XXXVII. Tomorrow Will Never Come

Donough raised his sword and grunted, his weapon squealed in protest as the impact of the demon's axe shattered the tile underfoot. His muscles bulged and tore as he slowly shoved back, succeeding only in sliding the creature's axe off to his left, where it slammed into the tile with such force as to shake the palace to its foundations. With a forceful exhalation, Donough used the last of his strength to thrust his palm into the creature’s chest. The beings flesh rippled from impact, a sonic boom ripped throughout the hallway, knowing over furniture and wall hangings, shattering what glass remained. Still the demon loomed before him, glowing at the impotence of Donough’s attacks. Donough grunted his disgust and sent a concentrated blast of searing white flame into his opponent’s chest. The demon cackled, a wet, retching sound that sent shivers down Donough’s spine.

“Damn it. Enyo! Leave now!” Donough shouted just before he was struck with a right hook.

Donough swung reflexively with his sword as he reeled from the heavy blow, striking the demon in the arm. The cut was glancing, though deep enough to tear through muscle. Seemingly unfazed, the demon lifted its axe from the rubble, and shoulder slammed the still reeling Donough. He careened into the wall, breaking through into the next room. He rose, bloodied and dirty, with an explosion of flame and debris. Donough used a burst of flames to launch himself at the demon once more. He swung, only for the demon to raise its shackled arms to catch his blade. With his weapon immobile, Donough used it as a gymnast’s bar to swing up and strike the creature in the face with a flaming foot. The demon stumbled back a step and Donough wrenched his blade free as he landed, snapping the chains that bound the hulking beast. Upon hitting the ground, Donough swept at the demon’s legs; his blade bounced off harmlessly.

With his shackles broken, the creature's mobility increased, its punches and jabs with the axe were like flashes of lightning. Being so focused on avoiding a cut from the blade, Donough blundered into several jabs and hooks as he stumbled back. His prey cornered, the demon spun its axe like a windmill in a hurricane, transferring it deftly between his hands, and uppercut Donough with the nicked blade. Blood gushed from the wound, the axehead buried in his sternum. Donough forced a grin, and shoved his now superheated blade into the creature’s chest. The demon let out the first audible sound of anguish he had heard since the battle began as metal seared its flesh. The axeman lifted the elf overhead, who still hung from the axe blade. The demon shook its weapon until Donough fell off and collapsed in an unconscious heap. With some difficulty, it withdrew Donough’s blade and discarded it with a snort of loathing.

Behind him, Enyo dragged her blade against the wall to get the demon's attention. Her eyes began tearing at the sight of her presumed dead uncle at the axeman’s feet. The creature looked up and scratched its crotch with indifference. She huffed in rage, flames danced around her as she aimed her sword at the hulking creature. The demon laughed heartily and hefted his axe onto his shoulder as he lumbered forward to confront her. Enyo swore to herself and blasted off on a flume of flames and gust of wind. There was little hope for victory, not after it had so easily bested her uncle, but Enyo was unwilling to surrender, and fleeing was not an option.

She locked her blade with the creature’s axe, floating on the cascading flames beneath her feet. Enyo broke the bind to sling several rapid and haphazard slashes, riding the flames like waves as each impotent strike against his axe knocked her further back. She screamed and swore as she slashed feverishly at his defenses. The axeman advanced, her attacks bouncing off its unnaturally durable hide.

Finally fed up with her pestering, the demon backhanded her, and sent her smashing into a heavy bedroom door. Enyo unsteadily rose to her feet again, the rage fueled determination still burned in her eyes. She torched the miraculously unburned drapes as embers fell like snow from the ceiling. Rage occluded her vision as fire within roiled. The scar that ran across her torso glowed like magma as she struck the wall with a flaming fist. The impact created a burning fissure that radiated around the hole and ran through the length of the wall. The air shimmered with the intense heat that emanated from her.

“Whore of Rhode,” The demon’s voice gravely and sick, “tell me your name so that I may whisper it into thine ear as I have my way with your broken body.”

