Chapter 519: Late Arrival (Patreon)

The ruined remains of the merchant house began to shake from the sheer amounts of mana pulsating from the four titans. Lunae glanced at Holo and Melantha and the three shared a subtle nod. The Queen of the Titans, Ananta loomed even over Lunae. Ananta shook her head in disappointment and whispered under her breath in an obscure voice.

Stryg stared at Holo and Melantha’s strange appearances. They stood twice as tall as him and their pale white hair glowed a soft silver in the darkness. Lilac irises with round pupils. Skin a shade less green than his, but just as blue. Holo’s ears ended in small upward points, like a drow’s. Melantha’s were round like a human’s. Neither had pointy ears drooping downwards like his. There were differences among the three, but their similarity was undeniable.

A warm, uncertain feeling bloomed in his chest. He had always felt different, alone among those he called a tribe. He had tried desperately to be one of them, to have what they all took for granted. He had found his own tribe, painstakingly, but he had found it. Different as he was, he was accepted among them. Yet as he stared at the two titans he didn’t feel different, he felt—

“Little one, run!” Lunae charged Ananta, shapeshifting into a massive wolf as she leaped into the air.

Ananta snatched her by the throat mid-leap. Lunae tried clawing at her chest, but Ananta held her at arm’s length and squeezed her throat. Lunae choked with a grimace. 

Holo Flickered behind them in a burst of orange sparks, her scythe poised to strike. Ananta moved in a blur. Her leg shot out and kicked Holo in the chest, sending her crashing into the wall.

Melantha dashed forward and swung her sword down on Ananta’s wrist. She released Lunae and pulled her hand back, evading the strike. Ananta drew Honorem and thrust the dagger into Melantha’s chest, but she caught the queen’s wrist mid-thrust.

Ananta tried to push the dagger in, but her hand refused to move. Their hands shook from the effort, but neither one budged.

“Who— are you?” asked Ananta, surprised.

“I was wondering the same thing.” Melantha headbutted her. Ananta stumbled back and Melantha blasted her away with a bolt of lightning to the face.

Stryg stared at Melantha wide-eyed as she turned to him. She looked him over curiously, “Hello, little brother.”

Ananta jumped out of the rubble, wisps of smoke rising from her face, though she seemed unharmed. She smiled maliciously, “I see, you are Death’s favored child, Melantha.”

She cocked her to the side, “And you are?”

“I am Ananta, your rightful queen, and the only one here trying to save Aleirune.”

“Ananta…? The goddess of love,” she recalled.

“Yes. I have no desire to kill you, rather the opposite.”

“You can see my heart then? Everything I love and I hold dear,” Melantha noted. “So you use it against people to manipulate them into making deals. Or am I wrong, Caligo?”

Ananta narrowed her iridescent eyes, “I see you aren’t like your siblings, but if you—”

“—You’re right, I’m not like them. I have no interest in hearing you out.”

“...Very well.” Ananta raised her outstretched hand, “Heed my call, Votum.”

From across the city, the giant orichalcum dagger flew into her palm. Honorem hummed excitedly at the return of its other half and the two daggers resonated with power in her hands.

Melantha drew her orichalcum shield and banged it against her sword. “Stryg, is it? I suggest you heed the wolf’s warning. Run.”

He scrambled over to Svartna and used the spear to help him to his feet. 

“Oi! Lunae! Holo! How long are you two gonna stay down?” Melantha called out.

