Morana's hand flew to her chest and black spots swarmed her vision. Her surroundings blurred as her head grew heavy, then lightened, and grew leaden again until it seemed she was spinning in a continuous push and pull of her brain. Morana tipped sideways but spread her knees wider to brace herself before she could fall over.
She managed to suck down half a breath and gritted her teeth. She lifted her gaze to Astaroth's and held it as she dragged herself towards him, inch by inch, her heart hammering as the invisible grip on it tightened. A few tears managed to slip down her cheeks as she sparked magic in her palms once more.
Astaroth only watched her with a look of smug defiance. His one taloned hand remained clenched while the other beckoned her closer. Vaguely, Morana recognized shouts coming from behind her, but she ignored them. She couldn't let herself be distracted...or dissuaded.
She paused less than five feet away from Astaroth and gathered herself, every inch of her body trembling with exhaustion and pain. The sudden weight in her head threatened to drag her down yet again, but Morana squeezed her eyes shut and steeled herself.
With one burst of momentum, she thrust herself to her feet and plunged her hands into the shadowy mass of Astaroth's chest. Flames ignited at her fingertips, eating away at him from the inside out. A furious shriek rose from the god-spawn and Morana echoed it with a defiant roar.
A sharp pain pierced her side as Astaroth drove his talons clean through her middle. Blood dripped from her lips and an unrelenting pain flooded her body. Morana tipped her head back, but only let her flames burn hotter. Astaroth gave another roar and plunged his second taloned hand through her other side.
Morana lurched at the impact, blood gushing into her throat and cutting off what little amount of air she'd been able to suck down. Flames licked at her own hands now and spread up her arms.
Her eyes widened in terror and recognition, but it was too late to pull back. Astaroth's talons held her in place and blood poured from each side of her where his talons had entered and emerged.
"Morana!" Two overlapping screams came from behind her.
Somehow, she managed to turn her head enough to see them, even as flames spread to the rest of her body and an unbearable heat seared through her veins, her skin blistering and melting away. Gaelen and Tarion were racing towards her, and her father wasn't far behind.
It was Lonan and Tarion who had called her name and continued to do so now, each of them bearing frantic and terrified expressions. Tarion's fear crashed through the warm bond within her chest and she could see the damp trails that tears had carved through the dirt and blood crusted to his face.
This time, her heart twisted in guilt. Guilt for what they were about to witness, the two males who loved her so much. The mate who had spent nine-hundred years alone. The father who had spent one-hundred and twenty-five years not knowing if his sacrifices had been enough to save her. The single year they had all gotten to spend together.
Morana's gaze flickered to Tarion's for a heartbeat, before she turned away and peered behind Astaroth. The sun had reached the horizon now, waves of red seeping around it. But it had not set. Instead, it seemed to be waiting. Watching.
And she realized why as a new sphere of light began rising before the setting sun, the crimson light bleeding over its pale surface until it was stained red. The opposite of the sign of her birth.
Her gaze lifted to Astaroth's as the dark Lord's voice rumbled between them. "You have failed, Phoenix," he hissed. "You were never going to be able to kill me. It would take a god." He offered her one last grin. "I'm going to enjoy enslaving your friends once more, and as for your mate..."
Astaroth lowered his shrouded face until it was level with hers. "I'm going to take him to my altar and bind him to me just as I did to Rhidian, so he cannot die unless that piece of me is separated from him. And then, I'm going to seal him back in his tomb and bury him so deep in the ground that no one will ever find him. He will rot down there for all eternity, unable to escape, unable to die."
She had no voice to answer with, but let her eyes speak her defiance. Flames crawled along her neck now and she scented when her hair ignited. Morana lifted her eyes to the sky, her last few tears evaporating into steam as flames engulfed them. Tarion's pleas were deafening even over the roar of the fire eating her flesh.
As she closed her eyes, the pain gave way to a blissful numbness, and all sounds vanished from around her. Morana's lips parted in a breathless exhale as she yielded to her flames and did what she was always meant to do. The Phoenix burned until she was only ashes on the sand.
And visible within the dark pool where she had knelt, a blood moon was seen eclipsing the setting sun, until at last the sun sank out of sight and a crimson darkness covered the sky as the moon moved backwards across it.
•༻☽☾༺•
Tarion crashed to his knees as ashes floated to the ground where Morana had been only moments ago. The bond within his chest went cold, driving a chill deep in the pit of his stomach. A cold so penetrating and lifeless that it numbed his every sense, except one.
His Phoenix. His mate. His wife. The cold was smothering, but it couldn't silence the scream of defiance, disbelief, and agony that came from Tarion's lips. An echo of his own father's scream when his mother's life had ended.
But where Azael's had carried wrath and a promise of vengeance, Tarion's was choked with a crushing sorrow and desperation. The sob of one whose very soul had been ripped from his body, leaving a void shell behind. She was gone. She was gone. She was gone.
