-Aleksandra Bane-
She didn't want to look. She made sure it happened fast enough she didn't have to see it, didn't have to drag it on, to watch him suffer much longer.
But she regretted it. She resented yelling at him, telling him that he was at fault too, making him feel regretful right before he said he would die for the possibility of a better world. How heroic. What if they failed later, then what use would it have been? If Atlanta could not kill her King, then they would have failed and Willim's death would have been unecessary.
"Live for us," he had said. Live for whom? Willim and Bathyl? Their souls were sharing the same body, definitely, but for whom was she to live for if that wasn't what he meant? If Aleksandra were to look around the room, she would have discovered there was no one she was willing to do that for, except for the lone person who now lay in her arms, dead before her.
She had never wanted this, this kind of ending. But then what, leave him to the Ambassadors to truly suffer for the rest of his life?
Ha, but what life does he have now? He's dead.
She wasn't in the least fascinated by death anymore, at least, not now.
Aleksandra could not stop staring at his still form, collapsed and cold. Her brother, gone, just like that, and she had allowed it. Gods, how could she have allowed it? A sick feeling welled in her gut, and she didn't even notice the barrier shatter and rain fragile pieces on her back, pelting her and Dareon in its stinging contact.
Dareon.
She turned to the boy, eyeing his horrified face. They were both still, with her hand wrapped around his wrist, and his fingers clutching the black rock that had once been Willim's heart, no longer pumping life through his veins. Aleksandra felt sick. The rock did not shine, it did not resemble a treasure or the kindness that Willim possessed. It was dull and heavy, it didn't do him justice. They had done everything, for this rock? She had made Dareon do it too, she had forced him to kill her brother. Her breath caught as she realized that it could not be undone.
How many lives had she ruined, she wondered.
She was truly a monster.
Somebody suddenly roughly clawed at the collar of her shirt, pulling sharply backwards, nearly choking her. She was tossed to the floor, gasping at the pain shooting through her body as she arched at the impact, Willim falling from her hands. Pain was the only thing she could feel. Just pain.
"You have chosen the wrong person to defy," the First Ambassador stood over her, breathing heavily. Sweat trickled down the scales that climbed over his one yellow eye. "No matter. He would have died anyway, that poison still worked through his veins. We've already gotten what we've come for."
Across the room Atlanta and Lucan were magically tied by rope and bound to the floor by the other Ambassadors who had successfully destroyed their barrier, but neither of them looked done and willing to surrender yet. They watched, still, waiting for an opportunity. Aleksandra was quite proud of that, but her thoughts were elsewhere.
All of the Ambassadors were in many ways malformed. Mutated, like hybrid beasts. The First grinned devilishly at her with his yellow eye.
"Yes, you've noticed," he crowed, "A mere consequence of achieving a requirement of Gods."
Dareon, who had earlier been next to her, was clutching Willim's heart close to him as the other Ambassadors approached him with malicious intent. He had gone quite far, and the advisors were walking slowly towards him, exhausted from their effort to destroy the barrier.
The First continued, "Do you think we would have just let you do as you pleased? What was that trick of yours that the late Queen taught you? Perhaps you'd like to share."
Aleksandra tried to stand, but winced as a lightning sharp sting shot up her arm, but tried hard not to show it. She smirked, "It's a one time use, I don't think it'd be very valuable to you."
He raised an eyebrow, "Is that so?"
A scowl spread on his face as he raised his leg, bringing his foot down sharply on her knee. There was a dull crunch from her leg, a sudden flashing pain making her cry out as her limb lay almost useless, connected to her still, but could only tell her that it was hurt, hurt and broken. Tears filled her eyes.
"Don't pull another one of your special tricks taught by that naive fool. Oh, she tried to hide the Dragon Vessels, and in the same sense she must have taught you many things to protect yourself, but those are useless now. Not when we eleven are as strong as we are. What you'll try won't be as effective anymore. Sorry, princess, but all other efforts are futile, and your life, along with your friends', end here."
Aleksandra shook in pain on the floor, almost unable to focus on what the madman was saying. She was used to pain, why was this any different? His yellow eye bore into her, piercing her with a monstrous glow, then he smiled.
