End
It’s Over
There is a clear path that led me to this moment. From the very first use of my powers in the Badlands to this final portal.
What began as the unearned black mark only ever brought me to this—to my death at the hands of a god.
Running into the two of them in less than two minutes. A damned record.
Darkrend takes a step towards me and the air itself seems to reverberate around him. The universe quakes as he tilts his head to study me. He’s tall, like Mary, but armor makes it difficult to discern how much of him is really flesh and bone.
Maybe none of him is anymore.
The darkness fights back as I try to summon the simplest of shadows. The spark of power sputters and dies—wisps of ink trail uselessly off my fingertips.
“Your powers won’t work here, child,” Darkrend says taking another step forward. “Nothing goes unless I say so.”
The infantilizing term would have set my nerves on fire if it weren’t so true. In the wake of this being, I am nothing more than a fly. Nothing more than a speck to be rubbed from existence.
I don’t see the strike. Probably because I launched myself at his legs. But the power hits me square in the chest and I crash into the opposite wall with earth-shattering force.
Pain radiates down my spine and seeps deeply into my bones. There’s nothing for it, though. Nothing to soothe it. My body has switched sides and taken every ounce of healing with it.
Every smidgeon of my power is gone.
I roll to my hands and knees, slowly pushing myself to sit on my heels.
Darkrend strolls towards me like he has all the time in the world.
Which he does.
Again, I leap for his legs. The move is met with a knee to my jaw which spikes pain through my entire body. Something cracks in my lower back, which seems silly for a strike to my head.
But I careen backwards into the wall, ricocheting off it again and landing on my back.
Blood. I taste blood.
How human of me that my final moments are met with the rancid, coppery taste. The irony is beautifully tragic.
Heh. Iron-y.
There’s a snicker of laughter from someone at the other end of the room. Maybe Omen. They’re a sick fuck like that.
“What are you doing?” A voice echoes from somewhere in my mind. Or beside me.
I have no idea now.
“Dying,” I whisper. And Percy’s face leans over mine, her eyes that were normally amber now look translucent.
“Who’s she talking to?” some in the room asks.
“I have no idea,” Darkrend answers, a perplexed note in his otherwise discordant, godlike voice.
“You’re giving up?” Percy asks, she makes to grab for my hands to pull me seated but remembers too late that she can’t.
I grin stupidly, knowing she can’t even see my face. Maybe she should. It’s the end, after all.
The mask hisses with angry warning signs as I release the clasp. I toss it aside and finally sit, feeling something acutely painful in my back. Something that will definitely not heal in time.
“Giving up what?” I scoff, turning to her. “Giving up a life I never wanted? A power I never asked for?”
“Alexa, are you sure this is her?” Darkrend’s voice seems distant now.
A feminine voice answers, but I don’t hear it.
“You really want to die that badly?” Percy asks the same question everyone else has asked.
“Obviously,” I groan. “I’m tired of pretending otherwise.”
“Why?” Percy asks, kneeling beside me.
“I can’t keep being responsible for the sins of others,” I cough out the final word and see blood coating my hand. “Oh, that’s my lung for sure.”
“Why do you fight like you have nothing to lose?” Darkrend’s voice is much closer now.
I look up to the figure that towers over me. He reaches down and grabs me by the jaw.
The grip is so much worse than Mary’s. This hurts. A lot.
I can’t even cry out when he holds me at his eye level.
“Are you sure?” Percy asks, her shorter form beside me now.
“Maybe she’s insane like Yarys,” Darkrend’s snort of laughter is almost human. He tosses me and I strike the hard concrete wall again. A shock of pain radiates down my legs.
And I can’t feel them anymore.
“Fuck,” I grunt, rolling onto my back again, “that was something important. And yes, I’m sure.”
“Then I’ll be here. The whole way,” Percy sits beside my head. I can’t feel her, but this will be enough.
“Thank you,” I whisper, watching the way the lights fluctuate as my eyes start to fail.
The darkness behind my eyelids is comforting. Dying is a lot more comfortable when you can’t feel the pain anymore.
Maybe they’ll remember me as a coward.
Maybe no one will remember me.
It’s probably better that way.
Ringing begins in my ears. Like the scream before a missile strike. I think I saw it once in a movie. Some old wartime documentaries about weapons before Affliction.
“That’s not in your head,” Percy says, and I open my eyes again to see her staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows that circle the conference room.
“Weird,” I croak. “Are you sure it—”
My eyes finally focus enough to see the dark object heading straight for the room. Like a fragment of the void itself.
Darkrend turns, too, and takes a step backwards.
A single step. A single sign of fear.
Hell breaks loose as the object hits the building.
The Angel is obliterated as the huge thing hits him. His corpse splatters like a raw egg, painting the granite table in a fresh coat of blood.
The blonde woman makes to move forward, but Omen grabs her arm and they dive through the windows on the other side of the room.
The elevator beside me dings open and footsteps crash around me. I wiggle just enough to sit up against the wall. It’s hardly an improvement, though, because the dozen newcomers are standing between me and whatever else just entered the battle.
“Where is she?” An unearthly voice hisses the words. It sounds straight out of a cosmic horror flick.
“This does not concern you, beast,” Darkrend’s voice sounds more sure, but I saw the way he’d backed up.
