I'd lost track of time. I had no idea how long we'd spent here, fighting so many forces determined to end us.
But Brendel was within my reach. No matter what, I had to finish her this time, once and for all. I had no idea whether I'd manage to do it with Thieron, but it was worth a shot. I just needed to catch her off guard. I needed to deliver another, heavier blow, enough to break whatever spell she had on my ability to teleport. Then, I could take the element of surprise.
Armed with such thoughts, I lunged at her again. I came running in from her left, then made a sudden dash to the right. She swelled, the fire burning and licking at the air, which, in turn, rippled from the heat. Brendel was ready to take me on. I cast a large flame at her, then another, followed by a third, enough to temporarily block her field of vision with nothing but fire.
The ground shook beneath me, but I couldn't stop or falter. I was so close!
Taking advantage of the fire curtain I'd managed to pull, I bolted to her left again. I brought Thieron out from the side in full swing. As soon as I got past the fire, I came to a screeching halt. She was gone!
Something swished and crackled to my left. Brendel!
She'd come around the fire I'd set. My element of surprise was gone, but I kept Thieron in front of me, knowing she wouldn't deliberately plunge herself into it.
Brendel darted to my left, mimicking my initial strategy. I ducked when she cast her fire at me. The ground trembled even more, to the point where I had trouble keeping my balance. Fear crept into my throat.
I caught glimpses of the others fighting. Varga was down. Eva, too. Nethissis was unconscious. Suddenly, the energy vibe I'd felt earlier began to dwindle, my resolve deflating a little too fast. Several Earth Hermessi had their hands sunk into the ground—I'd found the earthquake's source. Someone had to stop them. But I had Brendel to deal with.
"You're not going to win this!" I snapped.
Fire curled around my ankle and knocked me off my feet. My back hit the ground hard. The air got forced out of my lungs. Brendel came up, towering above me. Her fiery arms reached out like laser beams. She caught my left wrist, scorching my skin. I cried out from the pain, and, in a moment of desperation, threw Thieron in a bid to stop her from burning through my right wrist, as well.
The scythe flew through her side, and white light flashed inside her for a long moment. The earth shook violently, cracks opening up and splicing through the mountain peak. I'd left a hole through Brendel's side, and her fire figure turned pale blue for a moment, flickering with unease and confusion.
I had a chance to take her out for good, but Thieron was on the ground, about twenty yards away from me. I'd missed the crucial shot, and now, Brendel's white eyes were fixed on me. The stone cracked under me, and I sank into the ground.
Eira's scream tore through the stormy night sky. Someone cursed.
And I was left wondering how I'd pull this off, as Brendel made her way toward me. It wasn't death I feared, for I could not be killed. It was failure, inching closer against the ticking clock.
Kelara
For several hours, we'd been fighting and reaping our way through an ever-growing crowd of modified souls—I'd settled on that term because it was the only one I'd deemed accurate enough for these ghosts. "Specter" didn't even begin to cover it.
The Spirit Bender had tweaked them with bits of Reaper mojo, most likely threads of clothing and other fragments embedded into the spirits. With this modification, the ghosts we'd been dealing with could hurt us, they could fight back, and they could make everything worse.
My arms hurt from all the swinging I'd done, cutting down every ghost that came at me. Contrary to popular opinion, Reapers could still experience exhaustion, albeit rarely—this was one such instance, where the volume of hostile souls was simply unprecedented. My scythe buzzed, tickling my skin and glowing in angry shades of red. I had a feeling even its blade recognized the abnormality of this situation as it sliced through the specters. Perhaps this was its way of showing anger. I'd never thought of my weapon as a mere object, anyway.
Dream and Nightmare