"Last five minutes," Calimitrin grunted.
A warm heat radiating from Calimitrin's body soothed her back. She could concentrate knowing he covered her flank. Still, his words confused her. Five minutes? What would happen in five minutes?
She refocused, parrying a lethal slash by sweeping upward.
Her shallow injury moaned, a sharp twinge ripping through her side. The pain weakened her stance and distracted her strength. Each hitched breath laced her lungs like the aftereffects of brandy, the burn instant and everlasting.
Isla lowered her sword, defending against a low blow. She switched directions, swinging upwards for a high strike.
Her attention remained latched onto their enemies, but her peripheral spotted the large magic water construct forming above. An array of elements obscured the space from earth to metal crusted spikes, each condensing into a ball.
With the doom looming overhead, her footing faltered, rooting her in place.
Another strike pulled her back, the attack deflecting her sword down, her arms failing their hold. Sweat streaked her face like tears, wetting her neck and dampening her hand. With fatigue shackling her body, her movements halted and a searing metallic blade pierced her immovable thigh.
Isla bite her lip, muffling her cries. Blood draped her tongue and coated the God's sword. A look of bliss surrendered his stone visage, his mouth spreading wide.
How foolish he appeared. Still, this God's minor feat held distress.
"They are here," Calimitrin shouted over the scuffle and clanging metal of battle.
She failed to process his words, the battle noises overshadowing his gruff voice. The adrenaline rushing through her veins evaporated and her body crashed, her insides stuttering. Her ears rang wild, a shrill buzz filling them, the sound humming louder and louder.
The droning ceased as a large explosion reverberated the room. From her central position, marble shards pelted her skin, leaving bruising scars.
Those before her stopped, craning their heads. No longer did their eyes shine with emotionless turmoil, instead, fear marked them
"Charge!" Sinister shouted.
From his order, her head whipped around. She spared a glance at Sinister's tall, lean frame decorated with heavy ebony armor to match his King's. Behind him, the once spotless white wall had crumbled open. Cracks radiated from the center, sections still falling accompanied by dust.
Redirecting her gaze, she watched the enemy retreat a step. They lowered their weapons, hesitation marking their movements.
"What are you waiting for my people? Kill their King and this fight is ours," Osiris commanded.
The pause ended, his words wiping the uncertainty clean. They closed the self-created gap and the roar of battle continued. Yet, the magic disaster reigning overhead persisted, growing bigger with each second.
Isla centered her attention on the immediate attack. Two Gods stepped forward, both unleashing a strike, targeting opposite sides. She stepped back, throwing her weapon up, bracing for impact. The two reinforced swords collided with her own, their reddened blades slicing straight through.
Quickly, she ducked while applying a sliver of aura upon her severed sword. She stabbed the left God's thigh, breaking his thin protective layer of aura. He groaned and reached for the broken blade.
Isla reacted to his attempt, but his comrade secured his escape, launching a barrage of strikes.
Sidestepping away and around the wounded man, she attacked before he could respond. She stretched her aura reserves, the strain shaking her vision and riling her stomach. Still, she ignored the omen and directed magic to her palms. Placing both hands on the wounded man's sword arm, she released a scorching flame that enveloped his skin. The stank of burnt flesh rose to her nostrils as the fire burned through.
He thrashed his arm about, his weapon falling free. His fingers twitched, the burn's damage had deepened, searing his muscles and nerves.
Despite the new weapon's invitation, the second God shoved forward, slashing the distance. The strike swept clear as she dodged back towards the protective circle. With a dark shadow hazing his glare, he prepared another assault. Yet, his fighting perished as Calimitrin's Zweihänder severed him in two.
Isla skidded a step while bending her knees to recover the still beckoning invite. She hoisted the heavy metal and reset her stance.
"Thanks," she wheezed, "but their magic attack is almost ready. We need to stop it."
"No worries there. Leave the mess above to yours truly," Asterick voiced.
Her head swiveled, facing him. "Asterick, did you find him?"
"You doubt me? I'm hurt."
Isla glared. "Not the time, Asterick."
"He's fine. Lance is whisking him away."
"Good." Isla nodded and watched as the Demons surrounded their small group.
"Now let me help you." Asterick grinned, dropping his hand to her thigh.
