Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 50 Point of No Return

Lyse sighed. He stood atop one of the many branches in the canopy, surrounded. In truth, he was never really concerned about making edible fruits during this journey on the Ashen Roads. Instead, he was worried about how precise he could construct these plants. He can admit to himself that he outdid it a little bit. He wasn't considering how big it could be, but it is sufficient when dealing with gods. No matter how persistent or powerful they may be, they still have mortal bodies with human tendencies. Besides, he knows his mother could perform far more impressive feats in her prime. This will buy him and Ryan enough time to get out of here.

Lyse felt rumbling. The snapping of tree branches. Burning. He grabbed his sword and leaped away as a spear shot straight through the wood where he was standing, completely severing the limb and sending it careening down. It was the spear she had used before, arcs of lightning firing from its tip as it sailed into the clouds.

"There you are, my love!" she burst from the canopy, another spear in hand as she launched it in his direction. He managed to deflect it. The lances disappeared and reappeared in her hands. They both landed on branches across from one another. She crossed the spears in front of her, a ghoulish smile spreading across her face as her eyes went wide with delight. "I love our engagement, but I much rather close quarters combat!"

When the X met a beam of lightning, which shot forward directly toward Lyse, he could act fast and drop from the branch as it was lit aflame by the impact. Instead, Lyse grabbed ahold of the many dangling grape vines and swung away. She was relentless, tearing her way through all he threw at her. He can't keep this up. And Areia knew this too. As many tricks as he can throw, she can plow through them. She does not tire, and her body is perfect. Her arsenal is boundless. If only Areia could relish the moment of his death by her own hands. But no, the Prime Noctus would not be pleased. Lyse Opal must be taken alive. How sad; she wished to make him her plaything. But she knows he is not the type to lie down so quickly. And she knows the longer this battle goes on, the better he shall become retaliating to her advances.

Then she felt something odd that made her guard completely change. She stopped herself on one of the tree branches, trying to put together this ominous feeling she was getting. This power, old power, far older than she or anything she has ever come upon.

What is this? She thought with shaking thoughts. This can not be of the gods.

"Hey!" she dodged as a pair of throwing knives whipped past her head. She turned to see another man land on the branch. He was lithe and slender with a moderately handsome face. His face was a mix of anger and apprehension. She would find such a man quite desirable prey, but she knew something was off about him. He pulled out a short sword and held it toward her. His glare was so passionate; he must have had a personal history with Talin.

"Who are you, dear boy?" she asked, pointing one of her spears at him. "And you better hope your answer satisfies me."

The man smirked, "I promise to tell you on your deathbed, sweetheart. But I believe my boss has plans with you."

The realization hit her harder than any blow. She thought Lyse had taken the retreat to devise a new strategy or control the tree from a safe distance. But she realized that the tree didn't attack her. In anger, she tossed her spear at the man, arcs of lightning firing off, but to her shock, the spear passed through him harmlessly. Ryan's illusion of himself flickered as it reformed from the slight disturbance, then shimmered away. Just an illusion. Instead, a sudden bright light burst from behind her. She could turn in time to see Lyse soaring through the air toward her. His sword raised up and glowed a fierce white light that chased away the sun's rays—almost blinding to look at. But that face. As before, he had been calm, subdued, and composed, showing little o no passion for the battle they partook in; now, there was that flash of intense hatred that she sought from him. And it was beautiful.