Chapter Thirty
End
It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or demons, or by Heaven or Hell.
~Buddha
The last thing Cale remembered seeing as himself - and wholly himself - was blood spurting from Wynella's neck, at the exact same time that Damien's hand had come down and slashed him across his abdomen - a mirrored cut to Gyrad's.
Then something shimmered before her, and then he saw it - that smile he'd grown so used to, tears falling down her fading face, and her mouth forming words that he could barely make out.
And it was then that he sprang into action - just as the roof shattered and something came growling through.
His hands shot up and grappled Damien's wrist, just as the man was moving away, twisting it to the knife clattered to the ground, full of split, blackened blood.
The flames roared and something shifted in them, as the earth beneath them trembled and suddenly, everyone was springing into action.
Gyrad's angry cry sounded out over the wailing of something beyond this world, and out of the corner of his peripheral vision, Cale could see him ripping free of the constraints, cut and all, something sharp in his hands as he sprinted towards him, across the blood-soaked, trembling ground.
He got barely six feet when Faye's leg whipped out, catching him alongside his face and sending him crashing down.
Cale managed to release a smirk - thatta girl.
Damien's gut-wrenching scream hit the air only seconds later and Cale released him, just in time to watch his abdomen impale on itself, pressing against his ribs and his spine so that his very skeleton was outlined, just before it popped apart, spraying Cale with blood in the process.
He didn't even blink as from within the now screaming man, something dark and splotchy crept forth, moaning and clawing at the ground that it slopped at.
Damien reeled back, eyes so wide they looked like they were popping from his skull, and his back slammed against the fire-consumed tablet - subsequently catching fire himself.
Gyrad's yell sounded, causing Cale's eyes to flicker to him just briefly, before turning back to Damien - just then, something reached itself out of the flames, and pulled him into them. And just like that, Damien was gone from sight.
Something loud cracked through the air, and suddenly, everything was shattering - deep breaks in the roof appeared, and beneath them, instead of the second landing of the mansion, there was roiling darkness, hands caked in blood reaching up through the fissures and moans of the damned screeching through the air.
One caught hold of Cale's leg, but he kicked it loose, eyes trained on the flames, the plan he'd formulated since Damien had released him from the cell earlier that night coming to fruition.
He only had one shot at it - and it had to be done to perfection.
If not, they'd all be screwed.
Before Cale could make it two steps, something came whirling through the air at him, and he spun to see a large, calloused hand hurtling towards him.
He bent, and sprung out to the side, catching the arm in a lock and encircling it, bringing his foot up and out into a powerful jaw-breaking kick, sending the large troll reeling away.
"Cale!"
The cry sounded just before Faye's scream went up and he whirled to see Gyrad bent over her, a knife plunged into her abdomen, something entirely evil in his eyes.
"No!" Cale was across the cracking roof more quickly than he'd ever thought he could move, hands closed around the knife that Damien had dropped, eyes only trained on Gyrad, ignoring the confusion and poison surrounding him.
Gyrad's eyes flew up to meet Cale's, a small smirk on his face.
"Too late, baby brother." And then he twisted the knife, causing Faye to screaming out, eyes wide, and something black dripping from her lips.
Then, just as swiftly, Cale brought his knife hand around, the arc clean and sure - slicing through the air and aimed at Gyrad's neck. The blond managed to duck out of the way, whirling with a kick to knock Cale's grip on the knife free, but the dark-haired teen was too fast, tossing the knife up and catching it with his left hand, holding it just as surely as he had done with his right.
He was on top of Gyrad before the blond knew what had hit him, and was bringing the knife down sharply when Gyrad suddenly thrusted himself upwards, throwing Cale back with all his weight.
It managed to off-centre the teen just enough for Cale to slip free, eyes full of fury, and hand grappling for his fallen knife.
Shifting his weight, so that he blocked Gyrad's line to Faye, Cale resorted to right hook, catching Gyrad effectively across the jaw, making the male go spinning.
His gaze trailed to Faye who was coughing up blood, but breathing - and then to the tablet, that was crumbling so quickly, it was like it had been made of sand.
Then a hand shot up and out of it, clawing at the sky, soaked in black, and another hand followed suit.
The blood that hand encircled the tablet was now running up its broken fragments, towards the flailing arms, encircling them, before running down into the gaping, fiery hole.
Something within it screeched - a hungry, needing sound and Cale snarled.
Shit.
"Don't you freaking ignore me!" The hiss sounded only seconds before Gyrad leapt at Cale, knocking him backwards, as the blonde’s hands grabbed as his neck, nothing but hate and contempt and wrath in his eyes. "Your fault! This is all your fucking fault! I told him - I told him not to trust you! But you're always the damn favourite, aren't you?! Always the lovable, convincing one! It makes me fucking sick."
Gyrad dealt out a left hook, causing Cale's head to whip to the side, to get a full view of the thing clawing its way out of the centre of the stone tablet.
