Chapter 74 #4
Serguei saw a chain point piercing Zion’s other leg. The shadow wielder screamed but had no strength to escape, and the points seemed to sink deeper and deeper. Father and son watched as two more chains rose, heading toward the center of Zion’s chest, where a scar marked his skin.
The psychic felt cornered. He had used his last drop of power to destroy the woman’s barriers—he couldn’t interrupt her mentally.
He thought of the chess games he loved to play.
This was a perfect strategy where the enemy attacks two pieces at once and you can only save one.
Zion was clearly at the greater disadvantage.
Desperate for his son and knowing how this would end, the man skidded through the mud while deflecting the woman’s blows.
The chains struck his sword, sending it flying, and he charged into the voracious’s range unarmed.
He only had time to see Zion’s eyes widen as his son realized what was happening.
Serguei stepped in front, spreading his arms wide and shielding his son’s body with his own to take the final blow. The points entered through his back and emerged from his chest, grazing Zion’s skin.
Checkmate.
Thunder roared through the broken silence, and Zion stared into his father’s eyes, terrified, his mouth open in a scream of pain that wouldn’t come.
Serguei closed his eyes, feeling the blow reverberate through his soul.
Rain, blood, and tears soaked their clothes, their skin, the ground beneath them.
Lightning flashed and a silent scream filled the air as his storm-gray eyes grew calm, knowing this would be his last tempest.
“No!” Zion screamed desperately in the rain.
Serguei collapsed against his chest before his son could even catch him, and the world seemed to stop. Then another thunderclap echoed across the clearing, and the golden energy retreated toward the house, vanishing entirely.
The voracious's smile withered to almost nothing as she stared at the horizon and shuddered.
The chains snapped back, ripping free of Zion's shoulder and thighs with a bloody wrench that made the general wonder if he'd lost parts of his limbs in the process.
Finally, they tore free from Serguei's chest, and he went limp in his son's arms.
This time, Zion caught him in his arms.
The general stared at the voracious over Serguei's shoulder and waited for the killing blow. He couldn't summon the shadows to defend himself, couldn't fight or flee—his muscles were torn to ribbons. They had lost the battle.
The woman stared down at him imperiously, her lips curved downward, her expression sharp as the bladed points that now arched over him, heralding his death.
Zion didn't tremble. He wouldn't die cowering—the man in his arms hadn't raised him to die like a worm.
They stared at each other for a long moment, then the chains moved.
Not toward the shadow's chest, but toward the ground, settling in silent truce.
Zion frowned, unable to believe what he was seeing.
“Family doesn't kill family. This doesn't have to end this way,” she said, her gaze raking over every inch of Zion.
“I'm not your family,” Zion hissed.
“Our mother's shadows disagree.”
“Our mother?”
“Mother or Goddess. Call her what you like. That's the only reason I'm letting you live tonight. Consider it an opportunity to choose your side—but know I won't offer a second chance.”
“You...” Zion whispered, seething with hatred. A promise forged in blood and tears. “I will destroy you, piece by piece, even if it's the last thing I ever do.”
The voracious held his gaze for a long moment, then smiled, savoring the threat as if it were the most thrilling game of her life.
She glanced one last time at the cabin, her smile fading as she suppressed a shudder, then turned and hurried toward the wall.
When she finally reached the passage she'd torn through the barrier, she looked back—at Zion's eyes: blue as the ocean, flecked with green, the same color as the jewel embedded in his chest. One of the jewels Serguei had stolen and hidden in the most precious place in the world. Over his son's heart.
“I look forward to our reunion. I'm sure we'll both have a lot of fun, little brother.”
And she vanished into the dark forest.
Δ
Zion struggled to his feet and draped Serguei's arms over his shoulders, then started dragging the psychic across the field of ash.
“Enough!” Serguei whispered. His heart was still pumping, but all the blood was leaking through the hole in his chest. “Stop, boy!”
“No!” Zion shouted, desperate. He wouldn't stop—he couldn't. He had to carry the man, had to keep him breathing until they reached the hospital.
“It's over, Zion!” Serguei exclaimed, and the general's feet faltered.
It was a miracle he could still move after his muscles had been shredded like that. Without strength for another step, they both collapsed into the mud. But the moment the general's knees hit the ground—shielding his father from the impact—he forced himself up again and resumed dragging him.
“Stop...” Serguei forced out, and the wound gushed fresh blood. Life was draining too fast—he could feel his strength fading with each passing second. Zion tried to lift him from the ground, but the psychic only wanted to lie down. “There's no hospital nearby... Listen...”
“We'll make it to the hospital,” Zion kept repeating.
There was no understanding in his gaze, only desperation and anguish. The shadows no longer whispered in his ear—he was alone and shattered. He tried to lift Serguei one last time, but the psychic cried out in pain and refused to cooperate.
“Stop! It's over, Zion!” Serguei cried, looking at his son, devastated. “You need to understand!”
Zion stared at him as if he could see into the depths of his soul.
There was so much anguish it was hard to breathe.
All he could do was lay the man on the muddy ground and collapse, sobbing.
Serguei took his son's hand and gazed at him with eyes the same color as Zion's own, yet infinitely different.
“My son... listen...”
“We need to get to the hospital,” he kept repeating.
“We don't have time... I don't want to waste my last seconds on foolishness. I need you to listen.”
Zion shook his head, refusing to hear it.
But then Serguei began to cough, and blood splattered across Zion's face.
His desperation gave way to shock. The psychic reached up and caressed his son's cheek, as if memorizing every contour.
Then he lowered his fingers and pressed them against Zion's chest.
“What she said about the stone is true. I hid a god's eye inside you, over your heart.”
The general stared at him, stunned. His gaze dropped from Serguei's eyes to the hand over his heart. He remembered the scar on his chest.
“Why over my heart?”
“Because, to me, it's the most precious place in the world. And therefore, the safest.”