With a clawed finger he reached down and pulled at the collar of her shirt. For a moment, she was unsure what he was doing, then he pulled and tore through her tunic, revealing her bare chest underneath. Her face reddened, furious, but a foreign pain ran through one arm, rendering it useless. The other was pressed to the floor by the man's foot, and she didn't dare move it save for the fact he could probably crush the small bones in her wrists with the power he had now. She could not cover herself, her exposed breasts, and her heartbeat flared to life, feeling humiliated, feeling fear.
Please... She swallowed nervously.
The First stared at her with the most intrigued expression, trailing his disgusting gaze over her form. Then, "Your mark has grown quite large. You are one careless witch, Aleksandra Bane."
Surprised, she looked down at herself. She was very much aware that it was large, but she had never seen it in this light. A disgusting black mark writhed and twisted on her chest, almost as if alert. It was faint movement, but she noticed it. It nearly covered half of each breast, extending around her ribs and carressing her collarbone, black as ink and horrifying. She growled at him, unable to attack the Ambassador.
"From my expertise," He began, "You're likely to die soon, a few weeks perhaps, maybe two months at most. Keep that in mind."
Then he stepped off her arm and instantly she tugged her shirt closed over herself. She glared at him with her green eyes, viciously snarling at him. Aleksandra felt violated. Who cares what he said, who cares what anybody said anymore. She'd bloody do what she wanted, regardless of how long she had left. How could he tell anyway, every Mark was different, there was no specific size that declared death was imminent.
She breathed heavily, vision red.
The First turned away from her, approaching the forester boy who edged himself away from the Ambassadors who strode toward him.
A voice rumbled through her head, reminding her of a forest breeze, "Begin, Aleksandra. You have access to some of our power, we gave it to you the day Lorthrain possessed you to speak to the vessels. Use it, before my vessel dies."
"Boread?" she whispered, surprised at the familiar voice. She hadn't heard his light tone in a long time.
"Don't waste any time. Here, I'll lend you a hand."
For a moment, there was nothing.
Then suddenly something burst forth from within her, like a blooming flame that flared and danced to the beat of her heart. It moved through her, enrapturing her flesh and wrapping it in this light warmth, like falling onto warm sheets in the evening cold. It welled up in her chest, in her lungs, trickling some kind of power into her fingertips and veins, refreshing her as if she drank from a cool stream. She felt lighter, stronger, the world looked clearer and seemed to slow down for her, as if she could command it.
There was a dull crack as her leg snapped back into its proper place, relief when she could no longer feel the foreign pain in her arm. The world was rimmed with light.
Once the peak of it was over, she felt oddly calm. Yet beneath the cloud of serenity she could feel her anger, her pain, her sorrow, and her fear, brewing there like a burning ember. It fuelled her.
Slowly, she stood, watching the Ambassadors get closer to Dareon Hallow. The boy did not betray his determination. For a moment, she smiled, liking how his grey eyes cautiously watched the Ambassadors who looked at him as if he was merely a petty obstacle, quarry in a throne room rather than a forest.
Secretly, she hoped he'd forgive her for what she did next.
Aleksandra rolled her shoulders, as if she had stretched an imaginary span of wings that spread from her back. She was well aware that there was nothing there, but it made her feel more powerful. Less like a mortal. Less vulnerable.
As if she could fly.
She sighed through her lips and watched as smoke rose with her breath in a puff of dancing grey.
Then she crouched, feeling strength in her knees and the balls of her feet. Yes, she definitely liked this.
When she jumped, a gust of air hit the ground, as if she had beat wings at it. Reaching out one hand, she nabbed the back of the neck of one unidentified Ambassador, then with a delicious power unknown to her, she threw her hand down. The man's bewildered expression met the floor, the very stone floor that cracked and crumbled at the force. The feathers that stuck out of his cheek fluttered and stilled.
One.
The other Ambassadors glanced back at her, shocked in their monstrous forms.
She smiled at them.
