Chapter 19

Nineteen

T he guards hauled Aric and Malekith to their feet, their shackles clanking as they were dragged from the cells. Aric tried to catch Malekith's eye, but his expression was shuttered, his mask of calm firmly in place. With a sinking feeling, Aric realized that Malekith was once again playing his cards close to his chest, leaving Aric to face whatever lay ahead unprepared.

They were escorted through the winding corridors of the former ward station, the scent of blood and sulfur hanging heavy in the air. The demon guards moved with purpose, but there was an undercurrent of tension rippling through their ranks. The same uncertainty that had plagued Aric in his cell now seemed to be infecting the entire fortress.

They were brought once more before the demon court, Sovereign Zaxos's obsidian throne looming in the center of the chamber. The ancient demon was a figure of raw power and malevolence, his eyes blazing with golden fire as he regarded them. Zaxos said nothing as he rose from his throne, but his voice echoed in the minds of all who heard him as he spoke.

"You have both been found wanting," Zaxos said, his words a thunderclap in the hushed chamber. "But before I pass final judgment, there is one last trial to be faced."

Tthe court erupted into murmurs and shouts. "Another trial?" Aric cried. "But you promised?—"

"I promised nothing. I merely offered you an opportunity. And you have done well thus far, but there is more you must prove, little mage." Zaxos bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Will you take this chance, or shall I give you over to my torturers? They've been terribly impatient to get their hands on such tender flesh."

Aric stared at him a minute longer before finally lowering his head. Vizra's face contorted with fury, while Sylthris merely smiled, her dark eyes glittering. But Aric ignored them all, his gaze fixed on Malekith.

In the tense silence, they exchanged a look, and in that brief moment, Aric understood. Malekith's loyalty was still in question, but he had a plan. Aric had to trust that Malekith knew what he was doing, that he could guide them safely through whatever this final trial might be.

"The final trial will test your loyalty to the demon realm," Zaxos said, his voice echoing through the chamber. "A loyalty that has thus far been called into question. But fear not, little mage. The path to redemption is still open to you."

Aric's heart sank at the ominous words. Aric wanted to reach out to Malekith, to offer some kind of reassurance, but he dared not risk it. Malekith had a plan, of that much Aric was certain. But what that plan might be, and how Aric fit into it, remained a mystery.

"What form will this trial take, Sovereign?" Malekith asked.

Zaxos's eyes gleamed with amusement as he looked at Malekith. "You will fight to prove your loyalty to me. To the death."

Aric's blood turned to ice in his veins. "No," he whispered, the word torn from him. "No, I won't do it. I won't kill him."

Malekith glanced toward Aric, and Aric thought he saw a flash of something in those dark eyes. Regret, maybe. Sadness. But it was gone before he could be sure, and Malekith's mask was firmly back in place.

"A noble sentiment, little mage," Zaxos said. "But one that will cost you dearly if you cannot prove your loyalty in this way. Think carefully, for your answer will determine the course of your future."

Aric's hands clenched into fists at his sides. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. "I—I won't kill him," he said, the words tasting like ashes on his tongue.

Malekith hoisted his chin, cutting a sharp gaze toward Aric. "Then it will be an easy victory for me." He swept into a low bow. "I will do as you command, Sovereign."

Aric's eyes blazed with silent fury, but he said nothing.

The demon court erupted into shouts and howls, the courtiers calling for blood. The guards hauled Aric and Malekith away, shoving them into separate cells in the bowels of the fortress. Aric's hands were shaking as he sank to the cold stone floor, and he wished more than anything for a touch, a word, a sign from Malekith that his plan was still in motion.

But there was only silence, and the cold certainty of the blade that awaited them both.

"Please," he said, his voice hoarse. "If I must fight, at least allow me to use my full magical power to defend myself."

A ripple of murmurs swept through the assembled demons. Sovereign Zaxos's golden eyes narrowed, considering.

Malekith stepped forward, his movements fluid and predatory. "Allow me to prepare my opponent for combat, Sovereign. It would hardly be a fair fight otherwise."

Zaxos nodded his assent, and Malekith approached Aric. Malekith's face was an impassive mask, betraying nothing of his thoughts or intentions. Aric tensed as Malekith drew near, unsure of what to expect.

In a swift, subtle motion, Malekith's fingers brushed against the magical bindings on Aric's wrists. A jolt of energy surged through Aric's body as the bindings dissolved, his full power rushing back like a tidal wave. He struggled to maintain his facade of weakness, keeping his expression neutral even as his magic sang through his veins.

