60. Mira
sixty
Mira
Shoulders back and chin high, I walk alone in the middle of the open street towards Yurghen. Sensing my bonds for comfort, my eyes scan the eerily empty section of the city where we tracked him only moments before. Where did he go?
Thick clouds roll into the late afternoon sky, darkening the city even more. Above, the souls still rain down, and demons continue to feast on them. But something new has appeared. Ghostly soldiers in gleaming armor float and fly through the sky in aerial battle formations. With spears and shields in hand, these ethereal warriors battle the demons from the Underworld. I watch as a small group of seven form a triangle shape and run off a particularly large demon who was about to bite into a milky soul drifting through the air.
Suddenly, a sneaky gust of wind carries with it the chilling echo of shrill laughter. A shiver races down my spine, but I hold firm, pushing against the fear. "Come on Yurghen," I holler against the wind, "I don't remember you being this much of a coward."
No response.
Suddenly, the ground under me trembles. Not small vibrations you'd expect from a distant explosion, but a sharp jolt, as if a giant below had just rolled over in its sleep. I stumble, nearly losing my balance as my toe catches on an overturned stone from a fallen building.
"Very graceful," a voice sneers from behind me.
I spin around, glaring at Yurghen and his little bald companion. He sniffs the air in my direction, sneering.
"Observant," I say dryly.
Yurghen's face is marred with scars and burns, a testament to our last encounter. He attempts to smile at me, but it twists his features into something grotesque and unsettling, while the rat-like faerie next to him silently watches with keen interest. Here I am, alone and surrounded by the enemy in an abandoned street covered in fallen debris, yet I feel a strange sense of exhilaration. This is where I'm meant to be; in the thick of things, fighting for my life.
"And your mates, dear? Where have they run off to?" he asks, head swinging side to side in a mock search. "I'm not so dense to believe they've sent you alone."
I shrug with feigned disinterest. "This is a trap, obviously."
"And what an excellent trap you've laid for me, dear Vessel. Come. Let us get this business over with."
Like black claws darting between us, his magic grabs me, wrapping around me like a lasso pulling me towards him as his Dampening Shield lands neatly on top of me, like a plastic wrap. My feet drag along the street, bumping over rocks and bricks as they go.
I let out a bored sigh as I draw near. "Don't you tire of the same old tricks, Yurghen?"
His eyes narrow, as if suddenly suspicious about what this supposed trap entails. His grip tightens, setting my nerves alight with the familiar sting of his magic. But I don't wince, let alone cry out, because I refuse to give him the satisfaction. And besides, pain is just another weapon. One that you can twist and wield if you've got the guts for it.
"I'm waiting," he says, the impatience in his tone betraying his cool facade.
With pleasure. I think, reaching out for my own power. It roars to life within me, a torrent of energy stronger than ever before, as if having four complete mate bonds deepened my magic like drilling a hole inside me. Turns out, we hit oil.
It spurts forth, bursting open the Shield like shattered glass. I rupture before him like a beacon of hope, vibrant red Chroma, like blood it pours out of me. His black bonds fall away, releasing me.
The little rat pixie wisely steps away until his back is pressed firmly against a wall. He stares in awe as my Chroma lashes Yurghen with misfortune. Once. Twice. Three times. I can barely believe my eyes, how strong my stream of magic is. It flows through me like a river.
It's the signal.
Brilliant Chroma beams burst forth from three different directions: Tairyn behind me, Cor'than ahead, and Callum above in a second-story window. Our streams intersect and merge, creating an unbreakable connection. The purple, green, and red hues swirl together in a dazzling display of unity.
His smug grin twists, bending into a grimace as our magic engulfs him. But then his eyes flicker, and something feral comes to life beneath his skin.
"Oh, a challenge," he growls, his voice twisting into a deep, rumbly growl that raises the hair on my arms.
The feral gleam in his eyes darkens, and the real battle begins.