Speed was hers as she appeared behind one of them, oblivious to her presence as she flattened her palm and jabbed it straight through his fragile chest. The man gurgled, twitching and staring in horror at the fingers impaled through his flesh. His wide eyes stared at her, unblinking. Two.
Her fist broke through the entire left side of one man's ribcage. There was hardly any resistance, especially with how she was now. Three, she counted. The others glanced around them, catching only the sights of their dying comrades and not the blur that was Aleksandra who ran among them.
Four, she thought, twisting one man's head past their natural capabilities. A loud snap thrummed from the base of his neck.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.
A man's head fell from her clawed fingers, separated from its respective body. He hadn't suffered long, and neither did the rest of them. But there was one of them left, and she stood before him now.
The First Ambassador's eyes were wide as he stared at her, blatant shock at what she'd done. Yet, he did not look afraid of her, his face breaking into a curious smile. He straightened, returning from surprise as he looked in awe, unfazed by the death of his comrades.
"You've finally awakened," he said.
"I'd like to know what you mean," Aleksandra said calmly, "But I've had enough of talking to you."
She stretched out one arm towards the old man, muscles tensing. Ribbons of glowing lights emerged from her skin, wrapping around her entire arm and twisting into a long blinding whip that she clutched tightly in her fingers. This was new, and it thrilled her. This right here, this power flowing through her veins, this very moment did not follow any class she heard of. What was this? Creation? Not quite. Physical embodiment of magic?
Earlier, Queen Heather did something similar, but that wasn't the same. That magical item used her will, and the bright balls of light were just flames she had made much hotter than normal, and more compact, which was rather close to what Elementals were capable of. In truth, Aleksandra commended her.
Aleksandra smiled like a child, "If this is awakening, then I certainly am not resting again."
The First gathered his hands together, summoning a weapon into his hand. Ah, he was part of the Thief class. Rare, too, their lot. They could summon things from locations they were not present, as long as they knew what the item they wanted looked like, there was chance they could take it from its original location without others knowing about it.
Queen Merianne was not part of this Class, though Aleksandra wasn't sure. Queen Merianne was capable of many things she wasn't even aware of.
In the Ambassador's hand he held a whip of his own, strong leather that cracked against the floor at contact. "Two whips against each other, that wouldn't be all that fun, would it?" He smirked, a youthful expression on his old face.
"No it wouldn't," Aleksandra acknowledged, but didn't expect what he did next.
Without a second of hesitation the old man pivoted and snapped his wrist in Dareon's direction. The leather danced in the air, slicing through it as it moved towards the forester, a crack sounding as it pierced the wall. Dareon yelled as a cut formed on his cheek. He nearly dropped the valuable rock in his hand.
Aleksandra bared her teeth, "Your fight's not with him, old man!" She cursed, yet her hand was still.
"Is it with you?" He turned to her with an amused expression, "Don't make me laugh. No, girlie, you are not my fight. You are merely a door I have to pass to get to my true enemies."
The Ambassador lashed out again, the end of the whip circling sharply around Dareon's wrist, nearly shaking Willim's heart from his grasp.
"Stop!" She roared.
"Harm me, and the same that happens to me shall happen to him."
Dareon glanced pleadingly at her, but he wasn't begging for his safety. She wasn't sure what he was looking at her for at all, but he was worried and also trying his hardest not to acknowledge the pain in his arm. His eyes were determined, that same stormy grey she was used to.
Aleksandra's grip on her whip sizzled and made shocking power run through it. She couldn't find herself to raise the weapon now, there was a chance the forester would be hurt if she tried to attack the Ambassador. She didn't know why she hesitated killing the First to begin with. Killing everyone else was easy, what was one more? Did he have more to say that she wanted to hear? He was just an obstacle, a mere pebble in the middle of the road, that was all.
Forcing herself, she raised her arm over her head, whip in hand, but did nothing as she saw the Ambassador raise his own arm, "Now who would be your true enemy, if not the dragon vessels?" She asked.
The First paused for a moment, listening to her, before he chuckled under his breath, "You shouldn't give yourself so much credit. I just said, Aleksandra, that you are in the way. I never waged war on you, I never intended to make you my enemy, you just found yourself eligible for the position of being a pest. You're one unlucky soul, I must admit. Good thing it wasn't your soul that we took, but your brother's."
