Shadow of the Abyss

Chapter 228: The Dark Curse III

Syris nearly choked in disgust, dashing towards the Teivel in a wisk of white light. Ariane, aided by her two Golden Watchers, matched her speed, arriving faster than the blinking of an eye. At the same time, Ragnar and Zaros darted to guard the threshold, emanating dark auras.

Teivel crackled, his Great Scimitar whirling into a semi-arc, catching Syris and Ariana's attacks, when he noticed tendrils of ice treading along his blade like a serpent. It exploded just when it neared his arm, wrenching the sleeve off his arm in an eruption of fire and ice. Teivel was hurled back, slapping against the wall.

Just then, two of the Golden Watchers came, piercing their swords towards his abdomen and chest. Teivel had no time to dodge, no time to react in a spell to defend. With both arms, he lifted his Scimitar, managing to parry the attack on his chest, allowing the other sword to puncture his gut.

He winced but used the terrible force that echoed off his scimitar to propel him through the wall, tasting the debris tracing across his lips. The pain was an inconsequence of the freedom he'd gained.

"It's not over yet," said Syris, flitting through the gaps of debris before he had a chance to fall. She was before him or rather behind him, her dagger piercing through the spine with great and terrible precision.

The Defiled One expression contorted as a horrid electrical charge exploded from out of the edge of her blade.

"Bitch!" He cried, feeling the horrible electrical discharge came lashing at his flesh. Syris twisted her blade in tandem, seeking to spill his entrails, failing as a vile miasma came seeping out of his body.

A faint numbing treaded along the fingers, entering through the pores and attacking the nerves.

Syris slid back, her dagger tracing several luminous arcs through the air, hurling them toward the Defiled One. Teivel exploded with mana, lunging to his left, when he saw several arcs suddenly shatter into nodes, leaving behind the magical sigil where he'd dodged.

[Gravity Well]

With no time to lift his leg once more, Teivel felt the off sensation of something seeking to tear his flesh from his body. Stones, debris, and decor all came hurdling toward the buzzing Gravity Sigil.

"Nasty little bitch! You're quite the Sorcerer," Teivel shouted, resisting the spell by plunging his sword into the ground while the others began chanting their own spell.

And thought,' This wasn't a winnable battle. I underestimated this one. Her speed is terrifying. Not to mention the Watchers… I should have killed the one from Heaven Gate first."

He tsked and lazily glanced towards Syris, "We'll meet again, little lady." And in a wordless spell, a scarlet glow embodied the Defiled One like a star, fading away to nothingness.

'Teleportation?' Syris wondered, shaking her head, unable to sense a disturbance within the Space. She slid her dagger back into her scabbard before glancing at her numb fingers. They were turning black.

"Allow me," Said Ariane, approaching her with guarded eyes, surveying her surroundings. "It looks like a devil poisoning."

"What about Yalivor Sadu?"

"Him?" Ariane glanced over at him in surprise, observing the way his severed arm turned into water, slowly beginning to climb over where his arm once was. Moments later, Yalivor Sadu was whole once more. Aside from his ashen complexion, he looked perfectly fine.

'Fascinating." Syris cried. "Can you even die?"

Yalivor Sadu didn't entertain a response. "So he got away. Could the Watchers not find him?"

Ariane, who had begun tending to the strange poison along Syris's fingers, nodded. " Probably. But you were down, and Syris is poisoned. I'd rather tend to the injured than try to hunt down someone who seems proficient in stealth." She signaled to the two Watchers, allowing them to aid her in drawing out the strange black fluid from Syris's pores.

The poison bore no distinctive scent, but the instant it dropped from her fingers onto the ground, it began to sizzle at the stone.

"What in the… Who the Hell was that!" Vynn shouted, taking a few steps back.

At the sight of Vynn, Syris resisted the urge to lament, slowly losing color with the enormous drain on her Three Circles. She allowed Ariane to do as she may, unable to even heal herself.

"Can you take me to Altair?"

Ariane looked up at her. "Why?"

"I know he won't betray me."

***

Reina was looking rather vexed, leaning on her palm at the sight of the ashen Syris, Ariane, Yalivor Sadu, Ragnar, Zola, and the others outside his door. They could all see him covered in bandages, pale beneath the sheets, lightly snoring.

"I get Syris and Zola being here. But why are the rest of you here?"

"Protection," said Ariane.

"I don't doubt you all slaughtered all your men in cold blood. I'm sure there are hundreds in total left," said Ren coldly, as a matter of fact. "You have protection."

From the looks everyone was giving her, no one denied it.

Especially Zola, who said, "I've got a thousand men left. The rest Ryzar told to retreat while sacrificing those that wouldn't survive the trip home with all the demons straggling about."

The others looked at her strangely but said nothing of it.

"H-H-How is he?"