Gyrad grabbed the collars of Cale's dress shirt, pulling him up to glare down at him. "And you know what? You think you're so fucking perfect. But you're a demon! Just like all of them! A filthy demon, like the things you hunt! You're not better than me - you're nothing." Gyrad shook at the collar of Cale's shirt, eyes full of flames and odium. "Just like your slut of a Fae. You really want to know why Damien and everyone tried so freaking hard to keep you two apart? Why it was so wrong for you two to be together? Why you felt that familiarity with the little bitch? It's because your demonic blood was reacting to her, little brother." Gyrad bend closer, tone hard and cruel, something high and tense in it. "It's because she's just as fucked up as you are... The two demons that Damien took blood from and put into either of you, they were lovers. Demon lovers. And that's what you two are. Abominations. Every time you fucking kiss her, you're doing a sin. And every time you kiss her now, I want you to think of that." Gyrad pulled back now, a crude, demonic grin on his face. "There's no real connection between you two - no matter what you've convinced yourself of. Just your filthy demon blood trying to do what's in its nature - just the demon inside you, making itself known."
"Cale!"
Both Cale's and Gyrad's heads snapped around just in time to see Faye, knife in hand, cradling her stomach, eyes full of abhorrence as she glared down at the blond, amber hair flying around her face, the flames behind her leaping up, giving her a halo, making her look like a fierce warrior.
"Suck on this, asshole." And then the knife plunged to Gyrad's neck, catching him completely off-guard.
He screamed as he fell back, Faye on top of him, keeping the knife steady in his neck, eyes now on Cale, pleading with him silently to get up.
Gyrad's voice was ringing in his ears and everything was swimming, but Cale got to his feet, tie coming loose and buttons on his shirt popping free. He shed the jacket as he went, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and coming to heads with the enflamed creature crawling free of the hole - it was halfway up now, blackened sop dripping from its head and torso and the hole where its mouth should have been wide and hallowing out a screeching moan that filed in with the shrieks of the night.
In between the cries, Cale could make out phrases of Latin.
"Sanguinem. Sacrificare. Quinque de sex. Ubi est antiquus meus sextus?"
Blood. Sacrifice. Five of six. Where is my sixth?
Six...
Damien was the sixth... but he'd never had a chance to give his blood - the demonic substance within him had grown too strong... He had lost himself.
Even through the craziness - the pain and the cries and the hands caked in blood; the slumped figurine of Jamie, made outlined by the flames; Faye's hunched shape over the still-writhing Gyrad, tears tinged with black blood streaming down her face; Wynella's body, lolled back in her chair, looking pale and her eyes glassy, a ghost of a smile on her face, and no signs of life in her expression - Cale could hear the whispering that had been with him since he'd visited the memory of that night, the night full of blood.
The whispers of the demon within him, asserting itself, gaining control.
Even now, his muscles twitched against his will, and his vision grew cloudy, as he stood before the tablet, straightening his back, knife in hand.
"Vos es non receperint hic. Vestra - num aut missa."
You are not welcome here. Return to your world - or be sent there.
The writhing creature turned its gaze on Cale, mouth gaped and hollow breaths rushing quickly through the hole, hands clawing at the base of the tablet, like it could not get free of it.
"Sexto ubi puer? Child of daemon sanguine. Ubi est antiquus meus sextus?" The creature's gravelly voice shook the already trembling earth. "Tu potestatem adversum me ullam, daemon masculum. Lex nondum vacavit."
Where is my sixth, child? Child of demon blood. Where is my sixth? You have no power over me, demon child. The ritual is not yet complete
Something cold and wet wrapped around Cale's leg, and a soft moan crept up his back, but his eyes never wavered from the demon caked in blackness.
"I non dimittet vos per." Cale's voice was cold and driving as he stared down the hollow hole of the demon, creeps of the other demons and damned around, and the craziness surrounded him fading to a noiseless banter, only one thing on his mind - sending this thing straight back to Hell. "Hoc planum non licet tibi."
I will not let you through. You are not permitted in this plane.
A low rumble sounded and it took Cale a moment to realize the tremble was a deep, scathing laugh.
"Non habetis mei potestatem introitus! Tua est, nec sanguine sanguis qui vocavit me remittas." The demon spat and its mouth was gaping now, something roiling in its black pits.
You have no power over my entry! You cannot send me back but without the blood of him who hath called.
Anger lilted its tone and somewhere in the distance, Cale heard something crack and a scream went up, almost shaking his concentration.
Then the demon lurched forward - still trapped half in the other dimension, and half in the world around it - its fingers clawing at the sides of its crumbled altar, and another rumble sounding; this one thoughtful and prying.
"Quamvis .... Essentia habes in te. Unus plus quam tu daemon sanguis, puella. Unum altioribus rerum deferéntes ... Vis saluare mundum? Ergo reliquam..." The demon now reeled back, its mouth wide and the tones of its gravelly voice amused.