“I saw that,” I cough out, and it seems like the room freezes. “I saw the fear. You’re no god. You’re just a psychopath with a loaded nuke.”
The crowd splits as if they just now realized I’m down here. It becomes suddenly clear that these aren’t just Guild members. Some of them are faces I recognize, but some are definitely outside hires, as it were.
“Focus,” Percy hisses.
“Right, yeah,” I whisper and I finally see them.
The beast.
It’s like a biped wolf with digitigrade legs, a narrowed waist and muscular torso. It–she, I guess, has two visible breasts covered in fur and massive tree trunks for arms. The hands end in dagger-like claws. She has two bat-like wings protruding from her spine.
Her face isn’t exactly dog-like but has aspects of canine features.
Two bat-like ears stick through a mane of dark fur, the bangs covering orange, slitted irises.
Her nose and mouth, though, are more human.
Instead of a snout, she has a slightly protruding nose and lips–like that of a feline.
Her facial movements are decidedly human, though. Especially since she’s talking.
She’s beautiful. There’s sincerity in the power that emanates from her. Feral yet regal. Deadly yet protective. Dichotomous identities surround its existence, and one thing is certain—she shouldn’t be here.
Because amongst all the things that the Disruptions brought, creatures like her weren’t amongst them.
“Arya?” The beast’s voice rumbles and has a feminine twang to it.
“Present,” I chirp, shooting the creature a lopsided grin. There’s blood pooling somewhere it shouldn’t. The light has definitely gotten brighter. The humming is back, and I think it’s in my head this time.
“Pay attention,” Percy hisses.
“Sorry,” I say, and blink a few times to ward off the sparks in my vision.
The creature, who I will now term wolf-bat, wastes no time in leaping at Darkrend. To his credit, he doesn’t show the same fear he had moments ago.
Except instead of the creature getting smeared into paste, she lands on the dark knight. Creature and monster go rolling across the shattered room where they land in a pile of fur and metal.
The group of Remnants start forward but seem hesitant.
And it finally clicks why.
Darkrend isn’t using his powers. He’s only using brute strength. Only his exceptional size and strength stop him from being eviscerated by her sharp claws and teeth.
There’s no sign of the power that he’d shown only moments before the creature’s arrival.
As they roll, the wolf-bat gets her feet against Darkrend’s chest. Powerful thighs contract and the armored being flies across the room and through one of the remaining windows.
The relief is momentary, though, as a rift opens again and he steps through. His armor looks whole and intact—like nothing had happened.
“I know who she is now,” Darkrend says. “She won’t be safe.”
“It is you that is no longer safe. She is more powerful than all of us.”
“How adorable,” Darkrend’s mocking tone is clear. “You’ve developed a crush.”
The beast snarls and leaps at Darkrend again. He simply snaps his fingers and disappears from reality.
With a mighty snap of its wings, the beast redirects course and lands amongst the group of Remnants.
The first one can’t even scream before the wolf-bat bites into their neck. Something white and sharp shatters and pulls free as the creature reels back, growling in triumph.
She makes quick work of the other Remnants. None of them even manages to throw a punch, much less use their powers. Like Darkrend, each of them seem limited to flesh and bone.
My vision darkens as I watch the gore and guts. It’s only by sheer will and morbid curiosity that I manage to shake myself out of the stupor.
Good thing, too, because as the creature shreds the final attacker, she turns to me.
“Oh, this is going to hurt,” I hear my voice, but it sounds far away.
In a way, it’s somewhat of an honor to die to a creature like this. To something so magnificent and unearthly. To something beautiful.
The creature changes, though. As she steps forward, the torso slims. The face flattens. And the legs straighten. The wings disappear and as I blink back the haze, I see her.
Bloody Mary.
And she looks horrified.
“Oh,” she drops beside me, mouth moving faster than I can watch. Her ruby-red lips catch the light of the room and shine with something almost magnetic.
She’s dressed like I’d just seen her. Gorgeous.
“She’s perfect for you,” Percy says from beside me; I glance up and find her staring at us with a gleam of pride in her eyes.
“Perfect?” I ask, and she gives me a signature cocky smile.
“You mean something to her. It’s in the way she looks at you. Don’t mess this up, Skovsgaard.”
“Fuck you,” I chortle, my words slurring. “She just wants to recruit me.”
Mary’s eyes find mine and she frowns with concern before looking up to where Percy stands. But she shouldn’t be able to see Percy.
“Bloody Mary in the flesh,” Percy whistles. “Not only does she care about you, but I bet she’d bring down the world for you. And she probably could.”
Warmth burns at my chest, and I look down to see Mary’s hand against my sternum. The red glow feels good. Like a soothing massage working out kinks.
“You need to stay alive now,” Percy says, kneeling beside me.
With Mary on my left and Percy on my right, the blend of living and dead is almost too much for my mind to comprehend. Yet, I try to give Percy my attention as she begins to disappear.
“I’m moving on, Arya,” she gives me a tired smile. “You’re in good hands now. Be well.”
“Goodbye, Percy,” I whisper, feeling my eyes prick.
“Stay with me,” Mary’s voice sounds loud and I startle, looking back at her.
“Why?”
“Because I need you to,” Mary whispers, then she leans forward and captures my mouth with her own.