Chapter 41 #3
Harald inhaled deeply, thought of the Demon Seed, his own as he knew it, and his newfound ability to grant it.
He felt darkness arise within him, like a great globe of ink bubbling up to the surface.
Focused on that sensation, and felt his Cosmos flex, felt it shape the Numina, and then, in a great welter of power, a singular Seed appeared in his grasp, whorled and black like the pit of an ebon peach.
“That’s a relief,” sighed Eclavistra. “I was afraid I’d been saddled with a simpleton.”
Harald pressed the Seed to Vic’s chest and exhaled in profound gratitude as it glowed blood-red before passing into his friend’s body.
A new sensation immediately dawned upon Harald. A conduit, akin to what he’d felt between himself and Sam when she’d used her Covenant, but slender and cold, birthed from the abyss, a tether that bound him to Vic.
Vic’s being became manifest in his mind’s eye, and he sensed in some clumsy fashion his friend’s nature, the potency of his soul, the magnitude of his Ego, the intensity of his Class development.
And the precarious state of his life force which was slipping away by the second.
“Now,” said Eclavistra calmly, like a loving teacher to a three-year-old student, “feed your Spawn power so that he begins to repair all that damaged tissue.”
Harald didn’t bother to comment, but closed his eyes and focused on the tether, and through it pushed… power? It surged up from his Cosmos like living oil, a font of such beauty and refined potency that it made the Thrones he’d once tapped feel like aerated nothingness.
This he channeled into the conduit, and immediately he felt Vic’s body begin to restore itself. Opening his eyes, he saw dark flames dancing over his friend, and in a matter of moments, Vic’s eyes fluttered and he sat up.
“I had the strangest dream,” said Vic, eyes still unfocused. “I was hanging upside down in Wicked Lizzy’s boudoir, and she’d slit my throat, but so as to help me, you see, for all my blood was on the floor. And then it began to flow back up into my…”
Vic blinked and focused on Harald. “Oh, hello, Harry. You’re looking terrifying. And weirdly familiar. I…”
“You’re all right,” said Harald, putting a hand on Vic’s shoulder. “I just had to do some weird demonic healing to fix you up. Sit tight. I’m going to see to the others.”
“All right. Oh, hello, Eclavistra. How are—” Vic suddenly spasmed and scrambled away from the jet-black demon. “What the fucking fuck—”
“Excitable,” commented Eclavistra.
“Vic!” Harald stepped between them. “It’s all right! Mostly! I killed her, and then my ability snatched her soul and made her a Servitor! She’s on our side now!”
His own words sounded absolutely surreal even as he said them.
Vic froze, eyes wide. “She’s… she’s one of your shadow toy things, now?”
Eclavistra leaned out from behind Harald. “My flesh is very real, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, fuck me,” groaned Vic, and dragged his hands down his face.
Harald couldn’t wait any longer. He dashed over to where Kársek sat on his heels, head bowed, hands limp on his lap. The fact that the dwarf was sitting upright was heartening. In a moment he crossed to him and knelt by his side.
“Kársek?” Harald touched his friend’s shoulder gently. “You… you all right?”
Kársek’s face was expressionless, his eyes open but staring out at nothing.
No response.
“Kársek?” He gave his friend the slightest shake, and the dwarf keeled over on his side. Harald scrambled around, fear throttling him, making it hard to breathe, and touched the side of his neck.
Nothing.
“Kársek!” He turned the dwarf onto his back. No reaction. No movement. He put his cheek to the dwarf’s nostrils and felt nothing.
For a terrible, infinite second, he stared down at his friend’s placid face, and then Harald bowed his head down to rest his brow on the dwarf’s chest.
The world around him contracted and expanded as if in reaction to his grief.
Vic padded over and dropped to his knees beside him. For a moment there was silence, then Harald felt a hand on his shoulder.
“No,” he ground out through clenched teeth. It wasn’t possible for Kársek to be gone. He’d been such a steady, constant presence that at times Harald had even taken him for granted, as one does the ability to breathe.
The dwarf lay still and unmoving.
Vic patted Harald’s shoulder, then gave it a squeeze.
Finally, Harald sat back up. Kársek stared blankly up at Harald’s own night sky. Carefully, hand not shaking, Harald closed his eyes.
“He was a better person than we were,” said Vic quietly. “A damn sight better. The world’s a darker place for the loss.”
