“So, you finally found the last key,” came a lazy voice from the entrance to the underground cavern system.
Rathe turned around, slipping the keystone into his pack. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” he said to the figure leaning against to wall, “Pryde.” Pryde glanced at the statue where Rathe had taken the last keystone. “Never thought that the keystone would be on a statue of a Wraith,” he said. “I must admit, you sure know your way around this land.” He stood up straight and unhooked the sword on his back. “Now, give me the keystones and the book.”
“And why would I do that Damn Sin?” Rathe replied, checking the needle-thin stakes in his sleeves.
“Because if you don’t I’ll kill you.” Pryde pointed the blade at his brother.
“What makes you think you can?”
“Because out of all of us, I was always the best at everything. None of our other siblings could stay alive when they faced me, nor Father and Mother, not even that woman who was keeping you from your purpose, and you won’t either.”
At the mention of Kiru Rathe snarled in pure and utter rage, pushed further by what Pryde had just revealed. “So it was you… You took out Envie and Slauth? Lucette?” He had been wondering who had killed his siblings. “You killed Father and Mother?” Slauth, his other brother, had been drained completely of blood and beheaded, left in his family’s old house. He found his sister soon after. Envie was staked to a tree a few miles from there. Their parents, were at the bottom of the lake they owned. Lucette, an elder sister he'd only met a handful of times, he learned later, had been gutted on the road and left to die, presumably by some bandits. Pryde was the only member of the Syn family that Rathe couldn’t find.
“What the hell is wrong with you?! They were your family!”
“They were in the way!” Pryde replied. “They were weak and a disgrace! I refuse to be associated with crap like them! You also forgot about that ‘Kiru’ girl you’re so fond of. Or, is she calling herself ‘Kara’ these days. Now, are you going to give me the keystones and that book, or am I going to have to eradicate another worthless-.”
Pryde was cut off as Rathe dashed forward, slamming his fist into his brother’s face. Pryde was knocked backwards out of the statue’s cave and into the outer cavern. He hit the floor hard; his sword flew out of his hand, and landed several feet from him. He heard Rathe rush forward and jumped back, landing on his feet. He picked up the chain attached to his sword and pulled hard, sending the blade flying into his hand, just in time to parry Rathe’s sword.
“Bastaaaaard!” Rathe shouted, kicking his brother in the stomach, knocking him into a wall. He swung his arm and shot dozens of his needle stakes at Pryde.
“Boss! Calm down!” his hand said.
“Shut up!” he replied, shooting more stakes at Pryde.
Pryde swung his arm out and shot his own needle stakes at Rathe’s, the weapons colliding in midair so that every single stake hit the ground, useless. He grabbed his sword’s chain and pushed off the wall, swinging the chain around before throwing it at Rathe. The chain wrapped around Rathe’s body, the scythe-head at the end hooked the restraint together. He ran past Rathe, pulling hard on the chain, swinging Rathe around and into one of the walls. He swung Rathe around again, sending him crashing into a stone pillar formed from a stalactite and stalagmite. The pillar crumbled, chunks of stone falling down onto Rathe’s body. “Get up! I’m not done with you yet weakling!” Pryde shouted.
“Yeah?” came a muffled voice from the rubble. “Well I’m not done with you either!” Rathe shoved the chunks away, sending several flying at Pryde. He spat out three of the cork stoppers on his vials of Wraith blood, pouring the contents down his throat.
Both eyes turned black, darker than the blackest of black holes, while his hair turned pure white, his fangs and nails lengthened and sharpened into points. His body trembled as his change completed. He fixed his gaze on Pryde and hissed. “You’ve gone too far Damn Sin! I’m going to rip your pride right out of you!” He pushed off the remaining rubble with his feet, flying straight at his brother, vanishing from sight the instant he left the ground. Pryde brought his sword around and moved it behind his neck, blocking Rathe’s sudden kick. Rathe vanished again and Pryde ducked, avoiding another kick where his head had been. When he vanished again, Pryde swung his arm out, grabbing Rathe’s ankle when he next attacked. “Please, your speed may have increased,” Pryde said, turning around, swinging Rathe as he went, “but your attacks are as predictable as ever!” He let go of Rathe, letting his brother slam into wall.
Rathe grunted as he hit the wall, but almost as soon as the impact came, he pushed off back at Pryde, vanishing from sight again. Pryde looked around, trying to get a hint of where Rathe went when he felt a chain wrap around his neck. Rathe had stabbed his sword into the stone ceiling, holding onto the ceiling with one hand while the other held the chain. “Predict this!” he snarled, yanking the chain up. Pryde flew up, pulling at the chain to no avail. Rathe pulled his sword out of the ceiling and pushed off at the ground, landing neatly on his feet as he grabbed the chain and swung it down. Pryde had just hit the ceiling when the chain tugged at him. He fell down, slamming into the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Rathe rushed forward and slammed his foot down onto his brother’s stomach. Pryde cried out and snarled, grabbing Rathe’s foot and tossed him aside. Rathe went flying into another pillar, hitting it and continued flying through the next one as well before crashing into another wall and landing face down on the ground.
