk, but his shorter reach is made up for in pure desperation.
He meets every strike with precision—dodging low, twisting under the blade, countering with quick, vicious slashes that draw blood across his father’s arms and chest. His movements are fluid, fueled by years of suppressed rage finally unleashed.
They circle each other in tight, predatory loops, with boots scraping concrete and breaths coming in sharp pants. Zadeus barks a command for his soldiers to stay back, and they freeze at the edge, weapons raised but obedient.
Everyone watches as father and son tear into one another.
Every cut Zadeus lands over Xeni’s arms and face is answered with wounds of his own. Red lines bloom across pale skin, and the coppery scent of blood mixes with the stale air of the tunnels. Xeni burns with a fury that makes the shadows seem to retreat, his knife flashing as he presses the attack.
Cato grabs my arm, pulling me toward Sakane and Ego, who huddle against the wall, but I don’t tear my eyes away from the fight. I’m keenly aware of the guards behind us, held at bay only by their leader’s command.
Exhausted and bleeding, father and son circle one another in tight, weary loops, while their breaths come in heavy pants. Zadeus snarls, his voice rough and frayed at the edges.
“You’ll never best me,” he taunts, though the words rasp with exhaustion. “You aren’t stronger than me.”
“No,” Xeni says in breathless agreement, chest heaving as he straightens. His shoulders are squared despite the blood streaking down his arms.
“But I’m stronger than them.”
Xeni flings his blade aside, and the knife spins across the floor with a sharp metallic clatter.
He spreads his arms wide, palms open, chest exposed.
Terrifyingly vulnerable.
Veins pulse under his skin, and static crackles as strands of his hair float.
Zadeus only stares, a mild, condescending amusement curling his lips. He still doesn’t view his son as a threat.
“Now,” Xeni commands in that deep, multifaceted tone that resonates through the room like thunder, rolling from multiple directions at once.
Three blades flash in the dim light as they drive forward, plunging into Zadeus’s ribcage with wet, meaty thuds. The High Commander’s eyes widen in shock, mouth parting in a silent gasp as blood blooms dark across his chest.
He’s suspended, held in place by the swords of his own protectors.
Puppets controlled by a new master.
Blood spills down the front of Zadeus’s armor to plunk in a puddle at his feet. His eyes move back to his son, and he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.
Xeni sways, limbs going slack, then collapses to the ground with a heavy, final thud.