"Recovering. It should take a few days, maybe hours," said Ren, sliding her gaze toward the Ironblood. Her eyes glowed with thought, measuring some incalculable seam in space. Syris had explained much of all that happened, but something was rattling through her mind.

The scar along Altair's palm. Of all the wounds, burned flesh gashes along his skin had all but begun to heal… yet that particular scar remained.

'A blood curse,' she'd remembered Tasha saying.

Reina's fingers drummed across her prince's chest, matching the rhythm of his heart, thinking…thinking.

"Ren?" said Syris, noticing her absent mind.

"Oh… Yeah. Right, I was in the middle of a conversation. Yes. You guys can stay, but only Syris, Zola, and Ariane are allowed in here. The rest must leave."

There was a bit of grumbling amongst the Lords when Vynn snapped, "Why just the women? Why not everyone? Isn't there power in numbers?"

"Ariane has about two hundred Watchers. Why would I need you?" Ren questioned, baring down on the young lord, much like a king onto his subject. The arrogance in her voice dancing along the hairs of everyone's neck.

"You think that is wise?" said Ragnar. "Vynn is right. The more we—-"

"I don't trust you. Nor do I know any of you. Ariane gets a pass because she's useful. And let's be honest. Do you have a say in this matter?"

Ragnar went red. "Reina, think this through! This isn't the time to—-"

"I'd heard Time Lords were smart." Reina's scarlet eyes narrowed dangerously. "Do you think it's wise to argue? Especially with me after we were betrayed?"

A sort of grim line was drawn in the dirt. Ren didn't have much use for Ragnar or any of the other lords after Altair manipulated them into sacrificing their people. The Ninth Circle's was still fighting, each of them currently in a Spatial Isolation in order to secure the safety of their young masters. They had served their usefulness. And right now, without a Spirit Domain, they were a liability.

"It's because of the betrayal that we—"

'That is enough," said Yalivor Sadu calmly. He glanced at the sleeping Altair and then Reina, acting like his guardian in his defenseless state. He understood her intention and had nothing more to say. "There are other rooms within the Southern Tower. We'll take those rooms."

"That's bullshit!" Shouted Vynn. "Are we really going to listen to some bitch!"

Syris lifted her drowsy eyes towards Vynn. She wondered what manner of fool he was unable to see what was right in front of him.

The air had been so pungent with blood, yet none of it came from their bodies, much less Altairs. Syris had quite the understanding of blood spells and knew of its danger.

'Reina was poised for attack the instant we entered the South Tower," Syris thought, sensing the density of blood spiraling into a mist.

"Drop it, Vynn," Yalivor Sadu commanded

But his words fell on deft ears. Vynn pressed out his chest and said, "What power do you have to command what I do?" His eyes lowered to her bosom and curvy waist. "You are just Altair's woman. Your—"

"Are you done?" Ren said, lifting herself off the bed, conjuring 'Ice' that was slowly losing its azure luster.

As if the blade was soaked in blood, it grew red, bleeding a cardinal radiance.

Whatever words Vynn wanted to deliver were halted. Burdon, by premonition, lashing out at his mind like a whip, seeking to draw him away. Images of death haunted the subconscious, sending tremors running up his arm. Discover stories at mvl

Yalivor Sadu left then, seeing his words were wasted. Reina had allowed them much. He could see the shadow of Tasha on the balcony listening. And had quite the inkling that Ariane would side with Reina should the need arise.

Zaros did the same, followed by Ragnar, seeing negotiations begin to break down most unfavorably. They sighed, leaving Vynn all alone.

The Young Lord chewed his lip at the sight of the loss of allies. And grinned, playing off his offense. "Fine… you win. I was merely testing how loyal you were."

Ren tilted her head, "You were?"

"Of course," said Vynn, turning around. "I was—"

He stopped halfway through, looking down at the greatsword that had punctured his chest, piercing through his ribs and heart alike, blazing with emerald black flames. Reina leaned forward, pushing her sword deeper in."I know your God, father, or whoever is watching us right now… So I'll make them watch.

I'll show them how I carve you up before annihilating your soul… If you think a pathetic insect like you has the right to insult me, a Nephilim of Heaven and Hell, let this be an eternal reminder. I, Reina Blackwood, fear no one."

Globs of blood poured form out of Vynn's throat, down his lips. He mumbled inaudibly, dropping to his knee.

'F-F-F-F'

Just then, Golden Light came from the skies in a pillar of light bathing the castle in a brilliance, concentrated around Vynn.

But Reina only shook her head, "It won't work. The Soul Art, Necrotic Flames, was created by Lord Mephistopheles, the Eight Monarch of Hell, to combat the Angels Sacred Flame. It can't be healed by just any God." She lifted her bloody eyes towards the skies, a dangerous glint penetrating through the heavens. Carrying a dreadful sense of warning towards the unknown.

She was glaring at the gods, to those seeking their deaths.

"I am the Nephilim, Reina Blackwood. If you seek war. Our House will be more than willing to accept."