36. Tassarion
Tassarion
Marcèllian Beauradèl synched his wings, spun around, and launched into the skies. Bombastic fool. As if I was dumb enough to follow him in this deep midnight.
I watched him for a moment as he flew higher and higher until he crossed into the clouds and disappeared.
I laughed. Then I strolled out of the wood and into the courtyard of the garden, my cape trailing behind me like a midnight veil across the ground.
Stone crunched beneath my boots. I flexed my hands and summoned my souls.
The swarm multiplied as they swirled around me.
I clenched my fists, squeezed tight as I drew on an overwhelming amount of souls, then snapped my fingers open.
Souls poured out of my hands and plunged into the stone.
I watched the Nanmiess penetrate the ground. I returned to my leisurely stroll until I reached the center of the garden courtyard.
I stopped. Looked up. Waited.
It took a moment, but I found him. Marcèllian had hidden behind the semi-large cloud to the left, quietly drawing on his ethèr.
He was a Soul Bender with great power. I still hadn’t processed how he bent Nahomie’s limbs when he attacked her.
Possession of non-innate ethèr only came from manipulating Fallen majik.
If he had used it before, he might manipulate the ethèr the same way again.
At the manor, I had been surprised. This time I was prepared.
Standing alone in the courtyard, I steadied my breath. I waited.
I caught some movement in the corner of my eye, but I didn’t turn. Marcèllian would wait to strike while I was distracted. I wouldn’t give him the chance.
I felt a sharp twinge along my leg. An invisible pull. A pinch.
I chuckled darkly.
Coward.
He was testing me.
I waited, still.
The unnatural Limb Bending touched me again.
The majik poked at my arms. Legs. Searching for an entry point beneath my skin to break.
The moment Marcèllian’s bending touched me, Nahomie’s blackfire erupted in my blood.
The destructive fire shot through my skin, latching onto the strange ethèr, and yanked.
A scream tore through the center of the semi-large cloud.
I threw an arm into the air, thrusting out a vortex of souls.
They shot into the skies, piercing the clouds.
The line of souls was a glorious, horrifying sight.
It filled me with abundant pride and joy.
The souls hissed. They latched onto Marcèllian’s body, shackling him in the air.
I jerked my hand to the side. Swirled my fingers.
The souls followed suit, snapping around Marcèllian before coiling around his body.
As if I were holding a taut rope, I jerked my hand in a yanking motion and snapped the chain of souls down with Marcèllian’s body.
Treating him like he was a rag doll, I viciously slammed the traitor into the stone once.
Twice. Over and over. Blood gushed out from where his face split open. Two of his wing pairs snapped.
“Enough!”
The thunderous voice ricocheted across the garden. The sound that surfaced did not belong to Marcèllian Beauradèl. I knew that lilt. That rasp. The sound of many through the throat of one.
“You’ve been disobedient, Slave.“
Once upon a time, the sound of that voice would paralyze me with fear. I would quake in terror. I would lose my mind in a blind rage, taunted by a monster that lived in my bones. My blood.
Not this twinight. Not anymore. Never again.
I looked down at Marcèllian whose body lay several wing beats away. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Then his body twitched, contorting abnormally. His wings jerked, flapping with urgency, though his body didn’t move.
Suddenly Marcèllian stilled, his head bowed.
I remained rooted. Fear would never grip me in the presence of the Fallen King again. Not after what Marcèllian did to my islanders. My home. My wife. I watched him, waiting for any sudden movement.
Marcèllian turned his head with a slowness that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
He angled his head to the side before snapping his head to look at me.
A disturbing smile stretched across Marcèllian’s face.
The smile that was the first thing I saw when I awoke in a cell surrounded by fire, and the last when my body gave in beneath beatings and bludgeoning, for five centuries.
This was why the Infinite had given me explicit instructions to kill them all.
Marcèllian was now reprobate, sharing himself willfully with the Fallen.
His shell of a body was just a host for the Fallen King.
“Mi Roi...”
“Not yet, Obi. Stay put.”
“Slave,” Zemshaza spoke freely through Marcèllian’s mouth.
“How I have missed this island. How I long for Mortevain to be mine.” The Fallen brushed the ground with Marcèllian’s hands.
“Oh, how good it will be to walk freely on Hallowed soil, before the waters of your oceans turn to blood, and your islands become graves.”
“Keep dreaming. You’ll never be given Mortevain,” I spoke cooly, refusing to be unnerved. “Not over my dead body, Zemshaza.”
The Fallen King chuckled.
“Over your dead body. What a lovely choice of words.”
Zemshaza jerked Marcèllian’s body, contorting it into a crawl.
Then Marcèllian’s body rushed me at a speed that was unnatural.
I leapt out of the way, but it was too late.
Zemshaza lunged for me, grabbing my ankle.
He jerked me by my boots as if I weighed no heavier than a bag of feathers.
Zemshaza drug me to the ground in one move.
I wheezed, using my wings as a shield. Marcèllian’s eyes glowed.
His fingers lengthened into sharpened claws.
Possessed by Zemshaza, Marcèllian slashed across my chest with his claws, drawing blood.
Golden ichor dripped down my leathers. I wrenched away from the Fallen, shooting into the air.
Hovered above Marcèllian’s body, wasting no time. I drew on souls and blackfire.
When Zemshaza attacked again, I was ready.
The possessed angel leapt from the ground.
He bared his teeth, seething and mouth foaming.
His eyes were wild. When he neared, I spun, throwing bolts of souls engulfed in sable flame at his body.
Every single blow landed true. When blackfire collided into Marcèllian’s skin, Zemshaza roared.
The sound of a thousand raging hèlsborn erupted into the air, rattling my ears.
It was a horrifying sound. Fallen Angels couldn’t take holy fire.
But Ashiris fire was their eternal ruin.
Zemshaza contorted again, distorting Marcèllian’s body.
“I will remind you why you were my slave for half a millennia. You will suffer, Slave. And so will that thing you call a wingmate. I will ruin her, and I will make you watch.”
Righteous fury set my blood on fire.
I saw crimson at the thought of Zemshaza hurting Nahomie.
“Zemshaza,” I snarled. “I am fearless. Therefore, I am powerful. This twinight you will bow like a buckling beneath the weight of my wrath.”
Zemshaza lunged. Black swirls seeped out of his body. I pulled on Nahomie’s blackfire, silhouetting my body with her flame as a shield. Limb Bending ethèr crushed into my side. While the blast burned, my limbs remained intact.
“Pathetic,” I spat. “You have to possess and control to try and access a Hallowed world. But even if this roach-eating piece of rot let you have his body, you will never access our realm. Even if he bled across the entire island as a bastard sacrifice, you could never enter Hallowed land, ever again.”
The sound that left Marcèllian’s throat was horrific enough to make me shudder. Zemshaza contorted Marcèllian’s body until he became a monstrosity that mystified even me.
Then he began chanting.
Without warning, the twinkling starlight above was shrouded by a cover of black. A small army of ashbats, winged monsters with fanged teeth and taloned claws, descended on Beauradèl Manor.
I held my ground. If my victory would be won by me fighting my way out, then so be it. I breathed in, calming my hearts in front of the wave of terror.
This would be a bloodbath.
And I would not surrender.
As ashbats descended, another army broke into the courtyard. A snarling mass of bloodhounds raced towards me in great strides, teeth bared so they could have their pound of flesh.
I was wholly and completely surrounded. And I wasn’t afraid.
I pulled on souls entwined with blackfire.
It was time Zemshaza Beliah learned why I was called the Monster King.