Darla’s heart pounded rapidly within her chest, threatening to burst from its cage. This was so not good…
Pipperina’s glowing white devil eyes seared into hers. “I can’t wait to watch you burn, Dragon mage. Just wait until I tell His Darkness that I killed Darla Hawthorne.”
Darla seethed bitterly. “You’re disgusting, you know that? And I’m not going down without a fight.”
Pipperina let out a deep, rough howl, as coarse as sandpaper. “So let’s fight, darling. You know my friends, the Illyrians?”
Darla turned towards the slimy beasts which surrounded her on all sides. A dank, foul odor emanated from them, turning the air inside the cave greenish. They resembled gigantic mold-yellow slugs with carnivorous wolf-like fangs jutting out of their mouths. Darla noticed a line of spikes glinting down their backs. Great…just great. She recognized them as Illyrian devils, which she learned about in her Devil History class. The infamous legend, shared over hushed dinner tables, went something like this:
A wealthy dragon merchant escaped into the human realm, the origin land of monsters. He came across a beautiful girl with hair of fine white silk and eyes blue as crystal waters. Her name was Illyria and her father was a poor shepherd in Greece. The dragon offered the old man a pile of precious gems and gold in exchange for Illyria, in which he happily obliged. So the merchant brought the young girl back to Pharix, where she became his wife inside his luxurious manor. However, scandal soon broke out when Illyria was caught sleeping with one of the merchant’s stable boys. Angered, he cursed Illyria and turned her into the ugliest devil alive. He replaced her beauty with atrocity and her sweet, loving nature with a bloodthirsty desire to kill. As it turned out, Illyria in devil form had the ability to duplicate, so thus the Illyrians were born: a mass army of killer devils.
Darla didn’t waste any time. She remembered what Professor Kingsley had said. Illyrians are vicious, but they’re slow. She had the advantage. If only she could shift into a dragon-but the cave was far too cramped. She wouldn’t have enough room to move about.
Darla allowed the magic pooled within her to bubble out like a spring fountain, forming a glimmering golden sword. Darla beamed and slashed the sword through the air, slicing off the head of the first Illyrian. The grotesque devil dropped to the cave floor with a thud, its limp head rolling down.
“Oh, you didn’t know?” Pipperina cooed. “Illyrians always grow back their heads-or any body parts, for that matter. They’re practically unkillable.”
Indestructible devils…she certainly wasn’t prepared for this. If Magixes didn’t work, whatever could she do? Just then, an idea popped into Darla’s mind. Oh, how stupid she was!
Darla reached under her shirt and yanked out the golden dragon necklace, its radiant azure eyes shining bright like a thousand suns. It still possessed great, devil-subduing magic from the Forbidden Magix Charles, Ruby, and Hugo performed on that horrific battle so long ago.
Pipperina screamed as the heavenly golden light pierced the air. The devilfire in her eyes grew brighter and brighter as her bodily flames crackled angrily.
The first two Illyrians immediately crumbled to the floor in a pile of black ash, but the other ones moved fast. Before Darla could react, she felt slimy limbs entangling around her waist. Her necklace slipped off and toppled to the floor.
“Destroy her,” Pipperina snarled. She gripped her head. “And that damn necklace too.”
“Yes, Mistress,” crooned the ghastly yellow devil, its pungent sour scent creeping up Darla’s nostrils. She wanted to vomit. “Oh, Dragon Mage, we can feel the magic inside of you-so ripe, so fresh, so wild. You have power, pretty girl.”
Darla gritted her teeth. An explosion of pain burst into her neck as the Illyrian sunk its rotten brown fangs into her neck. The pain was excruciating, as if someone had filled her body with toxic acids and waste. As black spots clouded her vision, she knew she had to act fast. Noticing her necklace still lying on the floor, Darla quieted her mind. Before anyone could react, the silver dragon tucked firmly in her boot leaped out and swept the necklace onto its outstretched wings, placing it back onto Darla’s neck.
“Sorry!” Darla yelped, snatching the necklace and thrusting it into the face of the Illyrian.
Its gaping mouth widened in a horrified scream as it dropped to the ground in a cloud of dust. There were two more, and Pipperina, watching her intently.
“The Shadow Master said to wait to use this,” Pipperina muttered. “But with that necklace around, we have no choice.”
She swirled her arms around in the air, chanting something unrecognizable. It sounded like an ancient incantation. The shocking truth fell upon Darla’s shoulders as she realized what Pipperina was doing. She was performing devil magic-dark, deadly, and full of sin, hatred, and revulsion to all things good and pure.
Just then, something brilliant in a color Darla couldn’t define leaped out into Pipperina’s hand-a shield of some sort. A peculiar crest was splashed across it. Darla cringed as the light burned into her. It stung like a million hornet stings. She could feel fresh red welts popping onto her skin as she fell to the ground, shielding her face. That shield must have been made out of devilfire, a dragon’s true weakness. The pain was fiery and intense. She wouldn’t last much longer.
A loud boom could be heard, and a raging snarl erupted into the silent cave. Pipperina cussed like a sailor, collapsing to the ground along with that god-awful shield.
Darla jumped up to see a sleek, golden-furred monster, no bigger than a panther. It had the head of a man-a man Darla recognized. She knew those springy strawberry blonde curls and those eyes, the weirdest orange color that she’d never seen before. The boy-the sphinx-was Alfred, who she had met at Ravynna Springs.
“Hey, Darla,” Alfred chirped. “Wren and I have arrived here to help you guys destroy some devils. Hugo’s on his way.”
Alfred let out a fearsome howl, tearing his claws at one of the Illyrians. It let out a pained moan and fell to the ground, grimy black blood pouring out of the open wound slashed across its chest. Darla grimaced, but quickly yanked out her necklace. The two remaining Illyrians could only gasp in shock as they withered away into nothingness.
“Nice,” Alfred complimented. “Now we just have to deal with the Firemonger.”
Pipperina stood up, her white eyes glistening like ice. “That little necklace won’t work on me, Dragon Mage. My new devilfire eyes-and shield-protects me from your pathetic magic. And you’re not leaving here.”
Pipperina let out a scream and threw the shield at Darla. The heat radiating from it made her body turn as hot as lava. She could feel the blood dripping from her body, her flesh slowly peeling off like bark on a tree. Once it collided with her, she’d be a goner.
She braced herself, but felt someone knock her to the ground. Darla howled as her face pressed against the pebbled floor. Her body was worn, sore, and bloodied. Slowly, Darla inched up, cringing in pain. What just happened?
The sight she saw made her freeze, as still as a statue. She didn’t dare believe her eyes. Lying in front of her, with the devilfire shield still resting on his head, was Hugo. His skin was charcoal black, badly burnt and swollen. He lied limp like a ragdoll.
“Looks like I killed your little friend, Darla,” Pipperina simpered, scooping up the shield and skipping away. “I’d kill you too, but I want to see you suffer in agony for a while. See you guys later!”
The only thing Darla wanted to do was cry, but for some odd reason the tears refused to come out. So she stood there, over Hugo’s unconscious, possibly dead body, Alfred at her side, and didn’t say anything at all.
Silence.