Stryg glanced back one last time, then limped away as fast as his tired legs could.

~~~

The streets blurred by. Stryg leaned on Svartna like a walking staff. His legs were rock, every step creaked painfully, his muscles spasming without pause. His vision swam and he swayed from side to side. Every breath was labored and short. He wanted to fall over and close his eyes, if even only for a moment. But the hope of his mother kept him awake. 

The cloak of black feathers Ananta had thrown upon him, hugged his body closely and seemed to hide him in the shadows. He hid in the shadows as people ran past. Valley warriors, fleeing citizens, or goblins, Stryg didn’t know. He was too tired to tell. He used what little focus he had to put one foot in front of another. 

His mind wandered from dream to reality. He didn’t know how long had passed when he found himself in front of the ruined gates of the Mora Manor. He looked up slowly and spotted Blueberry curled around his mother. She lay unmoving, Blossom wrapped tightly around her. Vines had grown out from the flower cloak and embedded themselves into the grass.

“M-Mom!” Stryg shouted weakly. He ran to them, but his legs buckled underneath him and he fell. Whatever strength had kept his legs moving was gone. Stryg gritted his teeth and dragged himself forward.

Blueberry opened his eyes as he neared and whined. His tail uncurled and brushed Stryg close. He smiled gratefully at the frost wolf and crawled over to Aurelia.

She wasn’t moving. Warm forest green skin had become sickly pale. Stryg placed his ear over her mouth. It was faint, but he could feel her breath on his cheek.

“Mom,” he whispered. Stryg sniffed and cried softly over her.

“Oh, wow, you were actually right. Gods dammit,” cursed Kyriil.

Stryg looked up and spotted the elf standing next to a creature he had never seen before. He was taller than even a dire human. His grey skin was hairless and seemed almost slick. His nose was flat, save for a small bump. The eyes were pupiless, a milky blue. 

“Of course, I was right,” said Grim. “I heard my master’s command as if she were whispering right into my ear. She told us we’d find him here and so he is here.”

Behind the two strangers followed a retinue of valley warriors, weapons at hand. Blueberry growled at their appearance and tried to stand, but blood poured from his side where a broken wooden beam was protruding. He whined painfully and collapsed.

“Blueberry!” Stryg said anxiously.

“Looks like the beast still has some fight left in it,” Kyriil smirked. “Try not to resist, we’d rather not kill you.”

“Our commands were clear,” warned Grim.

“Yeah, yeah, capture, don’t kill. But Crow didn’t say anything about the giant wolf did he?” Kyrill raised his eyebrow.

“No,” Grim shrugged. “Do what you wish.”

“Gladly.” Kyriil channeled White. An orb of light spun into existence above him, 1 meter in diameter. The orb gave off sparks of light as if barely containing the power within.

“N-No!” Stryg leaned on Blueberry and tried his best to stand. “Touch him and I’ll rip out your throat,” he hissed.

“Oooh, scary. I like it,” Kyriil grinned. He snapped his fingers and a radiant beam shot out from the orb.

Stryg raised his arms and braced himself.

A vampiress leaped between them and met the beam with her sword. The bright spell dispersed in ribbons of white light at the edge of her sword.

Stryg looked up in surprise at the woman. Her soaked golden hair billowed in the rain and wind. Her tattered scarlet cloak was stained with blood and mud. But her crimson eyes were clear and steely with purpose.

“Gale?” he whispered.

She glanced at him and inclined her head, “Apologies for our late arrival, my lord.”

“It took us some time to find you,” said Willow. She appeared next to Stryg and gently helped him to his feet, “Can you stand, my lord?”

Stryg shook his head, “N-Not really.”

“Are you injured?” she asked.

“I— I don’t think so,” he admitted uncertainly.

Willow looked over his weary appearance. “We’ll still take you to our healers.”

“This one too,” said her brother, Stellan. He knelt next to Aurelia and carefully checked her pulse. “She is alive.”

“And who the fuck are they?!” Kyriil glared at Grim. 

The axlean frowned, “My master didn’t mention there would be anyone else…”

“So we can kill them, yeah?” Kyriil asked.

“...I suppose so,” Grim nodded.

Kyriil rolled his shoulders and smiled, “Three dead bloodsuckers coming right up.”

“Three?” said Gale calmly.

A dozen scarlet-cloaked vampires emerged from around the manor’s wreckage. Gale took a sword stance as did the others. 

“We are the Shield of Veres,” they said in unison. “Be it Monster or Man, here we stand, and we shall not falter.”