Nox – 18th Harvestwatch
Wolvesbane, Trifectorate Empire
"The blood of the covenant runs thicker than the water of the womb."
- Parable from the Crimson Consortium
After the mist seemed to flow into her very body, twisting and contorting around her, Velyan collapsed. Qapla was the first to move. He sprinted up the stairs, reaching her side before any of us could react.
The wolf retreated, drawing his upper body back into the clouds until he vanished. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the storm broke. No more lightning, no more rain, no more wind. The clouds dispersed swiftly, leaving behind only a silent, verdant forest.
The only sign of the wolf's arrival was the carnage piled up at the base of the wall. Bodies broken and scattered among the roots, their remains mingling with the mud. They were packed together so tight, it almost seemed purposeful. Helena stood still, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
Qapla trembled as he watched Adrastos arrive at Velyan's side. Golden light gathered in the wolf's hands, rivers of yellow light began to trail under Velyan's skin as Adrastos placed his palms upon her. hands and flowed into her.
Zephyr rose and walked to Helena at the edge.
"The Primarch is gone," he said. "You're safe now. But I will take my leave. I'm searching for peace." He let out a deep, weary sigh. "If such a thing even exists. If you need me, I'll be where we first met."
With a gust of wind, Zephyr vanished.
Just like that, man of wind was gone, leaving the rest of us to deal with the carnage. What was with that man? I was glad I had not taken his offer. Vantara had already allowed me to see clearly through the sewers, heal myself and others, and even strengthen my strikes.
The others distrusted her, one of their few logical conclusions. Vantara had gifted me with many gifts and yet no price had yet to arisen. It was only a matter time.
In Hell, no act came without consequence, every gift wrapped in barbs that would snare your hands with each ribbon unmasked. And yet, I found myself leaning into the well of power, her deal one of the first I was able to willingly choose.
Annalise's sat, her eyes cresting downwards to the piles below, her gaze traveling to the gates. Her clothes and violin were soaked, sticking to her pale green skin. I supposed she was right for once, the city wouldn't go under siege until Veylan failed to return with whatever stone she was speaking about, the refugees could have been saved.
Perhaps it would serve to her a lesson about the reality of the world: the strong make the decisions, and the weak must suffer for it. Or she'd make another god-forsaken song about it. But at least she had stood up against the decision despite facing the supposed Dragonbreaker, I had to give her that.
I walked over to her and held out a hand. She looked at me with vacant eyes, before reaching out and I hauled her up. I nodded briefly to her as she looked at the carnage outside the wall then walked over to Qapla who was pacing back and forth,
"What happened to her?" I said gesturing at Velyan's unconscious form.
"I don't know." Qapla's voice was hoarse. He looked at me with shaking eyes. "I don't know."
"Calm yourself first." I said, "Panic isn't going to help you."
"Pardon." Adrastos interceded, wiping his bloody furry hands with a towel pulled from hells know where. "But she's just fine. There is nothing wrong with her."
"Nothing wrong?" Qapla snapped, pointing at Velyan, her shirt and face smeared with black viscous blood. "Look at her!"
"She is healthy." Adrastos protested. "I tried healing her, but the magic wouldn't hold. It did nothing. Her pulse is strong, her breath is steady."
"So what happened?"
"Only Yaelin knows." Adrastos replied, "I wish I did. She seems to be simply exhausted. She won't be able to walk down on her own, but she should wake up by morning."
Qapla ran a hand over his braided hair. "I'll carry her."
"With that leg, you won't make it halfway." I replied, his leg was trembling even if he refused to acknowledge it.
I stared at the prone form of Velyan, my mind flashing back to Dalia's sleeping figure. "I can help you carry her down.
"I'll be fine." Qapla grumbled. "I've walked off worse."
Adrastos knelt in front of him without warning. Qapla dropped into a crouch as well, yanked a handaxe free, and scanned the ridge. "What is it. Where is the threat."
Both Adrastos and I stared at him. Adrastos beat me to it. "I am a healer. I was going to heal your leg? If you wish to avoid a scar, I should work quickly."
