Lights Out (Book 2 of the "Living Nightmare" series)

Chapter 6

It was the middle of the night. Stella knew she should be asleep, but instead she was sitting at Lance's side, his frog in her lap. It was completely silent in the cave.

Until a sharp gasp came from Lance, startling Stella. "Lance? Lance!"

She looked around in a panic, trying to figure out who could help. His breath was coming in short, rapid gasps, like a full-panic hyperventilation. 

"Stella," she spun around to see the man-dragon behind her, her magic translating his words. "I am the only one here who can save him."

"You are?"

"I can give my life source to him."

"But then you'll die!"

"Either I die or he dies!" The creature softened his voice. "The choice is clear. This will be my thanks to him."

Stella stepped aside. "Do what you must."

The man-dragon knelt and, grasping Lance's hands, began murmuring words Stella's magic couldn't translate. Power gathered in the air around them and a loud boom sounded, followed by a blinding light, forcing Stella to cover her eyes.

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Lance paced the floor of his new, Overworld base. It had been exactly five months and 11 days since his banishment and he was miserable. Voices and memories haunted him day and night, he was drinking too much, and to boot, his Void corruption kept sending shocks of pain through him. The drain on both his physical and mental aspects were becoming too much for him and he feared if he didn't do something, it would result in his death.

And as miserable as he was, he didn't want that.

With a sigh, he sat by his frog, taking a swig from the bottle in his hand. "Never thought I'd be driven to such a point of desperation. I know this is my own fault and all, but it's...well..."

Lance's thoughts trailed off and he jumped to his feet. He had only been up for a moment when his foot caught on a stone and he came crashing down, the bottle shattering in his hand. With a groan of pain, he rolled onto his back, tearing away the glove around the shard of broken glass in his palm.

With a his of pain, he ripped the it out, the shard slipping from his fingers when he saw his blood.

Black. Pure black.

Words Vordus had said hundreds of years ago entered Lance's mind: "According to legend, anyone with black blood has a black heart. And those who have a black heart can't love anyone. Not even themselves."

A choked sob left Lance's throat as he curled his fingers over his wound. A black heart was all he had left, wasn't it?

The horrible plague of his corruption began to burn again and the growl that erupted from his throat scared himself. He hadn't even sounded human...more like a monster...

"This," he whispered, forcing himself to his feet. "Has to stop." His spell book floated over to him and he lifted his hand above him, blood snaking around his wrist before sliding down his arm. "And if this is the only way to do it, so be it."

Power gathered at his fingertips. The book's pages began flipping back and forth as a blur as Lance clasped his hands at his chest, and when the power was at its peak, he threw his arms out. Drops of magic and blood scattered through the air.

A surge of pain shot through his entire body, forcing him to his knees. He was shaking, trying to breathe as the spell did it's work. He felt like he was being ripped into, feeling his Void powers sealed away deep into his soul. For only a moment, Lance saw his Void form suspended in mid-air, floating above  puddle of black blood.