Aric’s eyes widened in understanding, and he nodded, his movements syncing with Malekith’s as they worked in tandem. With a word of power, Aric summoned a wall of flames, while Malekith wove his shadows through them, the two elements merging and blending at their command. The resulting vortex of golden fire and inky darkness created a temporary shield against the onslaught of attacks that were raining down on them from all sides.
“Keep it moving.” Malekith poured more of his magic into the shield. “Don’t let them get a lock on it.”
Aric’s magic was threatening to unravel as he strained to hold the shield together. He forced himself to focus, to draw on the reserves of magic that he knew were still untapped. The shield swirled and shifted in response to his will, the flames and shadows dancing in a hypnotic pattern that defied logic.
The demons and spectators pressed in around them, their attacks relentless, but the shield held, their blended torrent of magic consuming everything that came too close. Malekith guided Aric’s movements with a steady hand on his back, his presence a grounding force in the chaos. They moved as one, anticipating each other’s needs and responding to the ebb and flow of the battle around them.
But even with Malekith’s guidance, Aric knew they couldn’t hold out forever. The demons vastly outnumbered them, and Sovereign Zaxos’s power loomed over the arena like a storm cloud. They needed a way out, an opening that would allow them to escape the trap that had been set for them.
Aric’s muscles burned with exertion as he maintained the swirling shield of fire and shadow. His eyes darted to Malekith, whose face was a mask of intense concentration. Suddenly, Malekith’s gaze sharpened, focusing on a point in the distance.
“When I give the signal, run for that corner,” Malekith said, his voice low and urgent. He jerked his chin toward the eastern edge of the arena. “Don’t hesitate, don’t look back. Understand?”
Aric’s heart leapt into his throat. He nodded, unable to form words as the implications of Malekith’s plan crashed over him. This was it – their one chance at escape.
Malekith took a deep breath, his chest expanding as he gathered his power. The air around him seemed to thicken, darkness coalescing into writhing tendrils that danced at his fingertips. Aric felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his skin prickling with the raw energy Malekith was channeling.
With a guttural cry that sent shivers down Aric’s spine, Malekith released the spell. A wave of impenetrable darkness swept across the arena, extinguishing every light and plunging the world into an inky void. Aric’s breath caught in his throat as the blackness engulfed him, cutting off all sight and sound.
“Now!” Malekith’s shout pierced through the darkness, jolting Aric into action. For a heartbeat, he hesitated, torn between the promise of escape and the thought of leaving Malekith behind. But before he could voice his doubts, Malekith’s hand found him in the darkness, shoving him roughly towards their planned exit.
“Go!” Malekith roared, his voice already turning away, preparing to face the oncoming horde.
Aric’s heart clenched, but he forced his feet to move. He sprinted towards the eastern corner of the arena, the sounds of Malekith’s fierce battle echoing behind him. The clash of magic and Malekith’s defiant cries spurred him on, each step carrying him further from the man who had become far more than just his captor.
As he neared the weak point in the barrier, Aric’s newly acquired demon magic thrummed beneath his skin. He could sense the structure of the magical field, its intricate weave of power now visible to his enhanced perception. Without breaking stride, he gathered his magic, weaving together strands of his golden fire with the shadow techniques Malekith had taught him.
The barrier loomed before him, an invisible wall of pure energy. Aric didn’t slow down. Instead, he thrust his hands forward, channeling every ounce of power he could muster. Golden flames erupted from his fingertips, intertwining with tendrils of inky darkness. The conflicting energies writhed and twisted together, forming a lance of raw magical force that struck the barrier head-on.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like shattering glass, a hole tore open in the magical field. Aric felt the backlash of power wash over him, nearly knocking him off his feet. But he pushed through, his determination fueled by the desperate need to escape and the ache of leaving Malekith behind.
As he stumbled through the opening, the sounds of battle faded behind him, replaced by the pounding of his own heart and the ragged gasps of his breath. Aric didn’t look back. He couldn’t. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d have the strength to keep running.