Over and over the thought hammered through his skull. He stared at the ashes around Astaroth's still smoldering form, the only remnants of his mate. She was gone. Morana was gone. Tarion raised a hand to his sternum and raked his nails across his leathers as desperation fogged his senses. His breathing turned ragged, each one bringing less air than the one before.
He clawed at his chest again and again, begging for warmth to fill that tether once more. It was so empty and cold and... "Gods, please!" Another male was screaming beside him. "Please!" Lonan pleaded, tears streaming down his face. "Not her, I beg you!"
The male's cries continued as Tarion fisted his fingers in his hair, begging himself to wake up from whatever cruel nightmare this one. She couldn't be gone. She was all he had left. The only thing that gave his miserable life any meaning. She couldn't be gone.
After all he'd been through, everything he'd done, the gods had snatched her away. The gods who couldn't even be bothered to help them. The gods who had driven her to her death, letting her fight a war that they were never going to win.
Numbness melted away to a burning fury as Tarion fixed his gaze on Astaroth. He had promised she wouldn't face him alone. He had promised Astaroth would not win. He had promised that nothing would happen to her. He had sworn that the nightmare which haunted her would not come to pass.
And the gods had spit in their faces and damned his mate to die. Damned their world to die. Damned him to live.
Tarion pushed himself to his feet, dark, violent magic lashing around him as his wrath swelled to a tempest. He had failed, as he had failed so many times before. But he had made her one last promise that perhaps he could still keep. He had sworn that the gods would weep at the oblivion he left the world in, and nothing would stop him from clawing his way back to her even in death.
The ground beneath his feet rumbled and split with dozens of cracks as rage settled deep within his bones, drowning out the grief that threatened to send him back to his knees. "Tarion!" The voice was muffled by the roaring in his head.
A hand latched onto his arm and Tarion jerked towards it, his fangs bared in a feral snarl. Gaelen held his gaze, unflinching, his grip only growing tighter. Slowly, Tarion's gaze dropped, something pricking at the back of his mind.
He hadn't realized it in the moment, but someone had grabbed him when he was running to Morana. He'd almost been within reach of her. He should have reached her. Something had slowed him down. Someone had held him back. Tarion's gaze lifted once more and rage seeped into it.
"You stopped me from reaching her," he hissed, the words low and rough, gouging his throat like a thousand knives.
"I made her a promise."
"So did I." In a flash, Tarion had one of his blades unsheathed and angled at the crook of Gaelen's jaw. "Unless you want your blood spilled next, I suggest you let me go."
The other male's gaze slipped in Astaroth's direction, then back to him. "This won't bring her back, Son."
Tarion's voice fell to a whisper. "I am not your fucking son."
He was nothing now. Any remaining shred of who he had once been was gone. There was no more Prince. He had died with his Phoenix. All that remained was what Astaroth had forged him into. This mutilated and Corrupted body trained to defile and slaughter. This tarnished soul that craved vengeance and thirsted for blood. And the male before him was brimming with it.
"I may not be your father, but you have always been my son," Gaelen murmured. "And I will not lose you now."
"You already have." Before Gaelen had a chance to react, Tarion slashed his blade across his wrist. The male jerked back with a hiss and a wave of magic threw him several feet away. "Take the others and leave this place. Go back to Arcan if you wish to survive. This is your only warning."
Tarion drew his second dagger and turned away, leaving Orilight sheathed. He wouldn't use a goddess-blessed blade for this. Not when the gods had forsaken them. The blades that had belonged to Astaroth's Angel would do well enough for what he had planned.
"Tarion!" Gaelen hollered as he set off towards Astaroth. The last of Morana's flames had died away and the dark Lord was already rising to meet him. "Tarion!"
A wave of wind carried Tarion's words back to the male. "I promised my mate oblivion. That is one promise I can keep."
Dark clouds swirled around him as he stepped into Astaroth's reach, erasing any voices that might've followed after him. Tarion brandished his daggers and bared his fangs at the creature who had given them to him. "Oblivion, you say?" Astaroth crooned. "I always knew you would bring decimation to this world."
His talons, still drenched in familiarly scented blood, clacked against his daggers. Tarion drew a harsh breath, drinking in the scent of wind, smoke and fire. The last embers of a sunset. The scent of his Phoenix, one last time. "I may not be able to Ascend anymore, but how do you intend to destroy me if even your precious Phoenix couldn't, Prince?"
"I'm no prince," Tarion growled. "And I don't have to destroy you. I just have to keep you from destroying anyone else." He flung himself at the dark Lord without another word, steel shrieking against obsidian.
But before he had landed more than two blows, another blade joined his, then three more. Tarion didn't bother to acknowledge those who had come to fight at his side. He had granted them a warning of what he intended to do here, but apparently, no one else cared to survive this either.
Tarion just threw himself at Astaroth without restraint, Lonan and Gaelen moving with him on either side, and Neeri and Rehema flanking each of them.