Chapter 44 Rionan
Rionan
As Rannirr disappeared from the battlefield, Rionan snarled. He brought his arms to his front in a swift motion, and before his palms could make contact with each other, he heard Thallax shout somewhere behind him, his friend’s voice stopping him dead.
“No, Rionan!” Thallax called. “It is what he wants. You, alone, one on one. If you go to him now, he will fight, and you will die. Xanthia will be lost, Rionan. You must trust Ali. She is part of you. You must trust her to finish this.”
Rionan wrestled with the choice his friend posed before him. A momentary pause, but it felt like time had frozen around him.
To save Xanthia.
Or save Alianna.
A voice in his head told him to stay with his men, to hold the line, while his heart screamed at him to go and find Alianna.
Their cruel world was presenting him with a choice: his Realm, or his soul-bonded partner.
Rionan sent another arc of his power blasting out ahead of him as he cried out in fury, cleaving through another incoming enemy horde, and his men took the opportunity to run forward.
He could hear Thallax in the distance now, shouting over the fray, barking orders to hold the line and defend Savangrad.
That is when he saw Rannirr leaning over the edge of the turret nearest the courtyard, his power flowing off of him on a phantom wind.
A pain ripped through Rionan’s chest like he had never experienced, spearing through his very soul.
He dropped to his knees, eyes wide, frantic, as he gritted his teeth against the cry that made his way up his throat.
He was being impaled. Speared by a burning, fiery sensation that cut through his very core.
The truth of the pain he was in hit Rionan like a devastating blow.
“No,” he gritted out, his voice full of devastation and anguish. Rionan struggled to raise his head. He scanned the upper levels of Savangrad for any sign of life. “Ali.”
Another burning hot sensation ripped through the every fibre of Rionan’s being, and Rionan arched his back with the sheer force of it.
“Ali,” he guttered out. Her name was a question, a plea, a prayer on his tongue. As if in answer, Rionan felt a surge of electricity through his body. A great strength that overwhelmed him, took his breath away, rising to the surface like a tidal wave.
Opening his eyes, Rionan raised his hands. His skin glowed with a faint iridescent light, growing brighter and brighter, as this new surge of power forced him to his feet.
Rionan knew what had happened.
The pain that still vibrated through his body was all he could feel. It overwhelmed his senses. He lost his grip on where he was, who he was.
His insides were fire, destruction. He was water, ice, and snow.
He was the wind. He was the earth. He was the call of animals in the night.
He was the stars and the moon. He was the sun beating down from the sky.
He was the roar of the Amassa soaring overhead.
The dance of the tide meeting the shores.
The sweet melody of the birds that filled his memories.
His blood heated with the essence of Xanthia itself.
His face contorted into one of pure wrath as he began to glow like a newborn star, the power of Xanthia flowing through him like the current of a mighty river. He roared up to the sky, the force of his voice echoing through the fibres of Xanthia itself.
For his friends, for his territory, for his people, for Xanthia. For Ali.
Rionan unleashed himself.
Power exploded out of Rionan in great waves of iridescent light that illuminated the night.
Rionan’s rage burned white hot within him as he continued roaring up at the sky, sending huge bursts outwards over and over again.
His light swept through the grounds of Savangrad, through the forests surrounding the area, through the skies above.
Enemy soldiers began burning where they stood, screaming as their bodies were engulfed in radiant fire, like they had been smote down by the Gods of Xanthia themselves.
Enemy Amassa fell from the sky, their wings ablaze, their bodies lifeless as they slammed into the ground beneath them.
Rionan’s power was sculpted around every Western soldier, everyone who fought on the side of good in this war. His men looked on, awe-struck, at their Lord who stood on the battlefield, glowing like a supernova, hollering his battle cry up to the sky above.
The very land seemed to answer, as cries of animals – birds, mammals, and creatures of Xanthia that had not been heard since the beginning of the war – rose from the surrounding forests, as if beckoning the dawn of a new age.
Rionan opened his eyes, his pulses of light pushing out, out, out, reaching for the furthest parts of his territory.
The burning light emanating from his skin dimmed now, but he remained gilded by an opaline sheen.
He scanned the ramparts of his palace and saw what he was looking for: a small red shield, struggling to hold against the waves of power that pushed from him.
A snarl ripped through Rionan as he brought his hands together before him.
In a flash of bright white light, he transported himself to the location of that red shield.
To Rannirr.
Rionan was going to finish this, once and for all.