Malekith leaned in close, his lips barely moving as he whispered words meant for Aric alone. "Show them what you can do, my star."

Aric stood at the edge of Drindal's main square, his pulse relentless in his ears. The once-familiar town center had been transformed into a grand arena, shimmering barriers of demon magic crackling in the air. These magical constructs would not only contain their battle but amplify it, ensuring every demon and human in attendance could witness the spectacle.

The crowd's excited whispers created a constant, low hum that set Aric's nerves on edge. He scanned the sea of faces—demons with their gleaming eyes and sharp teeth, humans with expressions ranging from fear to morbid curiosity. All of them waiting, hungry for the bloodshed to come.

Across the arena, Malekith stood tall and proud, every inch the demon prince. His dark eyes met Aric's, and Aric felt a jolt of electricity run through him. There was a plan here, he reminded himself. This was all part of some greater strategy that Malekith had set in motion.

But as Aric flexed his fingers, feeling his magic surge beneath his skin, doubt crept in. What if he had misunderstood? What if this truly was a fight to the death, and Malekith's whispered words had been nothing more than a cruel taunt?

The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with anticipation and the raw power of demon magic. Aric's own golden fire stirred within him, eager to be unleashed. He took a deep breath, centering himself as he'd been taught.

Sovereign Zaxos's voice boomed across the square, silencing the crowd. "Let the trial begin. Prove your loyalty, or face the consequences of your betrayal."

Aric's gaze locked with Malekith's once more. In that moment, he saw something flicker behind Malekith's carefully constructed mask—a hint of the connection they shared, of the trust they'd built. It was enough to steady Aric's resolve.

Aric nodded, and then turned to face Malekith, who stood at the opposite end of the arena, his dark eyes fixed on Aric. The connection between them crackled with energy, a current of understanding and trust that not even the most powerful of demon sorcerers could sever. Aric held tight to that bond as Malekith raised his hand in the air, giving the signal to begin.

Aric closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. His magic was a living thing inside him, a white-hot flame. He let it surge to the surface, filling every corner of his being with its searing light. With a wordless cry, he opened his eyes and thrust his hands forward, releasing the magic in a blinding wave of golden fire.

The crowd gasped as the flames shot toward Malekith with unprecedented force. Aric's power was roared through him, hungry and wild, and he struggled to keep it under control. It lashed out, tearing at the magical barriers that contained it, and for a brief, exhilarating moment, Aric allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, he could win.

But then Malekith was there, moving impossibly fast. He wove a spell with a flick of his fingers, and a curtain of shadow magic sprang up to intercept the flames. The two forces clashed and sputtered, the air thick with the scent of burning ozone.

Aric's pulse raced as he watched Malekith's form through the blinding conflagration. Malekith moved with a dancer's grace, his movements fluid and precise, and Aric struggled to focus, to see past the power of his magic and find the man he knew was lurking within.

The flames roared and crackled as they were slowly extinguished by the demon's shadow magic. Malekith's eyes never left Aric's, and in that gaze, Aric saw a flicker of something he couldn't quite name. Regret, maybe. Sadness. It was only a brief glimpse, and then Malekith's expression was once again a mask.

As the last of the flames died away, Aric's knees threatened to buckle beneath him. He'd poured everything he had into that first attack, and it hadn't been enough. Malekith stood unharmed, his dark eyes glinting in the firelight.

"You fight well, little mage," Malekith said, his voice carrying across the arena. "But you are still holding back. Let me show you what true power looks like."

Aric's blood ran cold. He'd given everything to that attack, and it had barely even touched Malekith. What hope did he have of winning this battle?

But Malekith was already moving, and Aric had no choice but to meet his advance. He conjured a wall of golden fire to intercept Malekith's oncoming attack, but Malekith simply flowed around it, his shadowy form twisting and bending with inhuman flexibility.

Aric launched a series of quick, staccato blasts of magical energy, but Malekith deflected them with casual ease. He was toying with Aric, and the realization only fueled Aric's frustration. He needed to focus.

Aric conjured a blinding flash of light, momentarily disorienting Malekith. He followed up with a surge of golden flames, scorching his own skin. Malekith danced away from the worst of it, but Aric could see the edges of his dark robes curling and blackening from the heat.

"You're holding back," Malekith said in a low, rumbling taunt. "I can feel it. Let go, my star. Show me your true power."

Aric hesitated, the words striking a chord deep within him. Malekith was right. He'd been trying to control his magic, to keep it from spiraling out of bounds.