“I am waster of cities, daughter of war and wrath.” A voice that was not her own spoke from her mouth. “I am a slayer of dreams and petty aspirations. I am Enyo, mother of summer and war; consign yourself to the purging fires of Rhode.”

Just as the heat rolling off her body became intolerable, she was overcome with a pleasant feeling of nothingness, as if her soul were gently removed from her body. Enyo could understand that her body stood before the hulking axeman, but felt as if she were an outside observer. Wings of fire sprouted from her back and condensed into solid forms. Each one covered in the ruffled plumage of a phoenix. She aimed her sword at a window, and swung it at such a speed that the shockwaves blew it out. Enyo flapped her wings once, and rose off the ground about a foot, beckoning for the monster to follow. She leaned in the direction of the hole, and gently floated outside, above the battle ravaged palace and city in chaos.

The demon dropped its axe with a heavy thud, and dragged it on the floor as he made his way over to the hole in the wall. He leapt out to land hard three stories below, without so much as a grimace. Enyo spread her wings, and gently dropped to float just above the snow packed lawn. She flapped her wings slowly, instantly vaporizing the snow and scorching the ground beneath her. She raised her head and opened her eyes to look upon the creature before her. The whites were now black as coal, her iris’ red as flame ringing black pupils.

“Fool…” The demon rumbled in an ancient tongue. “My bulk is of sheer muscle. My flesh is as leather over iron. Your kin lacked the strength to fell me, what gives thou, frail child, the audacity to even attempt?”

“I am wrath, war, vengeance, and all manner of strife.” She replied in the same ancient language, one she had neither heard and certainly not spoke before today. “I do for I know nothing else.”

The demon seemed unprepared for her response. “Ἐνυώ…”

Flames swirled around Enyo as she flapped her wings again. She raised her sword, wrapped in flames, and a sadistic smile spread across her lips. The demon lifted his axe and widened his stance in anticipation of the young woman’s feeble assault. His muscles bulged as he tightened his grip, blood from his chest poured out onto the snow.

“Ἐνυώ…!” he grumbled in rage.

* * *

Maleah swore as she was slashed across the stomach by the talon of a creature with the head wings and legs of an eagle on the torso of a man. She struck back with the butt of her lance, and wrenched free of another demon's grasp as she continued her mad dash outside. She slid and nearly fell as she came to a stop on the icy stones of the central courtyard. Before her was a veritable brigade of reanimated warriors with a lust and hunger for flesh in their glowing flames of eyes. They grinned in delight, rotting flesh hung from blood-blackened bones.

Maleah spun her lance over her hands, glancing back to the fast approaching demons as the horde of undead stirred before her. “Light damn it…”

Maleah struck down a warrior as several more rose up around her, cutting her off from escape and Alice’s unit. She sighed in resignation; the situation was hopeless at best. Unwilling to concede victory just yet, she slashed wildly, spinning her lance as she transitioned from between stances and blows in a graceful dance of death and flashing steel. The bite of a rusty sword across her back brought a scream to her lips. Maleah spun around and dispatched of her attacker with a blunted strike from the flat of her lancehead. Another groping hand clasped her by the thigh as blood from a wound blinded her left eye. A revenant took advantage of her preoccupation and raked her across the abdomen with its fetid claws.

Maleah kicked the demon hard, shrugging off her unwanted passenger in the process. She made an effort to stomp on its skull just as yet another leapt on her back. Blinded and quickly losing strength, she ditched her attacker with a hip toss, and waded through the sea of bloodthirsty undead in no particular direction. The revenants tore at her clothes and nipped at her flesh as she randomly struck out with elbows and fist, unable to maneuver her lance for an effective strike.

A black mist wafted up from the soil, accompanied by a haunting flute melody. The necklace around Maleah’s neck floated up from her blouse and tugged against its chain as it glowed radiantly. The revenants squealed in terror as they were incinerated by the brilliant light that quickly turned to choking darkness. When sight returned, the undead floated away as ash and embers along with the completion of the flautist’s song.

