Dragon Realm Scorch

Orange sand swept for miles around Uther, an empty plane of curving dunes. He lifted the collar of his black cloak against the warm sand pelting his face as he waited. The body of a small female yikahti laid at his feet, her neck twisted and broken. A shadow portal opened up mere feet from him as four individuals stepped out. Two he knew well; the other two, clad in white, not so much.

“You late. Uther be waiting here for many time. Sand gonna bury the seal further,” spat Uther.

“Patience, friend,” said Inle as he walked besides the towering man. He squatted to cup and trickle the grainy sand through his hand. “The seal is under here? How are we supposed to find some puny seal under an ocean of desert like this? How was anyone supposed to find this place?”

“Young Silent Master, no one was supposed to find it, that is the point,” said the Collector, unsheathing a sword of a constantly flowing wind. It let out a long whistle as the yikahti handled it. “Stand aside you two. You don't want your skin blasted off.”

“What is going on here?” asked Elucard. “Who is the giant?”

The Collector lowered his strange sword and bowed. “Ah yes. Uther, I would like you to meet our Ghost Fox friends. I suppose it is as good a time as any to finally learn your two names.”

“Gevin,” Elucard said coolly.

“Cutter,” said Wiccer, just as quick as his partner.

The Collector grinned. “Now step behind me, my friends.”

The two Dead of Winter and two Ghost Fox members stepped backwards, giving the Collector space, weary of his condensed hurricane-like blade.

The cat raised his sword aloft and struck it down into the sand. A massive burst of dust and particles exploded away from him and scattered with the rush of wind manifested by the sword.

In moments, the sand was cleared away leaving a massive stone platform that lay just under the surface. On top of the platform was an intricate design of shapes encased by several overlapping circles. The seal was huge, spanning the size of a small city.

“My, my, this wasn’t some tiny glyph after all,” said Inle with a high pitched, excited whistle, “shovels alone would not come close to unveiling such a wonder.”

“Yes, Inle, this complex symbol took an assembly of the most skilled priests and scholars to write the seal. It would need to take that level and number of adept scholars to break it,” explained the Collector, “It’s a shame we are not adept scholars.”

Uther chuckled.

The Collector lifted his eyes to the sky and smiled. “All that Wraslyn spoke of was true. The seals exist. The world will soon change and begin a religious revolution like no other has ever dreamed before.”

“A Celestial Seal?” Elucard fumbled out, then clamped his mouth shut, regretting his outburst. He knew a thing or two about celestial studies, thanks to Jetta's knowledge of angelic lore, but it would be unwise to reveal that to their enemy. However, the sight of something so grand, so magnificent, in both power and beauty, had gotten the best of him.

The Collector turned curiously to Elucard. “You are educated, Gevin?”

“My Master had me study ancient academics as well as speak the old tongues. I am no scholar, but I am no idiot either,” lied Elucard, not missing a beat.

“A blade is only as sharp as the Rabbit wielding it, eh my friend?” said Inle, with a cool smirk strewn across his face.

“Wise words to live by,” Elucard scowled under his mask. Sweat beaded down his face. The desire to slice Inle’s throat ran through him, flaring higher now more than ever. Both Inle and Elucard had to keep a dark silence in this dangerous game they played.

“Gevin, a word.” Wiccer pulled Elucard off to the side, out of earshot of the Dead of Winter members. “A Celestial Seal? What exactly are we dealing with, Elucard?”

“They mean to break the gateway between the heavens and the Mortal Plane. The gods will be unleashed onto our world – but it can't be done. Not even Atila himself – the greatest mortal hero that our world has ever known – could break this seal alone.”

Uther knelt down, taking a small vial from his belt. It was filled with a strange, black, volatile substance. Once he pulled the cork top loose, the gloop seemed to jump out and pour into the carved grooves of the seal.

The great rumbling of stone breaking down and cracking underneath them drowned out the the sound of the sticky, bubbling ooze.

“It looks like they are doing it. What will this lead to?”

“We're well over our heads, Wiccer.” Elucard scratched his head nervously. “The seals were created because the wars between the angelic pantheon left a wake of destruction and misery on this world. Men were forced to fight in their wars. Millions died, countries were torn asunder.

The world wouldn't survive another war of the gods. We have to put a stop to this.”

Wiccer froze. They were the only two that could keep this seal from being broken.

“Wiccer?” Elucard snapped his fingers, “Can you do this?”

Wiccer clenched his teeth. Could he do this? The more optimal question was, did he have a choice? No. But it was time to push his past failures back into the shadows of his mind and take up his sword once again. Could he do this? It didn’t matter, he had to. Wiccer pulled off his mask and drew his sword.

Elucard smiled and matched his companion's actions. “We might die here. No one will bury our remains.”

“Then I will die a soldier, proud to serve the realms. No more running,” grinned Wiccer.

“No more running, I can get behind that,” smirked Elucard.

They approached the three villains with purpose, quickening their pace into a full-blown sprint. They did not roar a war cry. Their feet were light, and their steps were silent. They leapt into the air, lifting their blades over their heads, to slay their enemies in one fell swoop.

The Collector and Inle perked their ears to the soft sound of air drafting against Elucard and Wiccers' flapping white cloaks. Both Inle and the Collector raised their swords to deflect the incoming ambush.

Inle’s eyes widened in surprise. “Elucard?! You were a Ghost Fox?”

Elucard kicked off Inle’s blade and slid backwards on the polished stone. “Hello, Inle.” “Inle, handle the other one!” shouted the Collector, “I look forward to seeing if the stories of

Elucard's raw talent are true.”

“Another time, Elucard,” Inle spat begrudgingly.

“We must allow the Plague Reach to fracture the seal,” barked the Collector.

Inle could already feel the Plague Reach toxins seep into his nostrils, pumping adrenaline and energy into his muscles like a dose of drugs.

Wiccer gripped his hilt with both hands and sneered. “Let's finish this, clown!”