Dodge.
I spy Silver and Güthric last. They fight back to back, Crusaders and demons closing in on them. Güthric uses his hulking body to shield Silver from the demons that would otherwise lunge at her. His mace is no match for their decaying bones.
But horror pierces through me when I watch one of the Crusaders heave his sword into Silver’s leg. I yell out for her as she falls.
Güthric, no more than a yard away from her, turns around and sees it all. Before the Crusader can deliver a killing blow, Güthric charges the man. His mace pulverizes the man’s weapon arm with a single blow, the thing dangling limp at his side like an uncooked loaf of bread. The man screams, he pleads, even as Güthric pummels his skull until there is nothing left of him.
My screams fill the space of his as Alphonse slices through my hand, the one clenched around my dagger. The blade drops, a pool of blood gushing atop it.
I cradle the flayed thing against my chest and as I shriek, I keep my eyes locked on Alphonse’s. Only wickedness reflects there. He truly enjoys this. Seeing me suffer. If I ever had an ounce of empathy toward him, I lose it now. I have tolerated his hatred for long enough.
My lips bunch together, my nostrils flaring while rage consumes me. It is as black as the night, as wrathful as the depths of a demon’s eyes. It knows only death.
Fury erupts from my lungs, a rageful scream calling to the sky. The Shadowthorn darkens, the clouds shifting far above us to do my bidding. A low rumble of thunder sounds in the air, and Alphonse blanches. He lowers his blade, realization setting in.
“Wait. Halira, please,” he begs, becoming every inch the sniveling child that I had been back when he was the one who held the power.
With slow strides, I advance on him, each step causing him to stagger backward. He holds his hands out.
“Please. Don’t. I’ll—”
Nothing that can come from his lips next matters. The churning darkness of my mind becomes our very surroundings. The battle slows behind us, or perhaps is swept away from us so that only we remain. Alphonse and I. Years of sorrow and pain and misery. My moment to correct it all.
The darkness flashes. A sizzling bolt of revenge shoots down from the black sky and spikes through Alphonse’s chest. The impact sends him flying, his body bright and crackling with the charge of a hundred lightning bolts. He seizes, only for a moment, before justice takes its hold on him, and his eyelids fall limp.
Like a strong wind blows overhead, the dark clouds part. The grey sunlight filters back into the Shadowthorn and illuminates the carnage all around us. The demons have all been slain. A few Crusaders have fallen, but most still stand, watching me with horror.
To my surprise and relief, I find that all of my friends are still breathing, but Silver is on the ground, her pained expression reminding me of the venom scorching through my veins and the lethargy ravaging my muscles.
The moment my awareness returns to my body, I crash to the ground beside my cousin.
Death Becoming
Shadowthorn
“Halira!”
Dimitri’s scream booms, colliding with the ringing of my ears in an off-putting cacophony of panic. My head thrums from my painful landing, but not as mightily as my heart. I’ve seen what happens to those who succumb to demon wounds. If the gash isn’t deep enough to cause someone to bleed-out, the venom will finish what the demon started.
I can almost feel the sludge sliding through my veins as it curdles my blood to necro-ink, until I am nothing but a sepulchral body of waste and death.
Dimitri crashes to his knees beside me. He jerks me into his arm, his hand pressed to my abdomen. He knows as well as I do that it’s no use. Staunching any of the blood is futile now.
The others draw toward one another, their hushed voices hurried with strategy. I feel their close presence, can sense their worried glances, but they keep their distance, giving me and Dimitri a moment to say our goodbyes.
He presses his forehead to mine, the pain in his expression shielded from everyone but me.
“I’m sorry,” he sputters, the grip on his emotions slipping. “I shouldn’t have helped bring you here.”
“I would’ve come here if you’d helped me or not.” Wincing through the dark pain coiling around my heart, I reach up to cup his smooth cheek. “At least this way, we get to say goodbye.”
A crystal tear splashes on my cheek and I open my eyes to gaze up into his. In all the years we spent together, even as danger lurked around our homes and our families were taken away from us, even as we enlisted in the Shadow Crusade, a life we knew would be short and dangerous, I never actually believed it would end like this.
“It’s not supposed to end this way,” he says, as if he can hear my thoughts.
Behind us, I hear my sister ask if there’s a cure, all the while maintaining her composure and the calculated way in which she approaches every problem.
“I know,” I tell Dimitri, not wanting to hear my uncle break her heart. “But it is.”
We stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, simply breathing in the warmth of one another. Even with the bouts of pain that trample over me from time to time, I find peace. If I am to die, at least it will be in the arms of the man I love. It reminds me of my parents, and for the first time since their deaths, I’m able to be grateful that they died together, even if I wasn’t able to be there with them.
“We have to go now,” I overhear Adrien saying. “All of us.”
When Dimitri looks up, I realize my uncle is hovering over us.
“I’m not leaving her alone,” Dimitri growls.
“I’m not asking you to,” Adrien says gently. “With the scent of fresh blood in the air, demons will flood the area. We must leave and put as much distance between us and here as we can.”
My frightened eyes find my uncle’s. The thought of being left behind with the dead—even if I’m dying myself—is too terrifying to consider. I don’t want to die alone. I don’t want to die without Dimitri.
My uncle, understanding my hastened breathing, puts his hand on my shoulder. “We’re not leaving you, niece. Your family will be with you.”
He gestures behind him to my watchful sister and aunt, then narrows his eyes on Dimitri.
“If you’d prefer to return to your life in Arcathain, now is your chance. The Crusaders”—he bobs his head behind him—“they’ll be leaving soon. You fought alongside them. They respect you, I can see it in their eyes. They’ll vouch for you before the Magistrate. With his son gone…I doubt he had knowledge of your relationship with Halira, and therefore he’ll have no reason to have doubts about you anyway.”
Dimitri’s expression hardens. “He could blame me for Alphonse’s death.”
Adrien inclines his head. “He might. But that is not the choice you face. Do you want to chance your life in the Shadowthorn with us, or in Arcathain with the Crusaders?”
Dimitri purses his lips together. He looks back behind Adrien to the three remaining Crusaders. I don’t recognize them, but I see the familiar way in which they watch him, and I know that the male dormitory was a mixed bunk of recruits and Crusaders, so the chances of him knowing these burly fellows is at least not completely impossible.