Maleah collapsed to her knee, gasping as she bled out from multiple wounds. The glowing jewel dropped back to her chest as Osric approached from the mist. Maleah fought to stay conscious as her breathing became ragged. She struggled to discern the direction the footsteps through the snow came from. Maleah glared up at her brother as he came to a stop before her. He watched emotionlessly as she tried in vain to staunch the bleeding.

“Did you call off your hounds to finish me yourself brother?” Maleah spat out a mouthful of blood as she tried to stand, still unsure if it were really Osric that stood before her.

Osric remained silent for several moments.

“Well?” She barked before succumbing to a fit of coughing.

“No.” He replied coolly. “And please, stay down; you’re not long for this world.”

“So you come to watch me bleed out then? Bastard.”

Osric took a seat on a stone bench. “If I am a bastard, what does that make you, sister?”

He adjusted his robe and ran a hand through his hair, ever the vain one. They sat in silence for several moments; Osric passively stared into his sister’s eyes as the flicker of life drained from them. Blood spurted from her wounds, she grunted as she ineffectively tried to apply pressure with her hands, not losing the defiant look she held. Osric mused over the situation as he regarded his dying kin with callous indifference.

“Morana,” he spoke, not raising his voice in the slightest.

Morana appeared in a puff of acrid smoke and shower of sparks. She aimed an accusing finger at Osric, but her irritation quickly turned to unbridled malevolence upon seeing Maleah bleeding out in the snow beside her. Whatever color was left in Maleah’s face quickly drained as she caught sight of the witch. Morana smiled sinisterly and raised her hand. A violet glyph formed as she prepared to finish the dying chevalier.

Osric reached up and grabbed Morana by the arm, lowering it. “Morana, stop my sister's bleeding, there is much I would like to speak to her about.”

Morana whipped around to aim a look of unadulterated hatred at Osric, but upon catching the ferocity simmering in his own eyes, she snatched her hand back. The witch waved her hand, causing Maleah to slide across the icy pavement and come to rest at her feet. Maleah fumbled to raise her lance. Morana sighed and kicked the weapon away.

“If you’re going to be squirmy then I won’t even bother.”

Maleah glared at her brother, uncertain of whether she could trust this woman, or the man who commanded her. Osric smirked and laughed, much to Maleah’s disdain.

“She is quite skilled,” Osric waved his hand in a subtle gesture of halfhearted acknowledgment, “though often annoying.”

“Why thank you Ozzy.” Morana said with a mocking tone.

Maleah grinned in spite of herself at the familiar nickname. “Did she just--?”

Maleah cried out in surprise as Morana magically lifted her to her feet and brusquely applied a clay like paste to her wounds.

Osric snarled and looked away. “Maleah, don’t even think of it.”

“Whatever you say Ozzy.” She taunted. “Gods that’s cold!”

Morana wiped away the paste and blood, leaving fresh skin without scars.

“How the hell?”

“The Order is not the only ones who can heal Maleah.” Morana stated proudly. “But do not be mistaken, I have not forgotten what it is you did to me.” She hissed.

Maleah shuddered and backed away, the woman was suddenly terrifying.

“Will that be all Ozzy?” Morana opened a rift in space beside her and turned back to Osric. “I was in the middle of something.”

Osric waved his hand in dismissal.

“See you at home dear.” She sang as she stepped into the portal and disappeared.

Maleah rubbed her stomach, still in awe that way it had been healed. “Who is that woman Osric?”

“…She is my new assistant, or perhaps I am her apprentice. It is difficult to say.” Osric replied dismissively. “But I must apologize for my behavior in the past.”

Maleah stared at her brother incredulously. “You tried to kill me brother, I endured several healing sessions to mend my broken bones, I pissed blood for nearly a week, my lung collapsed…”

Orsic cut his gaze away and urged her to stop with a flippant gesture, his bouncing knee betraying h9is anxiety. “I get the point Maleah.”

