Author's Note: This isn't the end.
I'm working on the end. You see, there's going to be 127 chapters, along with the Interludes, and an Epilogue, and the Author's Note chapter at the end, where I detail the future of Fever Blood, share some exciting news, and tell you the origin story of my story.
They rush towards oblivion unaware of the brilliant light that could be theirs, the salvation extended to them. They claimed immortality, and had achieved perpetual longevity, but they had ceased to live. The Eight had robbed themselves of the ability to strive for good. They had, the same way a monk may meditate on a single piece of scripture, devoted themselves to a different debauchery or sin, and given themselves wholly to it. And that evil, for it is evil's twisted nature to corrupt what it embraces and destroy what it inhabits, will bring them ruin.
With their death comes an end to the misery they can inflict.
They flew through the air, and Laidu tasted freedom.
The blood within his veins, within their veins, sang. Energy had come pouring in, had surged within them from a renewed source. They had cloaked themselves with heat, and with the wealth of aether pouring into their body, they had forgone the use of Fever Blood. Instead, they had attuned it's dangerous, but powerful cousin.
It was like Fever Blood, with a similar tempo and melody (though one not heard with the ears, but with his blood), but stronger, fuller. However, instead of making his flesh glow like fire, glowing cherry red, this made their flesh white-hot, glowing like the sun.
Be sparing with when you let the blood truly sing, Rhaedra cautioned him. Laidu remembered seeing dragons fly, shining like the heavenly light, before plummeting to the ground, their wings burning, their flesh wreathed in flames. It will consume flesh. Should you lose control, your invulnerability to fire and heat will pervert itself. That immunity would become a vulnerability, and your flesh will be devoured by the fire you brought forth.
Burned by the fire that I lost control of. There's a kind of poetic justice to that, if you think about it, Laidu thought.
Think about slaying Kazalibad, and not losing control of the Solar Heart. You understand? Rhaedra swooped down closer to the ocean. Laidu wisely let him stay in control of their body. Laidu had martial skills, and was deft with a sword. He had absolutely no experience flying.
He felt something sinuous and wet wrap around their leg, and Laidu focused the Solar Heart around that leg. With a hiss and a snap, it burned to a crisp. What was that? Laidu asked.
One of Kazalibad's tongues. He becomes more grotesque the longer he exists. An abomination, and he has stolen our power, Rhaedra cursed. It will be a most noble task to reclaim it.
I don't think we can take it back, Laidu answered.
We don't need to. We just need to end him. Rhaedra ducked, and skimmed near the water. The spray began to evaporate, throwing up mist driven up by the heat of their blood.
"Coward!" They turned to face Kazalibad. "Fight me here! On the ground!" He had waded out into the sea, but was stepping on ice, every step of his twisted foot causing the water to solidify. It spread like a flower blossoming, centered around him, before the ice touched the Coldspire.
YOU ARE READING
When Laidu, a half-human, half-dragon Ranger, rescues a mysterious girl from slavers, he doesn't know it but he's in for a world of trouble. Teaming up with an insane scholar, a chatty assassin, and two mercenaries, they go to take the girl -Kyra- h...