But there was no more time for doubt. Malekith was closing in, his form a dark blur in the midst of the flames. Aric drew in a deep breath, and with it, all the fear and uncertainty that had been weighing him down. He focused on the bond between them, the thread of connection no cruel proclamation from the Sovereign could end. And then, with a primal scream, he let the magic loose.

The flames that erupted from Aric's hands were blinding, a searing nova of golden fire. The air itself seemed to ignite as they licked toward Malekith with unstoppable force. Aric's vision swam, the world reduced to the all-consuming light and heat. He was dimly aware of the crowd's screams, of the heat of the flames licking at his own skin. But through it all, he held tight to the magic, letting it guide his movements, his instincts.

The flames surged around Malekith, a wall of fire and heat that should have incinerated him where he stood. But then Malekith moved, and with a casual gesture, he unraveled the flames that had surrounded him. Aric's eyes widened in disbelief as he watched Malekith weave his own magic into the flames, bending them to his will.

It was a dance, a deadly, intricate ballet of power and skill. Malekith moved with a fluid grace that belied his size, every movement precise and purposeful. He made it look effortless, but Aric could feel the raw power thrumming beneath the surface. Malekith was holding back, too, and Aric knew that if Malekith truly unleashed his full strength, Aric wouldn't stand a chance.

From the sidelines, it must have looked like a fierce duel, the two of them evenly matched. But Aric was starting to discern the patterns now, the subtle feints and openings that Malekith was allowing. He was guiding Aric, leading him down a path of Malekith's choosing.

Aric tried to find a way through Malekith's defenses. He couldn't outmuscle Malekith, but maybe he could outsmart him. Aric launched a volley of magical arrows, but he knew even before they left his fingertips that Malekith would deflect them. It was a feint, a distraction from the true attack that Aric had already set in motion.

Then Malekith's counterattack took shape. It was a spell Aric knew well, one he'd used countless times in training—a lance of pure, condensed magical energy that could pierce through almost any defense. But then Malekith's magic wove around it, a shroud of darkness that twisted at the air. The spell that should have been a simple attack was suddenly so much more. It was a trap, a snare that ensnared Aric's own magic and threatened to crush him with its weight.

Aric's mind raced as he sought a way out. He couldn't match Malekith's power head-on, but maybe he could use Malekith's own attack against him. With a quick, sharp gesture, Aric unraveled the threads of Malekith's magic, siphoning off the spell's energy and shaping it into a shield that deflected the attack back toward its source.

Malekith's eyes widened in surprise as his own spell bore down on him. He twisted away, but the attack still grazed his side, leaving a dark, smoking gash in his pale flesh.

"A clever move," Malekith said. "But can you sustain it?"

And then he was moving again, the shadows swallowing him up as he vanished from sight.

Aric scanned the arena, searching for any sign of Malekith's presence. Malekith was right; he'd been holding back, afraid to fully embrace his power. But no longer. If he was going to survive this, he needed to trust in himself, in the magic that flowed through him and bound him Malekith.

Aric closed his eyes and let his magic guide him. He felt the flames within him, the raw, untamed power that was his to command. He reached for the shadows, too, the cool, inky darkness that Malekith had taught him to shape. And then he wove them together, a dance of fire and night that was all his own.

The darkness swirled around him, loping like a wolf.. The flames of his magic lanced out into the night, turning the darkness into searing blades that cut through the air. He felt a surge of exhilaration as the shadows obeyed him, as the very fabric of reality bent to his will.

The duel raged on, a storm of fire and darkness that consumed the arena. Aric's muscles ached with the effort of maintaining the spells, his skin slick with sweat as he strained to wield his magic to its fullest. He moved on instinct now, his mind and body one with the flames that surrounded him. The heat and light of it threatened to consume him, but he held tight to the thread of control that he'd woven.

Malekith was a dark shadow at the edge of the flames, his form flickering in and out of sight as he wove his own magic. The crowd's excited cries washed over Aric in a distant wave. The only thing that mattered was the man before him, the demon prince who moved with a deadly finality.

Aric's heart pounded in his ears as he launched another volley, each one honing in on Malekith's position. But Malekith was ready for him, and sent them awry, turning them to harmless sparks of light. Aric pressed the attack, the flames surging toward Malekith with blinding intensity.Yet Malekith wove through the flames with inhuman speed. He launched a counterattack, a lance of shadow that pierced the air with a sickening sound.

