Until Eternity // An Eternals Story

Epilogue

The man flew with grim determination. 

The frigid air stung his skin, droplets of frozen rain pelting his cheeks and freezing his eyebrows.

He flew on.

Arching through barren trees, vaulting over tsunamis of tumbling snow which threatened to crush him, and weaving between and beneath razor-sharp icicles. He was too slow on one particular turn and an icicle grazed his arm. It cut through cloth, cut through skin, and the man bled.

Still, he flew on.

He had only flown so fast once before; he tried not to remember, though, as the pain in his heart was still too great.

He wiped at something in his eye. A snowflake must have struck it.

The man at long last approached the house. He so dreaded this encounter that was soon to ensue, but he knew it needed to be done.

He had already failed her once. Never again would he make that same mistake.

He didn't bother with knocking on the door. He barged in.

Someone thrust him against the wall and he felt the prick of a blade against his throat. He blinked, but no retaliation rose in him. Not this time.

"Druig," came his gruff voice. The motion made his throat bob and the knife cut into his skin, eliciting a drip of blood. But, the man felt nothing. Not when all he could think of was her.

"I've been wanting to do this for a long, long time," Druig breathed hotly, his face pressed close to the man's. His fingers tightened around his knife. More blood flowed.

The man could feel his air supply beginning to run out, but still, he said nothing. He could only look into Druig's eyes, filled with so much hatred that they nearly burned the man where he stood.

He looked away.

"That's right," Druig laughed maniacally. "You always have been a coward. Now." Something shifted in the shorter man's expression, and a dark gleam emerged. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't slit your pretty little throat right here and relish as I spill your blood."

Finally, it was time for him to speak. His voice was raw, his tongue still frozen, but he managed to form the words that needed to be said. "I know where she is."

Druig blinked. The blade eased back, just a fraction. "What did you say?"

Ikaris gave him a meaningful glance, and Druig stepped back. Ikaris cleared his throat. "Arishem took her."

The knife clattered to the floor. Druig's shoulders, once so proud, so arrogant, slumped forward. He collapsed into a nearby chair, his eyes unfocused.

Ikaris knew that feeling well.

He didn't say anything as he watched Druig. He knew he needed a moment to collect himself, to allow the information Ikaris had just given him to sink in, and so he gave him that.

Finally, Druig lifted his pained eyes to Ikaris. When he spoke, his voice was weak and cowardly, like he regretted Ikaris ever coming and dredging up these emotions.  "Why are you here?"

Ikaris rubbed at the wound on his neck. Looked at Druig. "Because. You're going to help me get her back."