Although.... you have an Essence within you. One more than you demon blood, child. One of Higher Bringing... You wish to save your world? Then I shall leave...
Cale waited, no emotion playing on his beautiful face, his expression cold - there was no way in hell it was that easy.
Then another rumble sounded - another laugh from the black-covered devil.
"Non accipiam vos ad me."
But I shall take you with me.
A moment - it only took a moment for Cale to make his decision.
His golden eyes hardened, his jaw tightened and his pupils dilated - just a fraction - before his lips parted to respond, orbs flashing.
"Cale! STOP!"
The shock of the unexpected voice threw him, and he spun, eyes searching for the source.
There, in the midst of the rising demons and blood and gore, was none other than Jesebelle, ebony hair whipping around her shoulders, something urgent in her eyes as she ducked out of the way of what seemed to be a second troll - only this one was coated in blackened, weak, vaporous demons, who could barely attach themselves to the world around them, so they were attaching themselves to the nearest tether. It was a spill over.
Suddenly something reared up behind Jesebelle - large and black and dripping with flames, something rasping and hollow coming from its mouth as it lurched towards her, its clawed hands raking for her turned back.
He made it to her just in time to shove her out of the way, as the huge demon came crashing down, a resounding scream echoing through the chaotic night as it writhed where Jesebelle had been - blind and searching
"What in the hell are you doing here?" Cale snapped, glaring over at the altar where the demon was wriggling, other demons attaching themselves to it, and then being subsequently devoured by their more powerful counterpart, causing it to grow larger and get farther from its crumbling prison.
He made an attempt to start back to it when Jesebelle grabbed his arm, flames in her eyes and urgency in her tone.
"I know what you're about to do - and you can't." She began, eyes flashing.
Irritation sprung through Cale like a flood and he ripped his arm away from her, a coldness creeping into his golden orbs. "I don't have time for this - we don't have time for -"
"There's another way!" Jesebelle cut across him, hair flying around her face. "Santino figured it out - there's another way, Cale."
A sharp, rumbling growl ripped apart the roof and suddenly bits and pieces of the cement were falling away to a black nothingness below, heat reigning up through the broken shards and flames coated in black stretching for the sky, naked bodies of the damned writhing within them, tears of blood raking down their faces and agony in their screams.
"The demon - the one Damien has raised; it's a Devorantem demon - a Swallower. There are only three of them powerful enough to cross the planes between the worlds and to bring this much havoc with them... They devour worlds Cale, and leave nothing in their wake. And once the ritual to raise them has started, nothing can bring it to its end - 'a demon who turned for salvation to be sacrificed, and the Swallower shall be awoken - and the world itself shall end in flames and darkness'."
"I know that - why the hell do you think I didn't kill Alcork when I had the chance? He told me that, Jesebelle, when he left the cell doors open for me to follow him just before the blood-letting began - and he also told me that Gyrad had started the ritual and that there was no way to stop it, once it had been set in motion - that the Swallower would raise itself, regardless of who was waiting on the other side."
"And so - what, you were planning on giving yourself to it? On sending it back when it came peeking through the other side? Do you have any idea what that would mean for you?!" Jesebelle hissed.
A stab of pain riddled through Cale's body, almost crippling him where he stood - he left a warm line of blood run its way down from his nose. "It's better than the alternative."
"It isn't the only alternative. Santino -" Jesebelle was cut short when something swung out of nowhere, shattering the earth apart right in front of her, making her reel back.
Between them, covered in lecherous Vaporous demons, and howling in pain, was a troll, its eye blood red and his mouth agape, as its edged teeth dripped with blood and something long and heavy in its hands.
Then it swung again - this time at Cale.
Before he could move, another stab of pain shocked him and something gave a loud 'crack' as an acute throb sounded in his abdomen - a sign of a rib breaking.
The demon-covered troll bore down on him almost instantly, pinning him beneath it as the demons themselves lunged towards his body, searing and ripping the now bloodied white dress-shirt and pants, clawing hungrily for his skin in an attempt to latch on.
Somewhere in his mind, amidst the clawing and aching and bedlam, Cale could hear the throaty chuckle of the thing enclosed within him.
Let me out.... let me save you...
The exact same words it had spoken at that time in the clearing in Mirror, when he'd been in the horde of Vapours, with no chance of escape.
Set me free.
Then there was a yell in a language he did not know and the weight was off him and flying, before it crashed a little ways away, screaming as yet more demons swarmed its twitching body.
Jesebelle's face came into view, hair haywire and expression worried. "There's no time, Cale. Santino's ritual will work only if two things are done - first, a demon itself that has already spilled through to this plane has to bond itself to the Swallower, acting as a tether to this earth, keeping it stuck between our worlds and at a fraction of its power. Then, it's the hard part - we need to dispatch the demon attached to the Swallower, returning it to its world... and the only way to do that is to attach yourself to the demon - which, if not timed exactly correct, will trap you as well." She reeled down closer to him, and he could see the specks of golden brown in her eyes. "I would never ask anyone to do this to themselves, Cale - but this is it. There's no other option and I can't allow this -"
"I'll do it." Cale cut across her, as another rib within his body cracked, sending agony through his limbs and making him wince, just briefly, before sitting up, eyes hard. "I'll do both of them. Give me the Wording."
