Chapter 13
The Tear
They flew.
Aldric rode his own dragon, the creature cutting through the ash-tinted sky with heavy, powerful wingbeats.
Lirith, however, had insisted that Ulric ride with her.
She had forgotten to summon a third drake.
Conveniently.
Aldric chuckled under his breath.
Succubi.
He glanced to the side.
Lirith sat in front of Ulric, her back pressed against his chest, wings tucked close as the wind rushed past them. She had made herself comfortable, very comfortable.
Ulric did not complain.
Not even a little.
Aldric smirked.
He urged his dragon slightly faster, the beast responding with a low rumble as it surged forward.
They needed to move quickly.
Lirith had explained that Nerathys was roughly half a day away by flight.
And since this was considered an active threat, Crimson Mirror travel was heavily restricted.
Which meant Aldric and Ulric couldn’t use it.
They had to fly.
Aldric’s jaw tightened.
Shit.
I hope Rae is okay.
But he could feel her.
The bond was still there.
Always there.
Pulling at him.
Even though thinking about her still hurt.
I’ll beg her to forgive me.
I’ll do whatever it takes.
I’m not giving up.
The wind roared past him as they continued through the darkening sky.
After a while, he glanced to the side again.
Lirith was still nestled comfortably against Ulric.
Her wings shifted slightly as she leaned back more fully into him.
Ulric adjusted his posture, steadying her without thinking.
Aldric chuckled quietly.
They do look cute.
He smiled.
Maybe this woman will finally bring some sense to this stubborn bastard.
Ulric caught his look.
Their eyes met.
Aldric subtly gestured, a small motion of wrapping an arm around her.
Ulric stared at him for a moment.
Then…
He followed the suggestion.
His arm moved around her waist, firm but careful.
Lirith visibly relaxed.
She nuzzled back against him, her wings shifting slightly as she settled deeper into his hold.
Aldric smiled.
Ulric looked back at him.
And gave a small nod.
A faint smile forming on his lips.
The land began to open.
The valley came into view.
Immediately… something felt wrong.
The air itself felt heavy.
Wrong.
Foreign.
Like something that didn’t belong.
Lirith stilled.
Her posture changed instantly.
Relaxed warmth gone, replaced by sharp focus.
Aldric saw her push her drake forward.
They cleared the mountain ridge.
Then turned sharply left.
And saw it.
Movement.
Something massive.
Clawing along the walls of Nerathys.
Stone cracked beneath its weight.
Dust drifted into the air.
Then Aldric saw them.
The defenders.
A dozen, maybe.
Demons and succubi.
Fighting.
Cutting.
Trying to hold the line.
Aldric’s eyes scanned immediately.
Searching.
White hair.
She would definitely wear something ridiculous.
Something stunning.
Beautiful.
His mouth watered.
Not practical at all.
She’d probably go with white.
Or silver.
Maybe something flowing.
Light blade, probably.
No…
He smiled faintly.
She’d wear heels.
Of course she would.
Lace up heels.
Completely impractical.
Completely her.
Gods… he missed her.
Her antics.
Her warmth.
Her bubbly energy.
He shook his head.
Focus.
Lirith turned toward him, her voice cutting through the wind.
“We’re coming in hot! Get ready!”
Aldric didn’t even have time to respond.
She already lunged.
Leaping from the drake.
Two short swords flashed into her hands.
Ulric followed right behind her.
Mace ready.
Aldric sighed.
The helmet slid on.
Then stepped forward—
And jumped.
For a brief moment he was flying through the air.
Fast.
As he got closer—
The shape resolved.
Feathers.
But not quite.
They shimmered in the air like living silver, shifting and sliding over one another. Each movement produced a piercing metallic sound. Sharp, grating, unnatural.
The creature’s body was draconic.
Massive.
Powerful.
But its snout—
More like a lizard.
A long, angular maw filled with endless rows of teeth.
Each tooth the size of a grown man.
Its eyes were black.
Pitiless.
And it moved with purpose.
Agile.
Climbing the vertical walls of Nerathys like gravity meant nothing.
Aldric adjusted mid-fall.
Dreyrath slid free.
Heat surged through the blade.
He struck.
The sword carved deep into the creature’s front limb, slicing off a massive chunk.
Blue blood sprayed across the wall.
Aldric reached for one of the feather-like plates—
He couldn’t.
They were razor sharp.
His gauntlets slid off as if he had grabbed polished blades.
Shit.
Above him, Ulric slammed his mace into the creature’s snapping jaws, deflecting a bite aimed at Lirith. The other claw lashed out, but Ulric blocked it again, muscles straining.
Aldric was slipping.
The creature kept climbing.
Higher.
Higher.
He saw a small gap between the plates and made a decision.
He drove Dreyrath deep into the creature’s side.
The blade bit.
Held.
He braced himself, then launched upwards, calling on the blade mid air as he moved.
The creature made no roar.
No scream.
Only a lingering hiss.
And something else.
An echo.
Like metal grinding deep underwater.
Aldric climbed.