Aric danced out of the way at the last possible moment, the shadow grazing his side. He hissed in pain as the darkness seared his skin, but he didn't dare slow down. He couldn't give Malekith an opening. He conjured a wreath of flame to shield himself, the heat of it searing his face as he huddled behind the barrier.

"You're getting there," Malekith said, cutting through the roar of the flames. "But you can do better. I know you can."

Aric grunted at the challenge in those words. He was giving everything he had, tapping into reserves of magic and willpower he didn't know he possessed. But Malekith was right. He was still holding back, still afraid to fully wield the power that surged within him.

Aric summoned the magic to his fingertips. The flames danced around him, a living, breathing extension of himself. He felt the shadows at the edges of his vision, the cool darkness that Malekith had shown him how to shape. He wove them together, the two elements of his magic blending and merging until they were one.

The flames surged outward, a torrent of fire and light that filled the arena. Aric's vision swam with color as the flames danced before his eyes. He felt a surge of triumph as the crowd's cries reached a fever pitch, but he forced himself to focus. He searched for the telltale flicker of shadow that would signal Malekith's approach.

And then he was there, at the edge of the flames, his dark eyes burning with a fierce light. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a brief moment, Aric allowed himself to hope.

But as Aric's hand closed around Malekith's throat, he knew it was over. Malekith's skin was hot and slick with sweat, his pulse thundering beneath Aric's palm. Malekith's eyes locked with his, and for a brief, fleeting moment, Aric saw something raw and unguarded in them. Something that made his breath catch in his throat, and his grip waver for just an instant.

Malekith's smile widened, the look in his eyes daring Aric to follow through.

Aric's hold on Malekith's throat crumbled to nothing as he stumbled back, his heart pounding in his ears. "I can't," he said, all but sinking to his knees. "I won't become like you."

Malekith straightened, his hand coming up to his throat as he coughed, his skin already knitting back together. "A shame," he said, his tone as cold as Aric's skin was burned. "You might have survived a little longer."

Before Aric could respond, a thunderous roar shattered the air, silencing the crowd and freezing both combatants in place. Aric's heart leapt into his throat as he looked up to see Sovereign Zaxos rising to his feet on the viewing platform, his molten gold eyes blazing with fury.

"I tire of this treachery!" Zaxos bellowed, his voice reverberating through the arena. "Kill them both!"

In an instant, the world erupted into chaos. The air crackled with conflicting energies as demon guards and bloodthirsty spectators alike surged forward, their own magic flaring to life. Spells began to fly from all directions, a storm of deadly intent converging on the arena floor.

Aric's mind reeled, struggling to process the sudden shift. One moment, he'd been locked in an intricate dance with Malekith, and the next, they were facing annihilation. He felt a presence at his back and turned to find Malekith there, their shoulders pressed together as they faced the oncoming horde.

"Well," Malekith said, his voice tight with tension, "this wasn't quite how I imagined our dance ending."

Aric's throat was dry, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "Any brilliant ideas?" he asked, his eyes darting from one threat to the next as he tried to gauge which would reach them first.

A humorless chuckle escaped Malekith's lips. "Stay alive?"

With that, the world exploded into a maelstrom of magic and violence. Aric's hands moved of their own accord, weaving spells faster than he'd ever managed before. Golden fire poured from his fingertips, meeting the first wave of attacks head-on. He felt Malekith's magic surge behind him, shadows lashing out to ensnare their assailants.

Aric's mind raced, trying to formulate a plan even as he fought for his life. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and trapped in an arena with no easy escape. The raw power emanating from Sovereign Zaxos was suffocating, a constant reminder of the impossible odds they faced.

Malekith's mind was already racing with possibilities, his tactical instincts honed sharp in the face of danger. "Combine your fire with my shadows," he shouted over the din of battle, his voice barely rising above the howl of the flames and the shouts of their enemies. "Weave them together, a shield, not a wall."

Aric's eyes widened in understanding, and he nodded, his movements syncing with Malekith's as they worked in tandem. With a word of power, Aric summoned a wall of flames, while Malekith wove his shadows through them, the two elements merging and blending at their command. The resulting vortex of golden fire and inky darkness created a temporary shield against the onslaught of attacks that were raining down on them from all sides.

"Keep it moving." Malekith poured more of his magic into the shield. "Don't let them get a lock on it."

Aric's magic was threatening to unravel as he strained to hold the shield together. He forced himself to focus, to draw on the reserves of magic that he knew were still untapped. The shield swirled and shifted in response to his will, the flames and shadows dancing in a hypnotic pattern that defied logic.