Without hesitation, Jesebelle reached into her skirts, coming back with an ancient, rolled parchment, pressing it into Cale's waiting palm, something unreadable in her eyes.
"Schatten... you should know... Da-"
The hand came up before either one of them could register it.
The smooth, pale skin wrapped around Jesebelle's throat, cutting off her words and suddenly Gyrad veered into view, no longer the depiction of an angel - his green eyes were alight with fury and hate and his blond hair was matted with blackened blood, which careened down his face, streaking marks like tears down his ruined cheeks.
Cale moved forward instantly, fist crashing into Gyrad's jaw, sending him reeling and forcing him to release Jesebelle, who went down wheezing, grabbing at her crushed throat.
The golden-eyed teen bore down on his blond counterpart, who writhed beneath him as he dealt out another right-hook, making bright red blood spew from his lips.
Where Cale's punch had connected, some of his skin sloughed off, showing the red network of bloodied veins beneath.
Desperately, with blood still gushing from the neck wound Faye had dealt him, Gyrad reached for Cale's neck, managing only to latch onto his collar before Cale's fist made contact with his face again.
And then there was a numbing howl as three things happened at once - the mass of flesh and muscle that Jesebelle had sent flying came crashing back, grabbing at Cale, briefly immobilizing him as the demons on it latched themselves to his clothing; another rib burst apart within him, and blood came out in a sporadic cough, making him crumble to his knees as that throaty chuckled revered in his head; and Gyrad, palm full of demon blood, came reeling at his black-haired brother yet again, shoving his full hand towards his mouth.
The blood trickled its way down Cale's throat, as though his body was yearning for it, meeting no resistance as it was forced down.
His limbs grew still, and his breathing laboured.
Everything and everyone around him fell away, and suddenly - he was no longer on the Hell-covered rooftop of Damien Alcork's mansion.
Beneath him, he could feel the wooden flooring of the room he'd visited so many times in his dreams.
But it was different now.
There were no bodies and there was no Jamie.
There was only fire and wood.
And a shadow, sitting leisurely in a chair dripping with blood, its face unreadable, but he knew that there was a smile residing there.
"Here, you kept me prisoner - slave to emptiness and nothingness and silence." The voice was that of crackling fires and breaking glass and agonized screams - and yet it was all strung together in something barely human, but understandable.
"Here, I was slave to your whims and decisions - decisions that weakened us, that caused us to feel empathy for those too weak to defend themselves."
The fire raged around them, and the room was melting as Cale sat there, unable to move, and the shadow came forward, soft 'splats' sounding as it moved, leaving bloody, black footprints in its wake.
"It is time - time to embrace what you truly are. To leave the earthly ties behind." The shadow was on him now, reaching a hand - slowly, but surely - towards his throat. "It is time to lose Cale, and embrace Schatten."
Fingers grazed Cale's skin.
Pain erupted from inside.
And bright red blood sprayed the melting room.
As the wooden roof came falling in and the fires raged all around, a soft whisper echoed through the noise.
And all was done.
Gyrad crawled away from Cale's writhing figure, pain echoing through his body with every movement, but somehow, he still managed to stay upright.
Everything around him was going to Hell - both literally, and figuratively.
He could see the hunched body of the orange-haired Hunter bitch that had tried to stab him to death to save her precious little Schatten - he'd had to teach her a very painful lesson, to which she'd stopped breathing; the broken body of his so-called mother, who was breathing very slightly into pools of her own blood, something black leaking from her closed eye sockets - served the little slut right; and even the wheezing form of the witch he'd strangled, feeble sparks of light flying from her fingers as she fought herself into a sitting position, the vaporous demons steering clear of her, even though even he could feel the strength pouring off her body - he'd take care of her later.
Right now, he had a goal.
A goal Damien had been too weak to see come to fruition.
He'd seen the man get pulled into the hole the Devorantem demon had crawled from and he couldn't even bring himself to care - if the man had been stronger, smarter, none of this would have happened. If he hadn't had trusted that little brat, Cale, they'd have raised the Devorantem and the entire worthless world would have been nothing but a barren wasteland, and they'd had moved on, seeking a new plane to rule.
But, just like he had with the Jamie woman, Damien had given too many chances. Had been too willing to let them join his cause - too willing to trust; too desperate for their acceptance. He should have seen it from the second he'd dismissed him to start the ritual on his own, and then gone down to the cells for his wayward son that something had been amiss. Hell, Gyrad should have known when he'd gone down to the cells to taunt his pathetic little brother some more and found the cell doors wide open with only the sleeping amber-head to keep its three walls company.