“Boss!”
“I thought I said,” Rathe grunted, getting to his feet, “for you to shut up!” He reached into his pack and pulled out another three vials of Wraith blood.
“No you don’t!” Pryde shouted, darted forward.
Rathe whipped his arm out, sending several throwing knives at Pryde. The knives hit his arms and Pryde hissed, grabbing at the knives. He cried out when the knives started to burn his skin. Ignoring the pain, he yanked them out, hissing as his wounds sizzled.
“What did you do!” he snarled.
“Seems the Wraith blood doesn’t like you,” Rathe said, another knife in his hand, pressed against his wrist. He flicked the blade faster than Pryde could see, so that it seemed as if one second his hand was attached to his arm, the next, it was severed from his body completely. He kicked the hand onto his shoulder, ignoring its indignant shout of, “Hey!” and swung his arm out. “Qetz!” he said as the blood shot out of his arm. The blood burst in midair and fourteen Blood-Wolves landed in the ground. Rathe’s hand crawled down his arm and moved back to its original spot, the skin, tendons, and bones all reforming to reconnect it. Rathe pulled the corks out of the vials of Wraith blood and swung the contents onto his wolves. The moment the blood made contact with the wolves, the blood-red creatures turned blacker that Reko’s shadow wolves, their ‘fur’ became jagged and spiked, and they began to flit in and out of sight. “Sick ’im.” The wolves vanished from sight.
Pryde looked left and right, he couldn’t sense them! His shoulder suddenly sprayed blood. He hissed, gripping it tightly with his hand while muttering a healing spell under his breath. The wound sealed instantly, but as soon as it did, his pants were torn and his legs were cut in jagged slashes. He hissed again and muttered another spell, his legs healing as fast as they were cut. He pulled out two daggers from behind his back and crouched, his eyes flitting around, trying to catch a hint of where the next attack would come from. A snarl to his left alerted him and he jumped aside, slashing out with one dagger as he did. A black Blood-wolf burst as its head was cut off from the upper-jaw up. Black blood flew everywhere and Pryde howled as some of it splattered his body, burning his skin.
“What are you going to do now?” came Rathe’s cocky voice. “Can’t see them, can’t kill them without getting harmed. I’ve got you cornered.”
Pryde snarled and lunged at Rathe, only to be knocked aside by another of his brother’s annoying wolves, this one was larger than all the others. He hit the wall. Instantly, four wolves latched onto his arms and legs, standing on each other to pin him against the wall.
“Qeritz!” Rathe shouted and eight of the remaining wolves appeared and then burst apart, the blood shooting towards his outstretched arm. The blood formed a ball which changed instantly the moment his hand touched it. It bubbled and stretched, smoothing out as it grew into a long scythe, instantly solid, though it looked as though it continued to shift around as if still deciding what to look like. Rathe was breathing hard, he had never done this before, something he was hoping to test during his next fight with Reko, but he didn’t have much choice now. “When I’m done with you, I’ll need to thank Reko for the inspiration for this.” He gripped the scythe’s handle with both hands and turned, preparing to strike. “It’s over Pryde!” he swung the scythe around, the handle shooting out, closing the gap between it and Pryde’s head.
Pryde snapped his fingers and the chain on his sword shot up, the scythe tip slashing at the Blood-wolves that held him. They burst, causing his skin to sizzle and burn, but he ignored the pain and reached out to grab the scythe’s blade. The blade couldn’t move in his grip, though the edge of it had still managed to cut partway into his hand. Instantly the wound began to sizzle, and he pushed the blade away, hissing in anger. He reached for the chain to his sword, but his hand swerved to the side, slamming itself into a large stone. He tried to move his arm again, but it wouldn’t obey him. He heard Rathe snickering. “What the hell did you do!” he demanded.
“Blood control, rather simple really. You see, this scythe is still made of blood. When it cut you, it slipped some of my blood into your hand, so now it’s mine to do with as I wish. For instance,” Rathe snapped his fingers.
Pryde’s hand formed a fist and slammed itself into its owner’s jaw.
Rathe laughed, making the hand repeat this action. “Quit hitting yourself, quit hitting yourself, quit hitting yourself.”
“Boss, I wish you’d stop playing around and finish him off.”
“Can it, this is fun to watch.”
Pryde snarled and grabbed one of the knives he kept behind his back, bringing it around to slash his wrist. Blood shot out of the wound, black and red mixed together on the ground. Instantly he regained control of it. He hissed out another healing spell and the wound closed up. His fangs extended as he hissed loudly at Rathe. “You’re dead for that, Brat!” he spat, getting to his feet. “You hear me?!” He grabbed his sword and swung the chain at Rathe. The damned giant Blood-wolf jumped in front of his annoying brother and grabbed the chain in its jaws, giving a good hard tug that sent Pryde flying straight at it. “Out of my way!” He grabbed the top of the mutt’s jaws and yanked as he flew past, ripping its upper head off, snarling as his back burned from the blood spatter. He grabbed the chain and continued to fly over Rathe’s head, wrapping the chain around his neck and landed neatly behind him. Pryde yanked the chain hard, sending Rathe flying over him and crashing on the ground, the chain tightening around his neck.