The demons and spectators pressed in around them, their attacks relentless, but the shield held, their blended torrent of magic consuming everything that came too close. Malekith guided Aric's movements with a steady hand on his back, his presence a grounding force in the chaos. They moved as one, anticipating each other's needs and responding to the ebb and flow of the battle around them.

But even with Malekith's guidance, Aric knew they couldn't hold out forever. The demons vastly outnumbered them, and Sovereign Zaxos's power loomed over the arena like a storm cloud. They needed a way out, an opening that would allow them to escape the trap that had been set for them.

Aric's muscles burned with exertion as he maintained the swirling shield of fire and shadow. His eyes darted to Malekith, whose face was a mask of intense concentration. Suddenly, Malekith's gaze sharpened, focusing on a point in the distance.

"When I give the signal, run for that corner," Malekith said, his voice low and urgent. He jerked his chin toward the eastern edge of the arena. "Don't hesitate, don't look back. Understand?"

Aric's heart leapt into his throat. He nodded, unable to form words as the implications of Malekith's plan crashed over him. This was it – their one chance at escape.

Malekith took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he gathered his power. The air around him seemed to thicken, darkness coalescing into writhing tendrils that danced at his fingertips. Aric felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his skin prickling with the raw energy Malekith was channeling.

With a guttural cry that sent shivers down Aric's spine, Malekith released the spell. A wave of impenetrable darkness swept across the arena, extinguishing every light and plunging the world into an inky void. Aric's breath caught in his throat as the blackness engulfed him, cutting off all sight and sound.

"Now!" Malekith's shout pierced through the darkness, jolting Aric into action. For a heartbeat, he hesitated, torn between the promise of escape and the thought of leaving Malekith behind. But before he could voice his doubts, Malekith's hand found him in the darkness, shoving him roughly towards their planned exit.

"Go!" Malekith roared, his voice already turning away, preparing to face the oncoming horde.

Aric's heart clenched, but he forced his feet to move. He sprinted towards the eastern corner of the arena, the sounds of Malekith's fierce battle echoing behind him. The clash of magic and Malekith's defiant cries spurred him on, each step carrying him further from the man who had become far more than just his captor.

As he neared the weak point in the barrier, Aric's newly acquired demon magic thrummed beneath his skin. He could sense the structure of the magical field, its intricate weave of power now visible to his enhanced perception. Without breaking stride, he gathered his magic, weaving together strands of his golden fire with the shadow techniques Malekith had taught him.

The barrier loomed before him, an invisible wall of pure energy. Aric didn't slow down. Instead, he thrust his hands forward, channeling every ounce of power he could muster. Golden flames erupted from his fingertips, intertwining with tendrils of inky darkness. The conflicting energies writhed and twisted together, forming a lance of raw magical force that struck the barrier head-on.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, a hole tore open in the magical field. Aric felt the backlash of power wash over him, nearly knocking him off his feet. But he pushed through, his determination fueled by the desperate need to escape and the ache of leaving Malekith behind.

As he stumbled through the opening, the sounds of battle faded behind him, replaced by the pounding of his own heart and the ragged gasps of his breath. Aric didn't look back. He couldn't. If he did, he wasn't sure he'd have the strength to keep running.

Aric paused at the threshold, his heart a lead weight in his chest. The narrow streets of Drindal stretched out before him, a hellscape of devastation and death. The demon army had laid waste to the town, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Buildings smoldered, their walls blackened and charred. The stench of smoke and blood hung heavy in the air, threatening to choke him.

But there was no time to dwell on the devastation. Already, he could hear the shouts of the demon soldiers as they fanned out in search of the human survivors. Aric's instincts screamed at him to run, to find cover and stay out of sight. But he forced himself to move, to push down the wave of grief and guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.

With a final glance back at the arena, he spotted a figure moving in the darkness, a lone shadow against the roiling storm of magic and steel. Malekith. He was still fighting, still holding off the demon horde with a ferocity that was both beautiful and terrible to behold.

Their eyes met across the distance, and in that fleeting moment, a world of unspoken emotions passed between them. Gratitude, and grief, and a fierce, unrelenting hope. Malekith's lips moved, forming a silent word, and Aric knew what it was. Go.

The barrier was closing, the magical threads knitting themselves back together. With a sob caught in his throat, Aric turned away, and leapt through the opening.

He tumbled out into the streets of Drindal, the sounds of battle fading into the night.