But no, he too had been too empathetic towards his master - his father. Had let him have his way, hoping that just once, he'd not look at him with that cold look that he always did, the one that said 'You were the failed one... you were the one that turned out wrong.". And now, look where empathy had gotten him.
Humanity is weak. Why be human, when you can be so much more?
Emotions were limiting - they caused you to do foolish things. And now? Now, Gyrad would right his wrongs. Now he knew he would need no one but himself, and his skin.
Almost immediately, the change took place.
His screams bounced around the rooftop, seeming almost inaudible compared to the ruckus echoing about him, his skin seeming to drip off like wax from a candle.
The agony, like it was every time, was damn near unbearable.
Tears sprung to his eyes and he curled in on himself, his skin dropping in dull 'splats', exposing his tender flesh beneath to the harshness of the surroundings.
He could almost hear the Vapour demons whispering, watching, yearning - never before must they had seen a Skin Walker; or maybe if they had, it had been centuries since. His kind had all but died out - but Damien had found a way to create him - a unique masterpiece, a deploring newness.
And still, he hadn't been enough.
Not even seconds after he'd shed his old skin, had the new one started to grow in its place - it was a paler shade than his own, and the hair that spring from his new scalp was not blond, but a dark, roguish black. A lightly stubbled beard formed on his chin and his eye colour dialled back to a light grey, as his body stretched and crumbled in on itself, shrinking just slightly, and his muscle mass grew, shifting into its new skin.
Gyrad was a puddle on the floor. Now, he was Damien Alcork, the Man In The Red Cloak, in every likeness.
His chest heaved, now covered with a light downing of thin, black hair, and beads of sweat rolled down his strong jaw, as he stumbled to his feet, hands scraping craps of old skin before he righted himself, whirring to face the Devorantem.
It was even bigger than he remembered - towering over everyone there - and its powerfulness ran like streams off its blood soaked body as it writhed and thrashed, trying to break free of its confining space, angry moans ripping from its large hole of a mouth.
A smile crossed his face as his hair hung limp around it - this was what he was meant for.
He stumbled forward, past Vapours who cleared from his way and crumpled bodies of beings he didn't give two shits about, eyes trained only on the Devorantem across from him.
"Sexto, cognatus-unus! Ubi est antiquus meus sextus!?" Came the rumbling growl, as it thrashed and bits of rock flew from the broken altar.
My sixth, kin-one! Where is my sixth?!
Gyrad stirred before it, black hair falling into his eyes as he looked up at its magnificence, wonder and envy deep-set in his grey eyes.
Then, almost reverently, he raised a hand - "Vestra sum sextus. Cum sanguine liberari."
I am your sixth. With my blood, be freed.
"NO!" Came the screeching yell, just as Gyrad dug heavily into his newly skinned arm and red blood came spilling out, splattering at the opening on the demon's Portal.
And then the entire roof was crumbling and the screams grew in volume and the Devorantem crashed forward, into the blood, reeling out of its cage, mouth agape as it breathed in - and suddenly everything was flying towards its gust, being sucked into it, and making it grow bigger.
Gyrad's grey eyes shone with admiration.
And then something knocked into him, sending him down, and he caught a glance of amber hair before he felt the knife at his chest, piercing through his new skin.
"You bastard - I'm going to gut you where you lie." She snarled, green eyes ablaze with fury - the marks of knife scars were still bright red on her cheeks and chest; deep cuts sure to leave marks.
Her hair flew about her face as she lifted the knife to plunge it in - but not before a leg came whipping around, catching her alongside her head, sending her down beside Gyrad.
And over him, stood none other than Cale Schatten.
And yet, it wasn't him.
Black eyes. Hair dripping with blood. And an almost companionable smirk on his dirt-streaked face.
"You're the one, who freed me." Was Cale's notation - but his voice was nothing like its previous host's. It was darker, and more lethal - and hollow. Containing no emotion at all.
"I am." Was Gyrad's breathy reply.
Cale cocked his head, black eyes flashing almost genially - so genially, that he never saw the foot coming down on his hand before he heard all five fingers crack with a loud 'snap'.
A cry of pain left his lips as Cale bent down, that same smirk still on his face. "You shouldn't have taken so long."
"Rh'ollor."
Slowly, Cale's body stiffened, before he turned, black eyes wary, but still as empty as his voice.
They fell on Jesebelle, who had Vapours seemingly all over her now-exposed leg and some new ones attaching to her arms, but she was still standing strong, eyes hard.
"I haven't heard my name in almost a millennia, she-witch - not since I was trapped in this plane, too weak to do much of anything by that bastard, Joseph Mclakra Alcork. Tell me - is he still alive? I'd like to wring his skinny little neck with my own two hands."
"He died centuries ago. The year is now 2012, much different from the 1732 world that you remember so vividly."
"Pity, really." Rh'ollor's smirk seemed almost ghostly on Cale's face. "But it's a nice feeling - being free. Almost forgot how it good it was."