“Do you? It was the worst fucking pain I’ve ever experienced. Words alone cannot atone.”

“I do not seek atonement; I don’t seek to erase the sins of my blind obsession. Things will never return to the way they once were, nor do I want them to. I cannot turn from my path, not after having come so far.” Osric stood as a gentle snow fell. “My only wish is to give you the world our father died trying to provide and our mother sacrificed herself for.”

“I hate you Osric. I hate you like The Dusk hates The Dawn. You are no more a brother to me than I am a sister to that elf bitch Enyo. All that ties us are painful memories and a common blood through our veins. If I could purge each drop from my body I would, only my love of Séverin prevents me from seeking out this procedure.”

“Then leave me Maleah, know that if we meet again it will be till death.” His voice carried icy indifference, at odds with the mask of pain he attempted to hide.

Osric drew a glowing glyph which turned to a small violet bubble that quickly enveloped his sister. She pounded against the walls of the sphere, her screams unheard outside of her asylum. Osric swatted her away and the orb blasted off into the horizon.

“…Put your weapons away Séverin, I merely sent her to her destination.” Osric turned to face the hedges and shrubbery.

Séverin stepped out from behind a copse of dead trees and sheathed his daggers.

“I must admit that it is quite strange seeing many of my former students traveling with you. Perhaps I should feel pride.” Orsic turned his gaze towards the sky, arms outstretched as if to embrace the gentle flurry. “How long have you been watching?”

“I arrived as soon as you played that little flute of yours.” Séverin lit a cigarette. “What did you think her response would be?”

Osric turned to give his brother a sheepish grin. “Would you believe me if I told you it was sincere?”

“…Yes, because it wouldn’t be the first time you stuck your foot down your throat and made an ass of yourself.” Séverin held out the cigarette for his brother to take. “The question is what will you do now?”

Osric stared off into the grey skies and levitated his brother’s cigarette to his hands after several moments of silence. “I must continue; there is no other option.”

“You have burned quite a few bridges. All of those we travel with want you dead.”

“They fail to see the grand scheme of things, you all do.” Osric took a hit from the cigarette and returned in the same manner. “I don’t care regardless.”

Séverin smirked and slowly shook his head. “At least you’re as stubborn an ass as I remember Ozzy.”

“Séverin, what the hell…” Osric pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged.

Séverin took another puff and allowed a pregnant silence to linger between them. “Osric, I am a sentimental idiot, one who values family as our father and mother did before us. If you told me you were going to give up this insane ploy and asked for my help, I would protect you with my very last breath.”

“Did you think I would answer yes?” Osric shivered and clasped his hands in his sleeves. “Or tell you to go fuck off?”

Séverin chuckled to himself and brushed away a strand of stray hair. “So it seems you haven’t changed at all. Then you know my response.” Séverin discarded the cigarette, pausing before he ground it into the frozen stones.

Osric idly twisted his hair around his ringed fingers as he continued to stare off into space melancholically. “If that is the way it must end, then so be it. My path is set.”

“Then as is mine.” Séverin replied sadly, as he turned to walk away.

“But answer me this,” Séverin paused as a gust of wind blew a flurry of snow past them. “Why did you allow her to believe the fallacy? Why was she spared the horror that you and I suffered?”

Séverin was silent as he contemplated a response. “So that you and I could also live in her dream world, to maintain her innocence, we were forced to keep up the charade. And for a while, for me at least, I was able to forget the truth. But not the lessons learned.”

Osric pondered his brother’s words for several moments. “Then it seems the only thing that differs is our methods.”

“Do you hate her so Osric?”

“…Yes. Goodbye brother. Pray we can meet again like this before we are forced to destroy each other.”

Osric kneeled down and drew a rune in the dirt, it glowed violet and grew to blinding brilliance before it faded away, taking Osric with it.