Chapter 44
Chapter Forty-Four
WOLFE
"Elariya!" My voice echoed through the chamber.
I spun, searching the room for any sign of her. Nothing. Just the fucking walls and the cold silence that swallowed my voice.
"Elariya!"
No answer.
I could still feel her fingers slipping away from mine. One heartbeat she was here right next to me. The next, she'd simply... vanished.
Breathing hard, I closed my eyes, forcing my mind to still as I reached for her through the bond.
There was only distance. Similar to the disconnection we'd felt when we first arrived in Dravkava.
But deep in the back of my mind there was a pulse. A connection.
It was her.
For the briefest moment I could feel her. She was somewhere inside the fortress, but whatever magic had separated us now stood between us.
I sensed she was frightened and angry.
More panic clawed at my chest. I had to get to her. Had to find a way.
As unsettling as the situation was in Dravkava, I had more assurance that no harm would come to her. This was fucking different.
We were in this place with the worst people imaginable.
And I’d lost her.
I crossed the room, moving to the opposite side and drove my fist into the wall there. Shadow magic burst from my hand on impact, cracking the stone but not breaking it.
Hope sparked, but died straightaway when the wall healed before my eyes. The fractures in the stone knit together, sealing back in place as though I’d never struck it.
"Fuck!"
I slammed both hands against the wall, pouring more power into the strike. Darkness erupted through the room, rattling the chandelier overhead, yet the fortress absorbed every fucking ounce of it.
“You fucking bastards. Give her back to me!”
Malicious laughter answered me. It sounded like Zyrra.
“You are a fool.” It was her.
The wall ahead of me rippled. I expected Zyrra to walk in with that fucked up smile on her face, but the figure that stepped through was Prince Maelor.
A crooked, unhinged smile stretched across his face, a smile that belonged to a man who had spent far too long enjoying the suffering of others.
The sight of him spiked my rage. All I could see when I looked at him was him stabbing my father through the heart with his sword.
I wanted to rip his head from his body and pulverize it. There was no way I’d be able to contain myself.
"Amazing, isn't it?" he mused, clasping his hands behind his back. "No matter who you are, or what realm you come from, you can always reach a person by exploiting their weakness."
My rage flared. In one swift move, I lunged for him, my sword in hand, ready to end him.
But Maelor moved.
Not by much.
Just enough to get out of the way.
My blade sliced through empty air.
The fucker shouldn't have been fast enough to dodge me. Not even close. I recovered quickly, bringing the point of my sword back to his chest.
He smiled, infuriating me even more.
"Where is my wife?" I demanded, tapping his chest with the tip of my blade.
His smile only widened. "Your wife is exactly where she belongs." He tilted his head, amusement dancing in his eyes. "In the hands of the man who should have had her in the first place."
My stomach clenched.
Thayden.
I should have known that motherfucker would be here if Maelor was. My grip tightened around the hilt of my sword until my knuckles ached.
"And what do you think you're going to do to me?" I seethed.
Maelor chuckled, completely unbothered by me or my sword.
"Obviously, I'm going to kill you." He sighed theatrically. "Though it's a shame I can't do it the same way I killed your father."
The words struck me deep, sharper than any blade or poison. For the briefest heartbeat I saw it again.
My father standing in his study with Maelor's sword buried in his chest, covered in Nightmother’s kiss.
The reckless rage that burned through every part of me was insatiable.
"You fucking cunt. That's not going to happen." I took one slow step toward him. "You're already dead in my eyes. Your fucking grave has been waiting for you since the moment you drove your sword through my father's heart."
Maelor's smile never faltered. "We'll see about that won’t we Wolfe Nightblade..."
He spread his arms slightly and darkness exploded from him. Shadow swallowed him whole and black tendrils twisted around his body. His features distorted beneath the storm until nothing remained of the man.
What stared back at me was a being I was far too familiar with.
A Deathwalker.
Silver eyes burned through the darkness and a skeletal face glared back at me.
My grip tightened around my sword, but I was too stunned to move.
“How?” I grated out. It took rare magic to turn a person into a Deathwalker.
“You should see your face,” he spoke in the same gravelly voice that took over when I was in Deathwalker form.
“The Deathless are well prepared. You’re not the only one who can be cursed by death.
They have the means too. When you crashed the wedding in the mortal realm I wanted to rip you apart. Didn’t have the power then. Now I do.”
Maelor struck, wielding a sword from the shadows surrounding him.
I blocked the attack, meeting his blade with a violent surge of my own. The impact of the clash split the stone beneath our feet.