"That body is not yours to claim, Rh'ollor." Jesebelle's tone was cold, but her eyes kept flickering past Cale's figure, to the Devorantem behind him - the one that was almost thrice the size it had been since being raised, and getting even bigger.
"I did not ask to be imprisoned within it, she-witch. Imagine - going from one cell to the other. Only to have this one suppress me so much more than the one before. I'd thought it'd be easy to take the body of a child - almost too easy. I'd wondered if the Alcorks were getting dim - after all, I'm one of the Six, some of the most powerful demons in Beyond. And yet, this kid managed to suppress me - even to control me to the point in which I was confined to nothing but a small section of his brain, with no influence whatsoever." He tilted his head, and now his black eyes were full of hate. "I remember you though. At first, I thought I should owe his success to you and your pathetic little spell; as well as the will of this one's birthing mother. But it didn't take me long to realize the little brat had quite the will of his own." Then he raised his hands, gesturing about him, the smirk back again. "But what does it matter? I am freed. And even better, I have realized that a prize awaits me upon my arrival - I though one of the Alcorks to have destroyed her all those years ago, but it turns out she was even closer than realized.... Ah, right on time." Came Rh'ollor's throaty chuckle.
The figure of the lithe teen emerged from behind Jesebelle, her wavy black hair blowing into her face and sweat mixing with blood on her forehead, giving her the appearance of being slashed with knives, but somehow, still shakily on her feet.
Her dress was in tatters, her she was cradling a wound in her neck, but there was an almost eerie blue-glow to her skin, and Jesebelle's fingers were still zapping sparks, making it obvious what had happened.
"Though you may not be fully my Enbordien, her blood still runs in your veins." Rh'ollor's voice was hungry and his eyes leering as they raked over Wynella's shattered body. "I wonder if you'll taste as sweet as she did all those years ago in Beyond. Funny, how it could be that long ago, and my yearn for her still be so strong - no wonder why the connection between my host and yourself was ever so palpable. In fact, you should thank me, my dear Fae - without me, he wouldn't have spared you a second glance."
Something wet glinted in Wynella's eyes as she hunkered in Jesebelle's shadow, blood gushing through the fingers locked on her neck.
"Enough." Jesebelle spat. "Let's end this, Rh'ollor, once and for all. Relinquish the boy, or we shall all be devoured by the Devorantem, and you'll be imprisoned once again."
"Save your petty annoyances for someone else. This is not the only plane there is - and it was never a plane I liked. Why should I give up this body to turn to nothing but vapours and smoke, when there are worlds to be plundered, and woman to see - both supernatural and otherwise?" He paused, smirk falling on Wynella's hunkered body yet again. "But, of course, there's always a place for you, Enbordien - if you're willing to share again."
"Don't... call me that." Wynella managed to pant out, pain in her voice, but her tone insisting. "Don't...ever... call me that."
"It's who you are." Rh'ollor shushed her, eyes sharp. "The both of you shun what makes you you, but I'll never let either of you forget it - demon blood. That's all you'll ever be. One of us."
As if on cue, a sharp crack sounded and suddenly a bellowing yell ripped apart the night, startling even Rh'ollor. The demon stumbled, just briefly, spinning just in time to see the Devorantem's now huge palm raking down through the sky, right towards him.
His eyes widen, and for a second, he was frozen.
Then a soft body slammed into his, knocking him out of the way, as another bellow sounded and the palm crashed down, letting off a blast of fire and smoke as it disintegrated everything within its reach.
Rh'ollor blinked once, then twice, as Wynella's shape, hunched over him, with legs straddling him and soft hands gripping his shirt with tears streaming down her face, came into view.
The smirk that was never far found his lips again. "I knew you were in there, Enbordien. I knew you would -"
He never got the chance to finish.
Wynella's mouth came down and latched onto his neck in what he first suspected to be a kiss - but then she was sucking at his throat, and her arms - suddenly stronger - were pinning him down, and all at once, he knew what she was doing - what all the Fae did to collect their food. Eating Essence.
He felt his body grow weak as he attempted to put his guard back up - to stop the process from taking place and throw her off him - but she was too far in, and his limbs were giving out on him; still so very human, as his blackened blood had not yet fully asserted himself.
Lights faded away from his eyes as he struggled beneath the Feeding Fae, and he gasped as he was sucked into the darkness that he'd only just broken free from.
Emptiness.
Not quite a prison, but restricting.
It was there that he found himself, blinking awake as nothing but darkness filled his golden eyes.
He was lying down, though there was nothing beneath him, and yet, he was propped up against something, though there was nothing to be propped up against.
Time no longer mattered, but he could still hear the malicious ticking of an old-fashioned pocket watch, somewhere far away.
He wondered, just briefly, where he was. But the answer was obvious: nowhere.
And he was relieved for that - because if he was nowhere, then there was no need to feel anything.
No pain. No stress - no burden.
And that felt better than everything combined.
But then flashes of memories of an old life consumed him - reaching, telling, screaming for him.
