Gilded Serpents

Chapter Forty-Three: For Selphena of Carnage

Home.

Please let me go home.

The golden blade clashed against my armor, sending magic sparks into the air. Another blow came at my side from behind, as the mace forced me to the ground, digging my knees into the dirt and scattering grass into the air. I held my weapon in front of my face, defending as I clawed backwards, chest pounding in pain as my heels dug deeper, struggling to find traction on the slippery ground. There was a crash from above as a silver blade slashed between the golden armor in front of me, chest plate falling to the ground. A hand appeared from between the crowd of bodies, reaching for the now-exposed magic. But, before the misty cloud could reach their lungs, another golden blade soared from above, taking the outstretched hand with it upon impact. It rolled on the ground in front of me with a haunting thump.

I staggered backwards off the ground, ears ringing and dulling me to the chaos of sounds thundering all around. I lifted myself up, catching my breath as I scanned my surroundings. It seemed for every red caped knight we were lucky to absorb, three more would take their place.

I turned, stumbling into what looked to be a clearing in the crowd, only to find the fallen copper body of the wyvern, magicked body still warm and steaming in the morning air. I took the chance to dive forward and underneath its bent black leather wing, desperate to catch my breath and gather myself.

As I sat, crumbled in the leathery shade, knees to my chest, I watched the golden feet dance with leather boots from below the wings arch. Back and forth, back and forth, until there was a scream, and the old pair of leather boots fell backwards. There, in the dirt before me was the kind old root seller, glassy eyes staring back at me through the darkness, unmoving.

No need to repay me. Just have my back if you see me out there.

I let out a scream of frustration, rushing forward at the golden boots from under the wing's arch, and pushing the armored body with all the force I could gather. There was a thunderous impact as the Halmore armor clashed against the golden steel, and both of our bodies flew into the ground with a clamor.

The fire in my chest burned brighter than it had ever before as I found myself on top of the knight, sharp armored knees pinning his arms to his sides. With a scream, I lifted the helmet off his sweaty, reddened head. His brown eyes bore into me as he cursed and spat at me, kicking his legs to escape. I placed both my hands on the sides of his face. I was still screaming.

Then, something strange happened.

Instead of the automatic transformation into white mist, I felt a painful familiar pang of pain trickle through my blackened left palm. I froze. The angered eyes turned suddenly afraid, and Selphena's soldier began to buck wildly under the weight of my armor.

You can really make him suffer.

I braved a quick glance behind me to see the back of the old woman's head, gray and matted hair on the ground. Her hand still grasped a long, well-worn blade at her side. She still wore a heavy coat over silver, broken armor. A life spent fighting, surviving, hiding away. What had she done to deserve this end?

What did she do so wrong to deserve slaughter?

And before I knew it, the kindle inside of my core began to boil, magma hot, as the pain shot through my palms. Every fiery frightened tear, every shaking and defenseless mess I've ever been, every stinging slap to the side of my face, all of the pain blackened the magic of my hands as I pulled and stabbed beneath his skin. I was blinded with pain, burning through my arms and body, as the face beneath me began to bubble then slither away into tiny fragments and crawl beneath my shaking fingertips. The pooled magic stayed there, swirling gnats in wait beneath me where the knight once lay. I froze, staring into the pool of black, suspended like ink in water, beneath me.