She straightened, eyes narrowing at him, "You didn't wage war on me? Ha! You took everything, all for your selfish wants, even if it took from me. You kept a watchful eye on everything I did, you made sure that I was under your surveillance. And what, I just show up and suddenly I'm an obstacle?"
"Are you saying you haven't done anything for yourself? What about all those lives you took? Don't take me for a fool. In fact," The Ambassador's long whip tightened in the air tantalizingly, still wrapped around Dareon's wrist, "If it helps you out in the slightest, you aided me. You killed the Queens who stood in our way. You allowed the destruction of your own brother, who would have only been useless to me in the future if he lived that long. Around me scatters my brothers in vows, dead because of you. But the power they possessed? That doesn't simply disappear. Where else can it go, but to me?"
He waved his empty hand in the air and suddenly all the Hallow bands on the floor rattled and clattered, shattered pieces vibrating violently. All of them lifted off the floor, taking a moment to float in the air before zipping straight to the First, collecting around his wrist to form a thick brace that fitted along his forearm. As they touched his skin, they glowed a chilling blue.
Aleksandra's eyes widened, unsure of what was happening before her eyes.
"Why don't you take my life, just as you did everyone else?" He purred as he pointed at the whip in her hand that twitched eagerly. "Don't tell me at the last second you'll fail, that you're truly a coward. You see, Aleksandra, you were never our original target. What could vessels do without their hosts? You were nothing to us, but now that you've awakened, that'll certainly be a problem. You are not my fight, witch, so I advise you get out of my way. "
Her anger blazed hotly, flaring in her chest. The whip in her hand convulsed and retracted back into a strange, morphable shape that writhed hungrily for something she knew she could feed it.
Raising both her arms, the swirling spiral of magic filled out a shape of a bow and arrow, elegantly formed with a slender curve in its limbs. The head of the arrow she could tell had a fine point, sharp and thinned for piercing the sky and the stars. The weapon shook in her hand.
"What do you plan to do, Ambassador?" She called at him. Her vision was still golden, unnervingly bright and sharp, and she could see the sweat on the man's brow and in his hands. She could see Dareon watching them with his jaw hanging open, Atlanta fiddling with the ropes at her back with Lucan on his knees with an unreadable expression as always. The last five alive in the room and four of them seemed hopeless.
Hopeless.
That wasn't how she wanted to be.
"Tell me! Who is this enemy of yours that you want to fight so badly? Surprise me, why don't you."
The old man turned his arm over, eyeing the collected Hallow stones with growing interest as he switched his whip to his other hand, "I don't think I've been particularly discrete about it. Every man wants riches or love or even death. Yet there are many more who've yearned for immortality, but that isn't everything. Every one of us wants power, wants complete control. We see wrong in everywhere we look and want to make it so that it follows what we wish.
"But what does have power over it does nothing. They watch and watch, and do nothing on their false thrones. Our Gods. Oh, they just watch as we destroy ourselves in this eternal pool of chaos they created us in, they pace and hope we can solve it all for ourselves. So timid are our Gods that I question their existence altogether.
"Dragon vessels were the only proof that the Winged Kings existed, history could have told us fairytales, and the closest we could get to the truth were you four. Yet I find myself tiring as I watch what this world undergoes, this path we've turned to that only ends in a cliff, and as mortals we are blind as we walk it! I am finished with that way of living, and I will reign over this land just as the First King did, but with power, with immortality, with every creature of the day on their knees before me." The First Ambassador grinned, hunching as sickening cracks sounded from his bones, "To become a God, Aleksandra Bane, there is a price. Mortality for power, power that puts me on the level of the Winged Kings. Power that makes me capable of destroying them, the Dragons that rule us quietly in their shadows."
Aleksandra wavered at his words, but slowly her voice rumbled through, "Your foes are locked away legends? I don't think you've been paying attention. The only way to free the dragons is if the dragon vessels kill each ruler on this land, there's no way you could possibly fight them like this, hindering their progress. Only when they're free could you possibly take them down."
