Mind leapt in, the light in his palm going blinding as he swung his fist, a shard of purple extending from his knuckles. But Draeken extended his hand towards the pocket Gate and it flew into his hand. He pressed the rune and silver light poured into shape beneath Draeken. He fell, disappearing from sight before Mind could stop him. Mind lunged for the Gate but it closed, and he landed in the dirt.
“No!” he shouted.
He knew where Draeken had gone, to Xshaltheria. If he could destroy Fire and repair the Gate, he would return even stronger than before, and the alliance would have lost its one chance at victory.
Elenyr wearily stepped to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s up to the others now.”
More fiends disappeared, and fear entered the hearts of the remainder. Shrieking and screaming, they scattered, sprinting in all directions, the battle forgotten. They swept away from the battlefield, fleeing the mysterious foe that caused their neighbors to turn to smoke and dissipate, and the dragons and firebirds in the sky.
Mind held the orb in his hand, hoping it had been enough, hoping Draeken was injured enough that Fire could survive. Hoping he and Lachonus could triumph. Shadow, Light, and Water approached and nodded.
“We’ve done our part,” Water said.
“Let us hope it was enough,” Mind said.
Chapter 43: The Final Trap
Fire fought with every ounce of power he possessed, blasting the fiends left and right, scorching them to death, and even pinning them to the wall in the hopes they would bar the opening. But still the fiends came. They pulled the bodies of the dead back and charged the steps leading to the platform where Lachonus fought, their claws, teeth, and obsidian swords reaching for Fire’s body.
“Lachonus!” Fire shouted. “You’re running out of time!”
Lachonus spun and twisted, attempting to swing his blade through the mirage, to find a weakness in the magic. He searched for any irregularity in the floor but the surface of the platform was perfectly round. Lachonus fought with unmatched ferocity, a hundred small cuts marking his flesh—and that of his opponent. For every drop of blood spilt, he suffered the same fate.
For every cut on the mirage, the Dark Gate endured a wound, it’s very shape linked to the mirror soldier. Some of the fiends evaporated, their flesh turning to smoke and drifting away. Each time it helped to save Fire from being driven back, but Fire knew he could not last forever. The only way to destroy the Gate was to kill the mirror—and die.
“I can’t find an opening!” Lachonus shouted, his tone desperate.
“Keep trying!” Fire shouted.
Fire conjured a giant leg and stomped his foot, kicking two krakas from the ledge. One managed to hurl his obsidian sword, the blade passing over Fire’s shoulder, slicing deep across his arm. He grimaced and pulled the magma from the volcano, lifting it into a golem of magma that charged the corridor, melting and crushing the packed fiends.
Abruptly a silver light burst into shape at the edge of the platform, and Fire spared a look. He hoped to see Elenyr, or perhaps one of his brothers. Instead it was Draeken himself that stumbled into sight.
Draeken came to a halt and took the room at a glance. Lachonus standing close to the mirror, while Fire fought at the top of the stairs. Fire’s eyes widened when he spotted the dark hole in Draeken’s chest, and the pain on his features.
“What did they do to you?” Fire asked.
Draeken stared at Lachonus, and then surprisingly began to laugh. He kept his distance from Lachonus, but began to circle the outer perimeter of the platform to reach the Dark Gate. He motioned to the soldier.
“Elenyr is almost as clever as the fragment of Mind,” he said. “But in this, you have lost—without even realizing your defeat.”
“What are you talking about?” Lachonus asked.
Lachonus held his sword on the mirror’s heart, and the other blade rested on his own chest. The fact that Draeken kept his distance made it clear that Lachonus was a threat, but his haughty expression filled Fire with fear.
“Your generals must be dead,” Fire called to Draeken. “How many of your fiends have begun to disappear?”
Draeken’s features twisted with hatred but he remained fixed on Lachonus. “The prophecy spoke of one born to human, elf, and dwarf, and your mother said you were from the right lineage.”
“The prophecy was real,” Lachonus said. “You cannot deny that.”
“It was true,” Draeken said. “But the lie came from your mother. She wanted the pride of your victory.”
“You lie,” Lachonus growled.
“You know your mother.” Draeken stabbed a finger to him. “You know her ambition. It was your cousin that was born to the right lineage, but it was your name I gave to Elenyr.”
Fire’s eyes widened in shock, and he punched the ground, sending fire billowing into the corridor. He sucked in the heat and sent a blast at Draeken, but he swatted it aside with ease. Fire grimaced as he was forced to turn back to the next wave of fiends.
“Don’t listen to him!” he called to Lachonus. “Elenyr believed in you.”
Draeken snarled at Fire’s words. “I made her think you were the one person that could defeat me,” Draeken said. “But you are just a warrior destined for obscurity.”
Draeken crept closer to the Dark Gate, his hand rising. Fire guessed he was going to attempt severing the link between the mirror and the Dark Gate, allowing him to slay Lachonus and Fire at his leisure.
Lachonus stared at Draeken and then looked over his shoulder to Fire. “Tell my mother I’m sorry,” he said.
Lachonus closed his eyes . . . and drove his sword into the mirror’s chest.
“NO!” Draeken roared.
He leapt to the Dark Gate, but the damage had been done. The silver liquid sparked and shimmered, and the arch began to crumble. The fiends in the corridor evaporated, the sounds of snarling fiends fading into silence.
Draeken leapt to the Dark Gate and raised his hands, purple light flowing from his fingers as he sought to keep it from collapsing. Fire sprinted down the stairs and skidded to a stop at the body of Lachonus. He grabbed his body and retreated.