Higher.
Nerathys defenders fought nearby.
Full armor.
Helmets.
Their weapons coated in bluish blood.
Aldric didn’t slow.
Higher.
Then—
He saw it.
A small opening beneath its jaw.
No plates protecting flesh.
He took the chance.
He breathed into his brand.
Into the blade.
Crimson heat surged.
He plunged Dreyrath deep.
Blue blood erupted.
He carved.
Forced the blade deeper.
Then—
He felt it.
The life draining.
The creature weakening.
Its movements slowed.
Its grip on the walls faltered.
The massive body began to slacken.
Aldric didn’t hesitate.
He jumped.
High.
Cleared the wall.
Landed hard on both feet.
He straightened.
A dozen demons.
Fully armored.
Watching him.
Silent.
Ulric and Lirith landed moments later.
The battlements fell quiet.
Ulric staggered slightly as he landed. A chunk of flesh was missing from his shoulder, the wound deep and raw. Blood streaked across his torso, running down his side, soaking into the torn remnants of his armor.
Yet he remained upright.
The mace still hung in his good hand.
Steady.
Unyielding.
Lirith moved close to him immediately, one hand hovering near the wound, silver eyes sharp with concern. Her lips moved softly as she whispered a quiet incantation, faint golden light beginning to gather around her fingers as she started the healing process.
All eyes were on them.
And on Aldric.
Aldric slowly reached up…
And removed the helmet.
The place got even quieter.
Recognition spread.
Goroth stood at the far end of the battlement, towering and silent, his presence alone enough to still the air. Mareth stood beside him, both blades already drawn, his sharp gaze fixed first on Aldric—
Then shifting to Ulric.
Mareth’s eyes narrowed as he took in the shredded remnants of Inquisitor armor.
He began walking toward him.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Lirith stepped in front of Ulric without hesitation.
Blades drawn.
“Touch him and I’ll carve another smile on that smug face of yours.”
Mareth stopped.
His head tilted slightly.
“You? He’s with you?”
Lirith didn’t take her eyes off him.
“Yes.” A beat. “He’s mine.”
Aldric glanced at Ulric.
He was…
Blushing.
Lirith turned, her expression softening for just a moment.
Her fingers brushed lightly along Ulric’s jaw as she rose onto her toes and kissed him.
Aldric made a mental note to remember that moment.
And bring it up later.
But his thoughts cut short as he heard a voice.
A voice he had forgotten how much he loved hearing.
Two women stepped onto the battlement.
One with red hair.
The other—white.
He recognized that shade.
“No. I do not want to hear it. Baron Veeth said they would aid us, and I am not going to—”
Golden eyes met his.
Everything else faded.
She looked exactly as he imagined.
The armor she wore was…
Just her.
Low cut.
Tight.
Metal plates placed more for aesthetic than protection.
Vambraces hugging her forearms.
Her midriff exposed.
Delicate filigree etched into the metal.
Completely impractical.
Completely Seraphae.
His gaze lowered.
A skirt of layered plates.
And—
Heels.
Lace up heels.
His mouth watered.
Seraphae stopped.
Dead in her tracks.
Her lips parted slightly.
Aldric took a slow step forward.
“Rae.”
He could feel the entire court shift.
Weapons subtly drawn.
Mareth and Goroth did not move, yet their postures stiffened as if preparing for charge.
Hands tightening.
Aldric dropped to one knee.
“I can never take back what happened.”
Silence fell over the battlement.
“I completed the brand. It nearly cost me my life and my soul, but here I am.”
He pulled aside part of his breastplate.
Revealing the finished brand.
Seraphae kept staring.
Silence.
Goroth and Mareth stepped forward.
Mareth spoke through gritted teeth.
“We don’t have time for this.”
Goroth grunted in agreement.
He looked between Aldric and Ulric.
“We’ll deal with this later, this is not over.”
Ulric stepped forward.
“The beast is dead. I saw its neck cleaved off.”
Mareth shook his head.
“This is no ordinary foe, Inquisitor. This is—”
A rumble cut him off.
The city shook.
Goroth turned.
“Next one’s in line! Ready your weapons!”
Aldric was already fastening his armor.
“What’s going on? Why did this thing attack?”
Mareth looked at him.
“I should cut your head off for setting foot here again, knight. But because of you, we managed to kill this iteration. We’ve been battling it for a day.”
“What do you mean iteration?”
“Every time we kill it… it comes back.” He took a breath. “Different. Stronger and more resilient than before.”
“Shit.”
Movement exploded across the battlements.
A dozen chosen ones leapt over the walls, moving to intercept.
Mareth stepped closer, locking eyes with Aldric.
“This is bad. Really bad. We’re running out of ideas. Nothing that we do kills this thing permanently. We have never faced such an enemy.”
Ulric spoke.
“Retreat could be an option.”
Mareth shook his head.
“This is a foe that wants to annihilate a bloodline, it will not stop.”
Aldric’s eyes sharpened.
“Whose bloodline?”
Mareth looked tired.