"No, Aleksandra," the Ambassador mocked, "The one who isn't listening, is you. The earth speaks to us, it tells us the truth, but fools like you, the generations that follow mine, have forgotten how to listen."
The First tugged sharply on his whip, pulled Dareon forward onto his knees. He crashed into a dead body of the Seventh Ambassador, and immediately stood, revolted at the cooling flesh. Aleksandra though, was still adamant, holding the bow and arrow tightly in her grip, her lips in a firm line.
"Let him go, Ambassador," she called, eyeing him over the shaft of the arrow as she jerked her chin in Dareon's direction. She truly didn't remember how to properly aim with a bow, when she was younger accuracy was always her problem, but power was not. The string was taut between her fingers.
The First turned to her with a surprised expression, "He's expendable, he's useless to you now. The heart is out, Willim is good and done. This Dareon is the same, his purpose has been fulfilled, and the Dragons don't need him if the remaining rulers of this land are left for you, the knight, and the Zarkarian."
Aleksandra wasn't sure how to reply to that, because it was in fact true. Dareon Hallow was already of no use to the Dragon's cause, but did that mean he had to die? Before, everyone was worthy of dying, she was always sure of it. Death was absolute. Now? She was unsure.
But she would not allow this First Ambassador to defy the law Queen Merianne had stated. No one could escape death, not for long.
"He's not your fight," she repeated uselessly.
"Ah, not this again. Lady Bane, it's futile now. Shoot me, the forester dies, and I'll make sure of it. Don't, and he ends the same, and either way I get Willim's heart. You could be the one to bring about his death, or the one who didn't stop it. Are you up for a change of roles? We are all aware you're used to being the cause. 'Princess of the Rust', a nickname I haven't heard in a long time. That's you, Aleksandra, you brought the decay to this kingdom and you destroyed it from within, corroding its walls and its grounds. Even though you didn't know it, and though it wasn't your intention, you helped me. The girl of rust in the festering wound... It suits you."
She flinched at his words, but anger began to simmer in her chest.
It was final. She'd never be forgiven.
But that wasn't her problem.
Brows furrowed, she glared at the old man. There was no such thing as immortality, one could not become a God. Death was absolute. Death was not to be defied. She'd take her chance. This world was ready to blame her, and she'd take the credit. Perhaps, she had been the one to spark Bathyl's madness with the Queen's death, leading to a downwards spiralling kingdom. Perhaps, she could be the cause to the world's oncoming demise.
It didn't matter.
The bow quivered under the stress of her hands, palms sweating. A bow made by her magic, a bow she wasn't truly sure how to properly hold, yet it was specifically hers. She had already wasted some power creating that whip she never even intended to use, but now, perhaps, she could aid the world a bit.
Kill the Ambassador before he would ruin the world for good sounded just about right.
Just as she released her fingers holding the tail of the arrow, an arm shot forward from behind her and wrapped itself around her throat, pulling her backwards roughly. The jerked movement made her shot shift to the side, missing its target by a foot at least. It didn't even graze him, and instead sunk itself into the wall on the other side of the room, making a large crack branch out from its head.
"No!" She roared, her vision pulsing. Her power was still accentuated with what the Dragons had given her, this 'awakening' she had received. In her rage everything seemed to sharpen but shake out of focus, and it was making her dizzy.
The First's expression broke into a slow, satisfied smile.
Aleksandra, with her frustration almost blinding her, she glanced up to see the face of a man with messy auburn hair and a thick beard, irritated blue eyes trained on her as he tore the glowing weapon from her hands. A sharp sizzling noise rose from his reddening palm, blood trailing down his arm. She glanced to the hastily wrapped cloth soaked red around his forearm. It was practically dripping, but over the edge of it she could see the small gashes which she had created with her own teeth earlier to get out of his grip and away from Heather.
"Don't even think about it, m'lady," the man growled under his breath. "Keep to your own business, how 'bout that, eh?"
From across the room Lucan's astonished voice shook, "Commander Roy?"
The once nameless man looked up and grinned a malicious smirk. "That's right, Lucan. It's good to see you in your place. Being a traitor, ironically, fits."