"I don't think-" His touch elicited a sharp pain. "What the hell are you doing?" she cried, pushing him away.
He chuckled. "I'm sorry, I should have given a warning. This will only hurt a second," he said while the corners of his eyes crinkled.
Asterick lowered his hand to her wound. The light brush incited the same stinging torment but she quelled her desire to retreat. Yet, he stood correct, and the uncomfortable ache lessened before fleeing. The deep injury disappeared, leaving flawless new skin behind. Asterick repeated his action, healing her shallow side would then stepped back.
"Thanks, but as much as I appreciate the help, Lucifer needs it more."
"I'm fine. I've already received aid," Lucifer voiced from behind.
Isla turned, facing him. She scrutinized his form, scanning from top to bottom. The scalding wound had faded, replaced by healed tanned skin.
"My King, your orders?"
Calimitrin leaned on his greatsword's hilt, the massive blade piercing the marble floor. His forehead creased and he glanced Lucifer's way without a word. Blood smears coated his body, glistening beneath the sunlight. Numerous cuts shredded his armor, but beneath, no wounds existed.
He pointed at Osiris. No other indicator needed for their enemies. They were headed his way.
With a single pull, he removed the sleek blade from the floor's depths. He marched straight ahead and Isla followed close behind, Lucifer joining their pace.
Calimitrin obliterated any obstructions marking their path. Beside him, his men cleared the peripheral, dispatching their enemies without command.
No warning or hesitation slowed his pace as he launched himself at her father's final guards. Skye intercepted the first blow. He lowered his body, bearing the attack's full weight, holding his weapon firm.
Following his charge, Isla maneuvered around him and attacked Osiris' blindspot. She clenched her teeth as Rein deflected the attack. Osiris turned his head and smiled.
Still, she distracted him. Opposite her, Lucifer released his own strike. However, Osiris shifted his head and the weapon missed, driving past into the metal crafted throne.
Rein's attention flickered between her and his King, his gaze hazy and unfocused. The once mesmerizing but strong stark blue glowed dim. Where was the Rein she knew? Before her stood only a husk of the actual man.
Without a retort or smirk, Rein besieged her defenses with a barrage of thrusts. She diverted the blows away, her movements swift and reactive.
He altered tactics, pushing her with brute force. She staggered backwards but the action only widened their distance. Rein refused to budge from his protective position. Relaxing her grip, she lowered her weapon, thawing the numbness his attacks inflicted.
"Rein."
His lips twitched and his gaze shook, but silence held him tight.
"Rein, fight him. Don't become the monster."
He closed his eyes and his lips parted with no sound escaping.
"Fight. Him."
"I can't," he whispered, "kill me, Isla."
She hesitated, stepping back. There had to be another way. "Rein, I..."
He interrupted her, dashing forward and slashing. She swung up, blocking the attack, but faltered from his speed.
Still, she recovered and reacted, sidestepping to release a pinpoint strike at his heel. He jumped back and her sword whisked past. The momentum propelled her forward. With a solid step, she regained her equilibrium and flung herself at his off-balanced stride.
Rein stopped and stood frozen. His eyes dilated then he relaxed, dropping his weapon.
She willed herself to stop, and withhold her thrust, but her weight carried her onwards. Her last cries and struggles slowed her gait, the relief washing her fears clean. Yet, Rein withdrew his abandonment and advanced.
Her weapon met minimal resistance, driving straight through armor into his flesh. Rein coughed, blood spraying her wide eyed face. His arms encompassed her, the warmth seeping into her body. Within moments, his weight transferred and her stance bore the brunt.
She released her weapon, her arms enveloping and sustaining him. A mere second, and Isla felt his life flicker.
"Rein, you idiot," she mumbled, his chest compressed against her face.
Her anger earned his full weight, and they collapsed, his arms freeing her. Isla scooted around his side and shoved his back flat. The sword protruded from his chest, blood pooling around the wound. She pulled the weapon clear, surveying the deep, gouging cut through his stomach.
Dragging his hands, she covered the wound and doubled the action with her own. "You idiot," she cried.
His cloudy blues sparked—brief but true to himself—and a small lopsided smile joined the foray. "Forgive me," he choked before his brilliant pools disappeared from sight.
A/N: Happy Holidays!