Author Games: Underworld

Task Seven: The Finals - The Final Choice - Milo Chou Mein

He wondered if death always looked so painful. Bodies were strewn across the land, bent and broken. Mouth were left open in silent screams to the heavens, eyes clouded over with anguish. Jasminä and Janvier were among the bodies, fallen comrades who had deserved so much more than what they got. He would honor them, end this bloodshed and keep their vows for them. It was least he could do. 

The barbaric nature of his own disgusted him. He could see the remaining vampires and witches out of the corner of his eye. They were plotting, drawing back to lick their wounds but they would return soon. The wolves and humans were doing the same, although they were not quite as ready to resume their fight. The only forces that seemed to have grown were the defectors. There were twenty-two of them now, stronger and ready to end the suffering. 

With Aleksandr leading the way, the vampires and witches started forward, gliding over bodies with grim grace. They were going to strike while the wolves and humans were exposed. It was a brilliant tactic, although older than the books themselves. Milo wasn’t the only one noticed. Harvest, one of the last wolves, was on her feet and charging for Aleksandr the moment she saw him.

“Stop this,” Milo shouted. He shoved through his comrades, stumbled over bodies in order to stand in front of his former friend. They were almost the same height, which was an advantage.

“Get out of my way, defector,” Aleksandr snarled.

Milo didn’t budge, even when he felt Harvest’s breath on his neck. “This is unnecessary. There have been enough lives lost, Aleksandre. Compromise. There is room for all of us here.”

A mad cackle burst from Alek’s lips. “You’re mad, Milo. They are filth. I know your story and I know you feel the same way. Why are you protecting them?”

“Because they are just like us. We are not superior, nor are we animals,” Milo reasoned. But Alek was beyond reasoning. He lunged for Harvest, the bloodlust making his hands twitch. Milo stepped in front of Alek, knocking him back with a hard slap to the face. “Enough, Aleksandr!”

It was like pulling the pin from a grenade. Alek turned his anger on Milo instead of Harvest. He knocked Milo back, pinning him into the muddy, bloody ground. His hand crushed Milo’s throat, teeth bared in a horrible laugh. “We were built to survive, Milo. But if you don’t want us to, I suppose we can do without you.”

Milo clawed at Alek, struggling to shove the mad vampire off. In the end, Constantina saved him, barrelling into Alek with a force he never knew the small vampire had. The two went rolling off, ripping at one another. The rest of Alek’s forces rushed forward, knocking the defectors back into wolves and humans. The sounds of dying rose towards the heavens once again and the ground became slippery with blood.

It was hard to follow everything at once. He had lost sight of Constantina, although he had utter faith in her survival. She was a tough one. His defectors fought valiantly, desperately trying to change their brethren but it was like asking a mountain to move. Several defectors fell but they took several others with them. Milo moved through the fight with care, slashing at those who came after him. Although he wanted to avoid it, the destruction he left in his wake was virtually unavoidable. There could be no peace without bloodshed, it seemed.

“Milo! The wolves,” Constantina screamed. Her voice held an urgency that had him reeling about to locate her. But she wasn’t important. It was the wolves. They were being slaughtered left and right. There hadn’t been many to begin with but there were only six left. Harvest was among them, fighting like the devil, though her chest was heaving for breath. 

He surged forward, rallying several others to his side. They had to protect the last of the wolves. If they fell, then the humans would be wiped out. After that, the witches would fall and the vampires would live on. It couldn’t end like that. It would be a disaster.

“Harvest,” Milo said. He caught her attention easily, waving his hand until she saw him. “Please, let me help you. I can protect you!”

“I don’t need your protection, leech,” she snarled. There was a howl behind her as a wolf was ripped to pieces by three vampires. Another’s head was ripped off. Harvest watched helplessly, the pain evident in her eyes. 

Milo reached out to grab her arm, pull her out of the way. “Harvest, please!”

“Never. You vampires are all the same.” She knocked him back, prepared to tear his throat out. 

It was panic, he supposed. He wasn’t really afraid to die, although in that moment, he decided he wasn’t quite ready. He lashed out with his knife, felt the blood roll down his arms and splatter on his face. Harvest let out a pitiful whine before slumping over. Her weight was suddenly unbearable and he wriggled out from under her. 

She didn’t move, not even as her last two brothers were beheaded. Milo watched as the witches and vampires turned on the defectors and humans. It was with a heavy heart that he realized his vows had been in vain. He was keeping them for Janvier and Jasmina but it wasn’t working. They had gone so far but in the end, they had gone no where at all. It was the end.