Aric paused at the threshold, his heart a lead weight in his chest. The narrow streets of Drindal stretched out before him, a hellscape of devastation and death. The demon army had laid waste to the town, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. Buildings smoldered, their walls blackened and charred. The stench of smoke and blood hung heavy in the air, threatening to choke him.
But there was no time to dwell on the devastation. Already, he could hear the shouts of the demon soldiers as they fanned out in search of the human survivors. Aric’s instincts screamed at him to run, to find cover and stay out of sight. But he forced himself to move, to push down the wave of grief and guilt that threatened to overwhelm him.
With a final glance back at the arena, he spotted a figure moving in the darkness, a lone shadow against the roiling storm of magic and steel. Malekith. He was still fighting, still holding off the demon horde with a ferocity that was both beautiful and terrible to behold.
Their eyes met across the distance, and in that fleeting moment, a world of unspoken emotions passed between them. Gratitude, and grief, and a fierce, unrelenting hope. Malekith’s lips moved, forming a silent word, and Aric knew what it was. Go.
The barrier was closing, the magical threads knitting themselves back together. With a sob caught in his throat, Aric turned away, and leapt through the opening.
He tumbled out into the streets of Drindal, the sounds of battle fading into the night.
Twenty
Pain lanced through Aric’s head as he stumbled to his feet and forced himself to run. The battle between Malekith and the demon guards was still raging, but Aric couldn’t risk looking back. Tears welled in his eyes, his vision blurring as he sprinted through the darkened corridors of the ward station. He had to focus. He had to keep moving.
A wave of fire roared past his face, and Aric cried out as the flames licked at his skin. He darted down a side passage, his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn’t keep this up for long. His magic was drained, his body battered and bruised from the guards’ blows.
But he couldn’t give up. Not now. He was so close to freedom he could taste it, a bittersweet tang on the back of his tongue.
A dim light shone in the distance, and Aric’s heart leaped. The secret exit. The one Malekith had shown him, with a cruel smile and a gentle touch to his shoulder. I’m trusting you, Malekith had said, his eyes burning with an intensity that seared itself into Aric’s soul. Don’t make my sacrifice be for nothing.
A fresh wave of tears stung Aric’s eyes, but he blinked them away. He wouldn’t dishonor Malekith’s sacrifice. He would make whatever terrible fate awaited them both mean something. Even if it was only Aric’s own life that was saved, he would make it count.
He reached the hidden door and fumbled with the latch, his hands shaking. The sounds of the battle grew louder, the stench of blood and smoke thick in the air. With a loud clatter, the door swung open, and Aric tumbled out into the night.
He forced himself to stand straight, and staggered forward, his muscles aching, his head throbbing. The city streets loomed before him, dark and ominous walls of stone. But it was his only chance.
He had to move, one step in front of the other. He couldn’t give up, not after everything that had brought him to this point. The long years of research and study, the secrets he had uncovered, the truths of his world and Malekith’s, and the bond that had formed between him and the demon prince, threading its way into his very soul.
Malekith had called it a curse, but as Aric stumbled deeper into the streets of Drindal, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. It was the only thing that had kept him going in the darkest moments of his captivity, the thought of Malekith, of the connection that bound them together.
And now, as he felt that bond stretching and straining, threatening to snap, he clung to it with all his might. He reached for it, a thread of darkness and heat and the promise of a better world. A world where demons and humans didn’t have to be enemies, where the war that had raged for centuries could finally, blessedly, come to an end.
A world that was waiting for him, if only he had the strength to reach it.
Aric ran.
He ran until his lungs burned with the cold night air, and his muscles ached with every step. He ran until the streets blurred with darkness, and the only sound was the desperate thud of his heart in his ears.
He didn’t dare look back. He didn’t want to see the shadows moving between the buildings, the flicker of flames as the demon guards gave chase. He had to believe that Malekith was holding his own, that the guards were too preoccupied with Malekith and the ensuing chaos to pay Aric any mind.
He had to make it to freedom. He couldn’t let Malekith’s sacrifice be in vain.
He wept for all that he had lost, and all that he had failed to do. He wept for Malekith who had given everything for him, and the future he yearned for that now lay in tatters at his feet.