But he could not move. Could not answer them.
And then his name returned to him, and he remembered and suddenly the darkness of nowhere was nothing more than a cage, and there were flames all about him, and he was strung up in a hellish nightmare.
Darkness.
Emptiness.
Pain.
Nothing more than a demon - like he'd always been. Nothing more than the blood that Damien had injected him with.
And then, unbidden, the words of the warlock - the one he hadn't liked much - came to him, like whispers caressing the skin; the only reprieve in the onslaught of agony and immobilization and helplessness.
"Did she tell you that Damien's little experiments on you when you were younger didn't just include demon blood?"
More pain; another burst of agony in the darkness of nowhere. Another riddle from the warlock's lips.
"No mere human can control demonic blood... The mere fact that you've been given a choice to let it in or not... Doesn't that say something to you?"
'I don't believe in that... no matter what I've seen, I've never believed in that.'
On his chest, just below the base of the neck - something stung, burning a shape into his skin.
The shape of a cross.
"Light balances out dark, Cale... never forget that. Light balances out dark."
The sting grew more and more intense.
The darkness more and more unbearable.
The flames licked and clawed at his skin, raking him raw.
And yet, the words bounced around his mind, toying with it, entertaining the thought.
Light to darkness.
Then something glistened, just in the distance, and he could hear - hear crying and sobbing. Hear his name being called, and soft hands on his chest.
And the light in the darkness shone, just a little brighter, but still so far away.
But he reached for it anyhow.
The flames reached too, trying to hold him back, and there was a loud, gravelly hiss of 'NO!' as he felt something else try to hold him back, to devour him - a shadowy hand wrapping itself around his arm, trying to pull him back.
The sobs grew louder. The light shone brighter.
And within the darkness, something reached for him, something shining all on its own, pulling him free of the grasp, and propelling him forward towards the light.
And just before he was shoved through it, he saw the flash of a face, bathed in golden likeness, a small smile on an innocent face, and then the night sky above was all that there was.
A blink.
Then another.
Salty tears were dripping down his cheek, but he knew he wasn't the one crying.
Her hair flew into his face as her hands shook his shoulders, her brown eyes - human eyes - full of wetness and regret and sorrow as she screamed his name, fear clear in her voice.
Another blink.
And for a second, she froze, before she hunkered down, wrapping her arms around his neck and sobbing into it, relief clear in her cries.
"You're okay... You're okay."
"...Wynella." His voice came out raspy, but it was his own all the same - his golden eyes blinked, clearing the tears she'd cried into them.
"It's me." She breathed into his neck, pulling him tighter, lips brushing his skin. "It's really me."
The soft skin of her lips made him lost to the world and he felt his hands coming up to embrace her and pull her closer - to breathe in her scent, and run his fingers through her wavy hair and feel her. And he suddenly wanted to press his lips to hers and forget everything around them, just to convince himself she was really okay.
Then a sharp scream echoed and they broke apart and when he looked around, he felt his heart stop.
The Devorantem was nearly freed.
Its towering body was now twice the size of the mansion itself, only one of its legs trapped within the confines of the altar, its gigantic figure blotting out the night sky above. Blood rained from its skin and lesions of demonic Vapours hung like leeches from it, swelling it in size. Its screech was enough to shatter glass, and in the far distance, Cale could hear some cracking apart, as the demon bore down, its mouth agape as it took a huge gasp - and with it, sucking up entire trees, cement blocks and some of its own kind, causing it to grow even bigger.
The smell was horrible, and the noise crippling; but somehow, Cale was finding his way to his feet, putting himself between the demon, and the hunched, bloodied Wynella.
"There's no way to stop it...." The voice was almost a whisper - so soft, that at first, Cale thought it was within his own head, but he turned to see Jesebelle, on her knees, hair whipping around her face, as she watched the demon careen forward, arms raking up and out, clawing at the sky, as though it hoped to break through. "This is it... We couldn't stop it... It's over."
Cale's hands moved of their own accord, reaching for the parchment the witch had given him earlier - only to discover that it was missing.
His vision blurred and his limbs felt weak, and a spot on his neck was still stinging - a sign that he hadn't simply imagined Wynella Feeding on him.
"We can't... we can't let this happen." His vision warped and he found himself on one knee, breathing heavily, trying to keep the Devorantem in view as his hair whipped about his head. "We have to..."
"Too late, Schatten."
And suddenly, there was a scream, and Cale spun, just in time to see none other than Damien Alcork, hands wound through Wynella's hair as he tugged her forcefully away from the group, towards the Devorantem, eyes hateful.
But this wasn't the Damien Alcork that Cale had seen sucked into the vortex within the altar - this Damien had skin dripping from the knuckles of his right hand, all the way to the bone, and skin falling in soft 'splats' from his cheek as the fury on his face built.
Cale made to grab for Wynella, but his head spun, and he was brought to his knees again - helpless. In control of his body again, but powerless to stop Gyrad from dragging Wynella away.
