Arcemis's Arc

Chapter 12 of 16

The trap never sprang. Rhademus did not walk into the wounded temple. At dawn a butterfly from Cade landed on Arcemis's blade with a warning: the king had built his strength in his own kingdom, and if the guardians waited, he would come with an army too vast to hold. So Arcemis made a new choice. He would not defend a door. He would march on Nethera and end the war at its heart. They crossed the black plain together. Ahead rose the Obsidian Citadel, its towers crowned by green flame, its walls carved with skulls. Rhademus's army poured from the gates. Arcemis raised his glowing sword. "Break their line," he said. "We reach the king." The guardians moved as one. Arcemis cut a path through the front rank, gold light trailing each swing. Freyo loosed arrows over his shoulder, each one splitting a dark rider from the saddle. Marina swept her shell staff and a wall of water crushed the hounds charging their flank. Lucien and Tybore hit the enemy like two boulders, knuckles and claws throwing bodies aside. Lira flung her flasks; frost bloomed and froze whole squads mid-step. Circe held her spellbook wide, her shield turning every dark bolt away from her friends. At the citadel steps King Rhademus waited. Tall and pale, his red eyes calm, his black robes still. He did not shout. He never needed to. "You came to me," he said, voice deep and slow. "How generous. Now I take your light, and the shadow in the girl wakes for me." He raised one hand. Dark threads whipped out and seized the guardians, dragging them to their knees. Arcemis felt the threads bite his arms. He looked up. Above the battlefield the sky tore open. Gaia appeared, blonde hair blazing, golden eyes fixed on a horned shape rising from the citadel's green fire. Vaphos. The demon and the goddess clashed, light against smoke, their battle shaking the black towers. Rhademus glanced up, and for one breath his calm slipped. That breath was enough. Arcemis poured his light into the threads. They burned away like paper. He surged forward as the king turned back. "For Amira," Arcemis said, and drove his blade into Rhademus's chest. Gold light flooded the wound. The king staggered, red eyes wide with the fear he had spent centuries fleeing. But Rhademus did not fall to dust. He tore free, black blood steaming, and fled up his own steps into the citadel. Above, Gaia forced Vaphos back through the green flame and the sky sealed shut. The army broke and scattered. The guardians stood on the citadel steps, alive, bleeding, and inside the black walls. Arcemis lowered his sword. The war had reached Nethera. The king still breathed, wounded and cornered in his own throne. One more door remained, and behind it, the end.