The Heirs of Death

13. Shot at Salvation

It was horror now that consumed the silence ever growing stronger each time we came into this realm.

It would be a mercy if Blake failed and Lysithea was the one to live. She was an easier opponent, weaker than a soul fed with darkness for eight thousand years.

"True," hissed Siltheres, slightly shifting in my lap. "They have been at each other's throat in this wicked game ever since thou set to travel the continents. There is one thing thou all must know: Apocalys has to rise. War has to exist so we can defeat him. It is only a matter of time."

"Can't we just kill him in his sleep and end with all of this?" Father looked like he was ready to tear Apocalys to shreds with his bare hands by his very own.

"No." The dragon's voice and tone left no space to argue. "It is not certain where his sleeping form is, always shifting, always leaving magic where it once was until there is a heavy scent of him everywhere. He has to rise to be killed."

"Then what is that option that we have?"

"Apocalys's slumber has been well planned. No matter how powerful he gets, he cannot wake by his own. He needs a trigger, someone to pull on the chains. But the charm says that the one who wakes him up has, even if limited, a grip of control over him. If thou wake him"—all eyes turned to me—"thou will hold a piece of him in thine hands. He can fight it and ignore it, but it helps so that the powers drawn are not fully thine. Thou will have to use astronomical strength, yes, but he will burn more."

"It is the same gamble then," I commented, fingers brushing cool scales and then hot feathers, "depending on weather I play it smart and fast or no. It is just that I have one more secret card up my sleeve."

"Indeed."

"And how are supposed to wake him if not only the sword is not with us, but everything needed for the ritual?" Father's patience and hope were wearing thin.

Téors answered that, "The blade isn't what is needed to actually wake him up. Not at all. Be it Lysithea or her son who dies, the heart must be stabbed with that steel so the spell can work. The methods they have been seeking are under one name in between many. They have chosen that path because they have everything but the last spell. That is why they are waiting to slit each other. The blood needs to be as fresh as possible, the warmer the better.

"If we can make sure to retrieve the sword before they succeed, we will have a stronger chance in waking Apocalys."

"And how so?" all of what I read and learned was storming in my mind as I proceeded every word.

"We," Siltheres declared, "know what the other rituals are; the one that do not need any of the objects they have. But two rituals can't happen at once, thus the need to stop them. And once we do, we will already have the ceremony planned, gaining time as they will have to look for anything else."

"And does it happen that you have anything to do with what sort of ritual they discovered yet? About that weakness they are unaware of?"

"Us, no. But the Gods have been at work for quite a long time this beast wouldn't leave it to chance."

"But," interjected Ramos, "How do we stop them? How do we get the sword back?"

"We have to infiltrate them."

Leon swore under his breath. So did everyone.

"And how do we do this?"

There was a sort of a smirk in the beasts' features as they stared at me. "There is a tribe of demons that has been mercilessly killed." They turned to my father. "When Sorcha and her husband have killed the last remaining one under your order. Lysithea was at rage to watch the strongest specie of demons ever bread to be reduced to myths and legends. But there was a reason for that wrath, something our Gods have made sure to make them believe through all those long years past Dearcious's death. Something that they are waiting and holding to hard to be their salvation, just like we did with thy daughter."