Harald exhaled deeply and closed his eyes. Centered himself, and then, with terrible reluctance, rose to his feet.
“How’s Nessa?” asked Vic, rising, too. “Sam?”
“Sam’s steady, I think. Nessa… not so good.”
“Shit,” said Vic, and dashed off.
Harald gazed out across the valley and saw Brianna’s still form in the distance. He didn’t want to go to her side. Didn’t want to suffer another loss. But he took a deep breath and broke into a run.
He covered the distance far quicker than he thought possible and soon was by her side.
The huge knight lay on her back, burgundy hair across her features, her Artifact armor crumpled and dented in ways that had to have broken her body within. Blood pooled about her head like a crimson halo.
But somehow, she was still breathing.
“Brianna!” He took her armored hand in his own.
“Harald.” Her voice was a croak. She smiled. “She dead?”
“She’s dead.”
“Good. Best fight of my life.”
“We’re going to wake Sam up. She’ll heal you. Hang in there.”
“My Slayer’s Vigil has come due. The wounds I deferred.” She closed her eyes. “Never been… this bad.”
Harald stared at the island. Vic was kneeling by Nessa’s side. No sign of Sam rising yet. Desperate, he considered trying to lift Brianna, carry her back to his other friends.
“You’re strong,” he said. “You’ll hang in there. Just long enough for Sam to—”
“Sure,” said Brianna, eyes still closed. “Miracle though. That I’ve hung in there this long. Wanted to hear. Know. That she…”
Harald squeezed her hand, felt the metal begin to buckle, relented immediately. “Don’t talk like that. You’re going to be fine. Just…”
Brianna smiled. “I’m going fast. Vigil’s eating me up.
Now that I know. That she’s dead.” She grimaced, her body spasming subtly in a way that betrayed immense pain as if a fork of lightning had suddenly coursed through her.
Then, she relaxed. She hadn’t stopped smiling.
“Good fight, though. We beat… we beat an arch…”
“Brianna.” His thoughts stilled. “Listen to me. I can heal you. I’ve got a new—a new Class ability. I can give you a Demon Seed, then pour healing energy into you through it.”
“Demon Seed?” For a moment he feared she didn’t even understand what he meant. But then she frowned. “You can…?”
He nodded vigorously. “I just healed Vic. I can do the same for you.”
For a moment, she remained silent, and then she chuckled, blood bubbling up across her lips. “Nah. Think I’ll pass.”
“Damn it, there’s no other way to heal you, it’s—I won’t use the Seed, we can look for a way to—”
She gently squeezed his hand, and such had been her formidable strength that even now, on the threshold of death, it stopped him.
“Harald.” She opened her eyes with obvious effort and met his panicked gaze. “It’s all right. I don’t fear death. Prefer it. To… that.”
He didn’t know what to say.
“Tell me… tell me about the battle.” She closed her eyes again. “Tell me what I… missed.”
Harald bowed his head and felt tears well up beneath his lashes. For a moment he couldn’t speak, his throat an ugly lump of emotion, but then he forced the words through. “She came to where Sam and I were standing. After that huge blast. Flew down to us…”
He spoke in a low voice, recounting those last moments, but before he reached the tale’s end, Brianna’s grip in his hand loosened.
Harald pursed his lips, not wanting to look at her. As if seeing her slack features would make her death true. Instead, he just sat there, staring into the distance, her limp hand in his own, tears burning his eyes.
“Harald!” Vic’s shout came thinly from the distance after some passage of time. “Sam’s awake!”
Somehow, that only made the pain worse. Carefully, reverently, he laid Brianna’s hand upon her battered chest. It took a strange kind of strength to look at her face.
But her expression was peaceful, and even now, as she passed through the vale of shadows into death, the slightest of smiles curved her lips.
The sight gave him, if not comfort, a modicum of peace.
He studied her features, then, with growing resolve, rose to his feet.
He set his shoulders. Inhaled deeply, and began striding toward the distant island.
And with each step, his determination grew. Became heavier, more intense, as ferocious and cold as the abyss’ hunger itself.
Everything that had come before, everything that had led to this moment, each sacrifice, each loss, and every gain.
Everything had been but a prelude.
His real battle began now.
For there was a Celestial War being waged.
And he vowed with all the pain and grief and ferocious resolve in his heart that he would be the one to end it.
THE END