I transformed into my Deathwalker form and struck again. Our swords collided with a deafening crack before we broke apart and slammed into each other again.
He was fast.
Too fast. And it just got worse. Every strike I threw, he answered. Every shadow I unleashed, he tore through with his own. It was like fighting my own reflection—one twisted by years of corrupted magic.
That was what it was. Corruption.
My Deathwalker powers had been enhanced by my Fae abilities and dragon magic. His reeked of the dark, forbidden powers of the Deathless and the necromancer.
It didn’t matter I had to end him and find Elariya.
This was a distraction to screw with me and a chance for the Deathless to buy themselves time.
The whole thing had been a fucking trap. Take Arielle, then take us, so they had more of a chance of wiping out our armies, then getting what they wanted.
Freedom. Then destruction. Then the end of the world as we knew it.
I couldn’t let that happen.
I drove Maelor backwards with a flurry of strikes, forcing him onto the defensive before throwing a blast of death magic that sent him hurtling across the room. I followed with another blast, but the bastard rolled beneath it and the black torrent ripped through the wall instead.
At least this time the stone exploded and the wall didn’t heal.
“You won’t win Wolfe Nightblade. Better to lay down your sword and bend the knee,” he taunted, rushing me again.
I stepped out of the way. “Clearly you’ve lost your mind.”
He laughed, twisting around to gather a ball of crackling magic. He launched it at me, and shit, I wasn’t fast enough. And he was too close.
Pain exploded through my chest where his ball struck, but I ignored it and struck back.
He responded with brutal precision, knocking my sword free from my grasp.
It went clattering across the floor. Before I could retrieve it, he blasted both me and the sword across the room.
I hit the ground hard, my energy waning. The battle outside had taken a toll on me.
Maelor hadn't fought through thousands of demons. He was fresh.
But that was only one small detail that gave him an advantage. I was still Wolfe Nightblade.
He smiled as I climbed back to my feet. "Is that all the great Deathwalker has?"
I ignored him and reached for my sword with my magic. No more talking. Time to focus on finishing him off.
Steel screamed against steel and we traded blow after blow, of blade and magic, neither of us giving an inch.
The room filled with the rhythm of battle.
Strike. Counter. Shadow. Steel.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Maelor mirrored every technique I used, countering me.
As I dodged another killing blow I wracked my mind for ideas. The Deathless had infused him with enough magic to match me. Turning him into a weapon that could possibly outdo me. Even his swordsmanship had been amplified.
We clashed again and I thought of something. There was one thing he couldn't imitate.
One thing no one else could copy.
Pyrion.
The realization struck me like lightning.
I shifted my stance, then struck again, this time channeling the powers of my dragon magic. I felt her—Pyrion. She was fighting. But through the connection we became one mind.
I could normally do this without her. But taking down Maelor in his Deathwalker form, required more power than usual.
Blue dragon fire exploded along my blade, brighter than ever.
Maelor's eyes widened.
He tried to block the blast with a wall of shadow, but it pierced right through.
The flames burst through his guard, knocking him to the ground.
I didn't give him time to recover.
One strike severed his arm from his body, then I took the other arm that was reaching for his sword.
He wailed with agony and darkness peeled away from his body returning him to his human form.
The bastard knelt on the floor, broken and bleeding.
He tried to crawl away, but I bound him there with my magic.
He was right where I wanted him. Right in the path of destruction.
I raised my blade.
“No. Don’t kill me.” Panic stole the color from his face.
“You miserable worm. At least, you got to plead for your life.” I snarled, getting up in his face. “That’s more than what you gave my father.”
“Let’s talk about this.” He looked around as though for help. No one came. I actually wasn’t surprised.
He was about to realize that he’d been nothing but a pawn. Beings like the Deathless cared not for mortals like him.
That left the prick to my mercy. And I had none.
I looked down at him. “I have the perfect end for you.”
He was about to plead again, but I shoved my sword into his heart.
The wail that tore from his lips was enough to wake the dead.
I wasn’t done. I yanked my sword free and raised it again. "This is for my father."
With one clean strike, I swung my sword and cleaved his head from his body.
It fell to the floor and rolled to the corner while blood sprayed out of his neck. The rest of his body crumpled oozing blood and shadows.
Just then, the silver-haired Deathless appeared before me with the corpse faced brother and Zyrra next to him.
“Wonderful,” the silver-haired Deathless crooned with a single clap. “We enjoyed the show. How about a real fight now.”
I lunged for him but the three of them faded away and I was falling through the floor.
Falling into darkness.
Darkness with no end.