"You're going to… why didn't you say so sooner." Qapla coughed into his hand and stuck his leg out at an awkward angle.
Adrastos held out a hand over the acid burn and muttered in a strange growling tongue. Bright, soothing light emerged from his palm and poured over the injury.
The light seemed to melt the damage away. Qapla's green-gray skin smoothed and knit. Qapla stood there, mouth agape. "Why did that not hurt? Healing hurts."
"Potions accelerate the body's natural healing process with plants. Other gods can use their divinity to do a similar process." Adrastos explained, dusting himself off as he stood. "But only Yaelin provides a painless healing. She is life itself. The mother and ruler of heaven. She provides for and protects her faithful."
Interesting. In hell, most devils hated Yaelin. From what I knew, she rallied the heavens and led the banishment of the fallen, gods and angels alike.
Adrastos turned to me, "You also need healing."
"No."
"You will pass out on the climb down."
"I am fine."
"You are half woman and half acid." Adrastos said dryly. "It will only get worse with time. Stay still."
As he raised his hand, I flinched away. I did not know how divine power and my hellborn nature would intertwine, but I did know how the sailors reacted when they deduced me and my sister's origin. A small flash a panic rose in my chest at the thought of starting again, without these people. Not that I couldn't do without them, but it would be inconvenient.
Warm light fell over my ribs. It felt like a bath. I once had the chance to visit a spa run by off duty succubi. This felt just as good. I drew a steadying breath. The pain bled away and my side loosened. It no longer hurt to breathe or even move.
I stared at him, pulse slowing, disbelief curdling into envy as the last ache in my ribs dissolved. The strength in that magic was unreal. It could've prevented so many deaths in hell. I could have saved my friends. Across from us Qapla dropped into a series of quick successive squats, "I feel better than I have in years."
He was right. Old knots and half set fractures were gone. Only the sweet relief of the healing remained.
"Yaelin provides." Adrastos said, lowering his head. A pale ray broke the clouds and lit his shoulders.
What in the hells.
Forget the healing. I should push him off the wall. These gods and their timing. His tall frame moved with such calm, as if he knew what would happen before we did.
Helena approached, her eyes pausing on Velyan. "You are braver than most. Go home. Rest. Come to the guild in the morning and we will talk."
She then turned and walked down the stairs.
Qapla sighed. He lifted Velyan, cradling her gently in his arms. "Let's go back home. It's been a long day."
The climb up had been brutal, and my every wound had screamed. Now, light on our feet and breathing easier, we moved through a city that felt alive again. The streets were still empty, but the air no longer pressed on our backs. That watching presence was gone.
The light breeze felt like music to my ears, and I could not help but cast a glance back at Annalise. She wandered at the back of the group, no tune on her lips. The gods were feeling merciful today.
We reached the house before long. Something had changed. Light glowed in the windows, and the scent of cooked food drifted through the door.
Adrastos walked up and grabbed the handle.
"Wait." Qapla hissed.
Adrastos stopped and looked back. "It is probably you sister, is it not?"
"After today you, do you want to risk that." I said in a low tone and got close. "Back up and get a spell ready."
I grabbed the handle and turned slowly. It was unlocked. I watched Qapla lock the door earlier. My hand fell to my sword. Qapla passed Velyan to Adrastos, who lifted her with ease, then moved behind me with his longsword ready.
We stepped inside. Dry air and warmth. The room smelled like a feast. The table had been altered from the slab we ate on this morning to a polished oak carved with curling patterns along the legs.
Platters covered the surface. Meat, vegetables, bottles, and crystal cups. The feast glimmered under candlelight, untouched, almost waiting. And at the far side sat a figure as still as a stone.
A tall, handsome, hellborn. His skin was charcoal. His eyes were a sharp piercing yellow. Long twisted horns rose from his brow and framed his head like a crown.
He wore a noble suit emblazoned with Lucifer's crest. I knew this man. He was known by many names: The executioner, the sword of dancing flames, the captain of the royal guard, general of the seven armies, and the right hand of the devil himself.
But I knew him by a different name.
Darius.
My brother.