She clawed at his hands and Jesebelle made motion to stop him, but a hulking, black figure was in her path, reaching for her, and sending her down in a heap of black flames and bruising red-blue sparks.
"It's too late, for all of you! You tried to stop me, but I prevailed! I did this! I ended your precious little fucked-up world. Damien convinced himself that he was saving it, but me? I know better! This plane is weak - and new ones await me. And there - I'll finally get the respect I deserve." Gyrad ended up by the altar, Wynella still in tow, and by then, almost all of his skin was gone, so he was a walking mass of muscle and blood.
Cale started forward again, but was moving too slow - much, much too slow.
In Gyrad's hand, glinted a knife.
He turned his eyes up onto the still partially-trapped Devorantem, eyes full of wonder and almost-love, as he pulled Wynella up by her hair, barring her neck to the base of the altar. "The final cherry atop the cake. More strength for the Devorantem to release it from its final tether, and finally ridding myself of your burden, Abella. Or whoever the fuck you are now."
Then the knife came crashing down and suddenly, Faye was there - amber hair whipping about her face as she grabbed Gyrad's knife hand and twisted, making him scream and release Wynella, as she crumbled to the floor.
The two struggled for the knife as the Devorantem raged above them, and then Gyrad slipped, his feet going out from under him, and Faye came down on top, stabbing the knife through his already mangled hand, pinning him to the cracking cement below.
Simultaneously, she unsheathed an ancient, folded parchment note, and was reading hastily from it, dried and new black blood on her lips, as she used the edge of Gyrad's knife to slash both her wrists, holding the wounds over the opening of the altar, and watching as the blood ran down.
Suddenly, the Devorantem reeled around, its mouth gaping down at her, as she read her hasty Latin, letting the parchment slip between her fingers and fly away into the chaotic night, straightening up, as she called up to it, Latin still pouring from her lips.
Even from his distant, disoriented state, Cale could just make out a few of the words.
"Deligati ... ad mortem."
Bound... unto death.
And even though, somewhere within his mind, he knew what she would do next - nothing prepared him for the moment.
Without even the slightest bit of hesitation, Faye climbed up onto the crumbling altar that the Devorantem was now lumbering back towards in an attempt to reach out and grab her, and - with a final look in his direction, and a watery smile, that blackened blood still dripping from her lips as they formed words for him that he couldn't quite make out - she stepped off the edge, and disappeared from sight.
His yell of protest was lost to the wind as the Devorantem reared, a scream so other-worldly ripping from its hole, that blood leaked from Cale's ears as the demon began to swell uncontrollably, hideous bulges erupted from its murky, blackened skin, as it folded in on itself, and burst apart; the explosion rocking the rooftop, and whatever was left of it, crumbling away beneath them to rubble and ruin.
And he would have fallen too, if Jesebelle hadn't grabbed him just in time, whispering a language foreign to his ears, and suddenly, they were weightless, watching the mansion crash to the ground and what was left of the Devorantem roiling and reaching and clawing and screaming, as it too was pulled down into the blackness.
A little ways away, Wynella herself was floating within Jesebelle's separate spell, unconscious, but clearly alive.
And Faye...
"Faye... Falyla... You have to let me - I have to go get her." Cale struggled in Jesebelle's cool grasp as the world crashed down around him, and the sky was full of nothing but screams and demons. "Let me go! I have to -"
"It's too late, Cale. She's gone." Jesebelle whispered to him, keeping a firm grip on him as he attempted to tear free of her hold. "Your body can't take much more exertion - you have to calm down. Calm down."
"I have to..." Cale's voice broke apart as something in his skull shattered and flashes of colours and faces - of Jamie and Wynella and Faye and even Damien Alcork - passed behind his orbs, followed by so many questions that he couldn't get past his lips, before a curtain of darkness fell over him, and devoured him whole.
Voices.
Concerned tones.
Soft, gentle hands.
A soft ringing in the distance. A ticking of a clock on his body.
"Blood-level dropping. Keep a Reviver on hand. Can you help me with that woman? She lost a lot of blood."
Shifting. Shuffling.
"We'll need a cover story - a human's sure to stumble across this at one point."
"Abandoned lot. Some teens went partying. The usual."
"All the way out here?"
"Wouldn't be the first time."
Strapping. Something stiff against the neck.
More whispering.
Hushed gasps of wonder.
"We're too late - we're always too late out here. We should have sent scouts ahead while we were making official decisions."
"Shoulda, woulda, coulda. We're here now - that's what matters, Leviola. Have you seen any traces of the Demon Readings we got on the Amplifier?"
"No. The trail's completely cold. Whatever these kids did, they wiped it out clean."
"Yeah, and they're within an inch of their lives. I count two teens, and the woman. I thought Skapper said there were four - a blond kid. What happened to him?"
"Who knows? I - oh shit, we're losing this one; Reese! The Reviver! Now!"
Screams. Rushed footsteps.
Then - thankfully - nothing.