◆◇◆
"Chieftainess! Thank goodness you are okay!" someone shouted, relief cracking through their voice.
"My mother, where is she?" Sylera asked.
"The elder was badly hurt, but the herbalist said she is going to be fine ."
"Herbalist,over here!"
The herbalist hurried forward, brow creased. He probed Selera's forehead with practiced fingers and muttered something under his breath.
"Her temperature is very high. I've used my Art to calm the fever. More importantly, Chieftainess, you don't look well. Let me give you something."
"No, don't worry attend to the people first," Sylera replied, though her voice trembled.
"But you don't look good," the herbalist protested.
"Don't worry about me. It's just the backlash from passing the art to Lysera. I just need to rest."
Sylera's gaze flitted to the doorway. Gray was already there, tension coiled in his shoulders, his hands hold tight the double swords his father gave him..
"Gray… where are you going? Don't tell me…"
"It's too dangerous. You shouldn't go!" someone called.
"Mother, you shouldn't worry about me. Worry about yourself. I promised Father I would protect this village no matter what… and now that the village is under attack, I can't stay still."
"But" Sylera began.
"Let him be," the herbalist interrupted, looking into his eyes . "Those are not the eyes that will obey. Besides, he possesses a rare self-healing ability, so he'll be fine."
Sylera sighed. "Just be careful, Gray."
She was worried, her Sight had been passed down to Lysera; she could no longer see the future of this situation.
*I just have to have faith..Devon I just hope you are okay,* she thought.
◆◇◆
A short distance from the burning outskirts, devastation painted the night. Smoke curled like black fingers through the trees.
Devon stood amid the chaos, sword in hand. He had been a pillar of calm only minutes before; now fury and disbelief stormed his face.
He saw a figure standing on a rise, watching with the patient cruelty of someone who had waited a long time for this moment.
The silhouette moved, and the voice that came down carried a poison Devon knew all too well.
"What have you done to yourself, Revan?" Devion called out, voice taut with a mixture of confusion and contempt
Shocked, brother? Shouldn't you be happy to see your brother with this much power?
"With this power, I can finally repay you for what you did to my left eye. I can finally show that I am superior to you. What do you think, brother?
Isn't it beautiful?" Revan asked, his grin was a thing of teeth and shadow
Devon's fingers tightened around his hilt. He remembered a boy with reckless laughter, his brother, before bitterness and ambition had hollowed him out.
His throat went dry. Everything in him thought to end this; to cut that being in front of him down
"It seems you've sold yourself to become a demon incarnate. Prepare yourself, This time, I'm really going to kill you."
Kill me? Don't make me laugh...
Revan now bore the status of a demon. Black wings unfurled from his back; twin horns pushed through his brow; his nails sharpened into blades ready to tear apart anything in his way.
The sword he held was covered in flames
"Isn't it beautiful, Devon? Now even you can't comprehend my strength…"
At that moment, Devon's eyes widened, terrified of the being before him. It wasn't beautiful nor simply scary but the aura Revan emitted was terrifying.
Devon's soldiers coughed up blood and fell to their knees.
Only Devon stood, looking stunned.
"We have to assist Lord Devon, no matter what!
Lord Devon can't fight that thing alone everyone, get up!" the commander barked.
But the soldiers on their knees could not move; their limbs refused them. It was understandable, they lacked the strength to stand against a demon incarnate radiating overwhelming presence.
"Why… why?" one whispered. "We're all going to die, every one of us, including Lord Devon. There is no escaping this…"
None of them was in their right mind. Only the commander had the courage to fight, but at that moment something streaked past his head—
"Ahhh!"
"It burns! It burns—my head!"
I thought I told you to stay still and wait for your death. On second thought… Why don't you three die?
"Ahhh!"
"It's hot—so hot!" their bodies were engulfed in flames.
"Lord Devon, please save us! Please!" someone cried as their body turned to ash.
Shall we continue? Now how should I kill you now? Should I make it slow, or spectacular?
"Why did you kill them? Do you enjoy killing that much? Not only did you kill some of my villagers, but also my soldiers" Devon shouted.
Shush! Their swords clashed mid-sentence.
Some? That makes me laugh, Devon. Everyone in this village is going to die tonight ,that is his will.
Do you think I don't know about the underground shelter? Right now one of my men is on his way there to complete the mission.
"You… how did you" Devon sputtered.
Surprised? Before now, a spy sent me weekly reports. He told me about the little village the Veyrun family created.
To my surprise, the brother I wanted to kill so badly is now the village chief and the husband to the veyrun daughter.
Tonight, everyone dies. And more importantly, you're going to watch your family die. That will make me satisfied with your death.
Devon staggered. Memories and faces flashed through his mind: The time he spent with his family, Elder Yasera's crooked smile, the bakery boy who once raced his children, the smith whose hands were calloused from honest work.
"Why… why are you doing this?" Devon whispered.
Revan's expression softened for a heartbeat, almost pity. "Honestly speaking, I don't care about the villagers dying. I only care about your so-called family death . I want to see you suffer!"
Devon's anguish hardened into fierce resolve. He would not let them die in vain.
He called upon the *Way of the Wind* an art he had honed long ago. The air around him thickened, bending to his will.
Wind carved around his palms, knitting into a blade of pure motion.
",The wind Spirit…I see, now this is getting fun, I was getting tired of fighting you on the ground," Revan taunted, amusement in his voice.
Devon's lips thinned. He summoned the *Spirit of Gale*, feeling the old technique hum beneath his skin.
Wind gathered around his fingers, sharpening into an edge. A sword of air formed and sliced through the space toward Revan's left arm.
Yes! This is it! Your eyes screaming vengeance, that intent to kill makes it fun for me!
Another attack of wind blades followed
Revan dodged, but the wind blade bit into him. He countered with a wave of fire; Devon met it with a wind shield, scattering embers.
The clash cracked like thunder.
BOOM!
The shockwave blasted between them shards of wood and splinters flying through the smoke.
◆◇◆
Gray on his way saw the bodies of some of the village who didn't make it to the underground shelter
Heard the sound….
And his mind was fixed on one thing:
*Father…I hope you are okay,* he thought,
voice barely a whisper in the roar of battle.