Seeker: Demon Killers [Fantasy/Action | Complete]

Chapter 50: All We Know is Falling

"Azyazel will be backing me up with Piricca," said Cimerus, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings through the eyes of all the Shifters in battle. Frostites continued to advance silently through the snow and ice. Cimerus bared furious teeth, which the weak light. "Abaddeon has gone ahead to track the Sentinels. I hope you can assist him."

Tora said nothing, surveying the destruction before her eyes. Each fallen Frostite felled at least two buildings nearby, their blood turning everything they contact into crystals, which shatter when frozen all the way through. Patches of the city were collapsing, leaving gaps in the landscape. Their city was gone, replaced by this expansion of Frostite world. The crystal blue comprising the city structures and the thick whiteness would have been beautiful, if there wasn't such an atmosphere of irreversibility and finality in the air. All the humans were dead. All the Seekers were dead. There were just Sentinels and Shifters, now.

The small demons by the walls ducked out of the way, relaying messages outwards. Cimerus swiped a glowing talon through the air and disappeared through the rip.

Tora stood in the quiet hum, leaning against the softly-lit Smallgrill table, biting her lips. Seeing the army of Embirites tearing down the Frostites made her bloodlust itch. The bright blood looked dangerous and enticing and appealed to her demon side. Her role was to pay Markl back for the Seekers, but she knew she was equally effective in battle.

The loss gnawed like an abscess in her heart. The surroundings felt so empty without the familiar banter and life sounds. The silence of the Shifter realm might be the same, but it no longer felt like home. No; home was the stir-fries and bad sitcoms, the sweaty unwashed clothes and comfortable mess. Not this pristine, eerie chamber with eyes in every corner.

She waved her arm. The veil rippled, changing from the centre-of-town governmental buildings to the suburbs. Rows of houses lined the roads, the windows frosted over. Plants either lay beneath feet of flawless snow or sat wilted and grey in the abandoned gardens. Abaddeon was still in his Spectre form. All the details in the surroundings blended into nothingness. His sharp eyes picked up on movement down at the other end of the street. It was subtle, almost inconspicuous, but it was a Sentinel.

Tora raised a glowing talon on her right hand and scored it into the space. Her limbs lengthened and thinned, becoming diamond-tipped and long. Facial features melted into a blank nothingness. Her new legs making no noise on the smooth floor, she slipped through the rip before it closed by itself.

The air was mind-numbingly cold, but Tora's Spectre form noted only the tiniest lingering scent in the air of fear. The Sentinel knew he was being followed. Why was he here on his own? There was nothing in this part of town aside from playgrounds and houses.

She joined Abaddeon in his pursuit, keeping about twenty metres away. He paused, turning his head slightly when her presence alerted him, and then he continued. The Sentinel's scent was foreign – not that she expected she'd see Markl again, at least not so soon – and it grew stronger the more anxious he got. The footprints left in the snow increased in distance; he was running.

Tora took the next alleyway. Her limb tips scraped against the jagged layer of ice on the garden brick walls that stretched on either side. Lithely slipping past the wilted willow trees threatening a snowfall, she darted across the gardens like a skittish spider. There was only silence in the air save for the light sounds of movement she made.

She scuttled to the end of the road and saw a figure dart past the opening of another alleyway. She was on to him. With fluid limbs, she slid to the next opening. His footsteps approached, tiring, clumsy.

Without a sound, Tora shot out of the break in the wall. There was a panicked yell, a thump in the snow, followed by a scream.

Tora shifted back to her original form, golden eyes surveying the creature before her. He snuffled like a pathetic human, pieces of his armour scattered on the ground. Blood – darker than fresh human blood – stained the white snow. Abaddeon tilted his head, giving his limbs an extra wrench through the Sentinel's limbs for good measure. His scream pierced the air again.