Chapter 22 #2
I wait, with so much strain trying to stay in control and to keep my shadow forms contained, for her to hit him back.
She has yet to even try and continues to block and defend.
Though she moves like she’s been training for longer than just the five years possible.
Her technique the same that Esmirra had taught me when we would train.
Except it’s doing nothing because she won’t hit back. Not even when Percius backs her against the chain and begins pounding into her. Her staff falling to the ground, her skin breaking and I can hear the deafening crack of bones as her sweet scented blood spills.
Percius lands another blow with more force into her stomach before taking a step back.
It hasn’t even been a full minute and she already looks spent.
Her face lined with agony from the beating and the burning.
Even as she blocked and was able to hold it you can see the pain written so clearly on her face.
It makes Percius frown at her and whispers and sneers go around. Murmurs about the so-called ‘Death Devourer’ being false, or her only power is her magic.
She slides to her knees and rests her head to the floor while holding her stomach. Percius sneers at her too.
“Concede,” he demands.
Her shoulders start shaking and I’m so close to pushing my way past Syphix so I can go in there and hold her. Pick her up and take her far away. I’ll beat Darian for demanding I do this to her. Foolish in thinking she would be ready for these kinds of fights.
Then I hear her. The crowd quieting as she sucks in a deep breath before. . . laughing.
Her shoulders shaking were not because she was crying, but because she was laughing.
Her head raises and red eyes darker than I have ever seen them fluctuate as a ring of black and silver around her iris forms. They burn into Percius and instead of this scene I’m taken back to Asier’s classroom when I was saving Percius and Rovan.
I think they’re remembering that too because Percius takes a step back from her and Rovan – who I hadn’t felt move closer to me – whispers, “If she writes a fated death blow right now, will you be able to stop it again?”
No.
I can feel it. I will not be able to do that a second time.
Mavyn shakes her head and pushes herself up.
Something, a force greater or higher, hitches.
“You think this is pain?” she whispers. My soul trembles at it.
“You don’t know burning.” I can feel Percius and Rovan and all the rest of those rebels who were on that eastern field who heard her before she wrote their fate bow to their terror. “But I’ll show you.”
I expect a fate to be written, but instead she grabs her staff and attacks. Her movements faster than they were before and while she flinches when Percius touches her, purposefully trying to splay his hands over her flesh because he had to have understand the correlation, she gains the upper hand.
They fight like they did on the field. Hit for hit, block for block. Percius having over two centuries of experience, and Mavyn. . . she fights as if she’s done so for longer than her nineteen years of existence.
Using her weapon to a degree I’ve only heard stories about.
A practice I’ve seen my father have, but he has said the art of this weapon and its uses were taught and passed down from his father and his before.
All the way back to when the first in our line was created and trained with Syngenia the Blood Witch.
Her confidence is palpable and definite power does not grow any larger as she uses pure technique and skill with her weapon to beat Percius just as bad as he had first done to her.
How she moves. . . it’s captivating. Meditative in a sense with how serene she looks even as Percius continues to touch her skin. She moves with such fluidity and yet it’s hard to pinpoint her next step. She moves with the same feeling that red aura did during the Willow of Lore ceremony.
Red aura that I have more than just an assumption was hers.
The spirits did not just simply change their color.
Percius struggles to keep up. Her speed only picks up as she wields a weapon I’ve trained with my entire life. Using and contorting her body to flow with the movements and force Percius back. Force the Death Devil back.
Her aura gets stronger as I can see this fight coming to a close but not with force or power. Nearly translucent red ribbons float around her. They follow her movements with so much. . .
So much. . .
Peace.
Mavyn moves as if she’s dancing and her aura – because those ribbons and lines of red are her aura visible, an essence that shouldn’t be tangible – moves in sync.
She no longer looks like she’s fighting with rage in an underground club with a body that should have been spent within the first minute. She doesn’t look like she’s burning.
She has said before she is not a god.
I doubt anyone would believe her if she tried saying it again.
“Goddesses above,” Rovan whispers. It’s no longer a fight. It stopped being an actual fight the moment her aura shifted and she found whatever peace within her. It’s a story she’s telling. “I can see her aura.”
We should have known better. I should have known better. I had felt it on that battlefield. I have seen it time and time again. Her will exceeds every limit she should have. Her strength built from spirit instead of body.
Mavyn ends the fight by using her staff to slam Percius’s head into the ground. He does not get up for a moment, but even as he does now it’s too late. The bells ring and Syphix screams to the building that the Death Devourer has won. The undefeated Varian Asier has been defeated.
She twirls her staff as she stands and straightens. Her chest heaving but when I feel for it, I can sense her blood is flowing steadily and her heart beats at an even, slow pace.
Everything within her should be racing, but it barely moves.
Her control.
Even while being pummeled and then fighting for a straight fifteen minutes, nothing within her fluctuates.
Her eyes drift shut as she tips her head back. A slow exhale as Percius slowly stands. He’s bleeding from numerous cuts and bruises are already forming. His red eyes slightly glow from within as he watches my fated.
When she opens her eyes she looks straight to me. And she smiles.
A genuine, true smile. At me. For me. Then she turns to Percius and bows her head to him. He freezes at it along with the rest of us.
“Thank you.” Her smile does not drop and she lightly chuckles before breathing in deep. “I have not done that in such a very long time.”
Percius glances at me before narrowing his eyes at her and tilting his head. “Done what?”
She looks breathtaking. Her eyes shining with such raw beauty and peace.
“Allowed my soul to be free.”
And everything around me disappears. I see it now. That flickering shadow dancing like a flame I had before thought was wavering.
She looks at me again. She looks at me and I. . . I see everything.
Syphix is opening the door but I’m already moving. I take her, my fated, my Mavyllora, into my arms and shadow twist. Bringing us back to Syngenia. Back to my rooms that she burned down to nothing when she believed I hated her for her voice and song.
Her skin is so warm against my hands. Her eyes so open as I am able to look upon her soul.
“Mavyn,” I breathe. Like a prayer. Like a lifeline. Like my own salvation.
Her hand trembles as she brings it to my face. Her fingertips brushing against my cheek, tracing along my jaw. Her touch on me is something I used to dream about.
Is this a dream?
It has to be, doesn’t it?
This can’t be real.
Her eyes follow her fingers. They skip up to my lips. Tracing them as I had to her in the ballroom. So soft and gentle.
I need her to kiss me.
Even if just for a moment. I need her.
“Mavyn.”
She draws up to her toes and I lean down to be closer. Holding back barely from crashing my lips to hers but she needs to be the one to make this decision. She needs to be the one to accept. She needs to make the choice.
I drift my eyes shut and wait. Her fingers over my lips move to my jaw and her other hand curves around my neck.
“Are you mine, Thorne Arcturus?”
“In every lifetime.”
“Then prove it.” And so cruel is she. Her lips only brush mine in the lightest of kisses. “Prove how much you’re mine.”