Rathe choked, pulling at the chain, trying to breathe. His head was feeling fuzzy.
Am I going to die here?
The thought of death had never bothered him before; it was a fact of life that he had accepted. Even so-called immortals like Vampires and the elder Werewolves died, whether by the hands of another or, though it was rare for any to live that long, of old age. The body would stay intact, preserved forever, never decaying, but the minds would eventually fail and deteriorate. He never feared death; he knew it was only a matter of time before he met his end. He had hoped that it would be while fighting Reko. That brat got better each time they met; it wouldn’t be too long, by immortal standards, before he would force Rathe to fight seriously. Reko fought to win, he fought with the intent to kill, whereas Rathe had only fought him for fun, only using portions of his full strength. Last time they fought, he had to raise himself to 50%, the time before had been 43%. Rathe knew that in a few more fights, he’d have to go all out and fight to kill. He’d have been content if he died fighting the brat. But dying here? Losing to Pryde? Was this really all he was good for? It had been centuries since he last faced Pryde, since he was beaten to a pulp. He’d gone through so many battles since then, he’d shared his body with Vladimir, learned the old bat’s strategies, he’d gotten so much stronger… Pryde never had to try; he was always the best at everything. Was he only good for this? Doing Pryde’s dirty work without even knowing? Was this what he had spent all those years getting stronger for?
Young one, are you really giving up so easily?
Vladimir?
You had so much promise, I bestowed my knowledge and skills to you. Are you going to show me that I chose the wrong vessel?
Shut your trap Damn Oldie! You did crap for me!
You’re all bark and no bite!
“Sh-shut… up…”
You’re a whipped dog!
“I said… Shut… up!” Rathe gripped the chain with one hand and grabbed the last four vials of wraith blood at his other hand. His hand took three of them and sucked them into its mouth. The final one he smashed into Pryde’s face, the glass shattered, cutting into Pryde’s face as the blood seared his skin. Pryde yelled and let go of the chain, falling back, grabbing his face in his hands. Rathe yanked the chains away from his neck and grabbed Pryde by the scruff of his shirt, throwing him into one of the cave’s natural pillars. He jumped to his feet and his hand spat out the last three vials of Wraith blood. He snapped his fingers and the blood scythe burst, the blood shooting back into his hand’s open mouth. “Hey, Damn Parasite. Do me a favor and go to your other half.
“Boss?”
“Just do it! Chances are I won’t make it, and the more Wraith blood I take, the more I can be controlled and over heard by Jager. I’d rather you were gone before that happened, you have more information on everything than I want to have in the hands of some psycho. Besides, Reko can’t do crap with your other half unless you’re there too. Get going and help him out.”
“You sure about this?”
“Go!”
“Okay, okay… just promise you won’t overdo things,” the hand said.
Rathe said nothing. He heard the hand sigh and felt it go numb, as if the circulation had been cut off. Then feeling came back to it and he knew it was gone to wherever Reko had its twin. He gripped the vials of blood and pulled out the cork stoppers before downing the entire contents. His body shuddered and felt like it was burning from the inside out. He fell to his knees as the shudders racked his body, opening his mouth to cry out, but nothing came out other than a gurgling choking sound. He stared as his skin turned black, as spikes shot out of his arms and shoulders, he felt more erupt from his back and winced as two horns burst out of his skull. His head was pounding.
You have made the contract and signed your mark. You have abandoned the time you have left in this world. You have chosen the path of death in battle; you will be barred from the world of the living, shunned by the dead, cursed to fight as the true demon of your sin until time’s end. You have chosen Wraith as your future. Is this the true extent of your desire?
“Just… as long as… I get to… watch him be torn to shreds by my hands…”
Then your soul now belongs to the Wraith king. As soon as your wish is fulfilled, you will be his to do with as he pleases. Enjoy this final gift, Rathe Syn.
Rathe hissed and stood up, looking at his body. He had surpassed the limitations of the Wraith blood, this was his form now. His hands began to crack and he could see what looked like magma flowing through his veins. Well, I always knew I was going to hell. Might as well go in style. Rathe hissed, his eyes turned pure white and the burning sensation in his body started to grow.
Pryde stared at his brother, transfixed by the transformation. “What the hell have you done to yourself, Brother? You look positively demonic.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rathe replied, vanishing from sight to reappear behind Pryde. “Sorry, but I don’t have the time to explain things to you.” Without another word he grabbed the back of Pryde’s neck and threw him into the nearest stone pillar. Not pausing to think, he dashed forward and gripped Pryde’s skull, slamming him against the rocks again and again before thrusting his nails through his brother’s spine with a sickening CRACK!
Rathe slowly got to his feet and licked the blood off his fingers, watching his brother’s body warily. Pryde didn’t move an inch. “Too easy…”
“How right you are,” came a voice from behind him.
Rathe’s blood ran cold as he heard a familiar snap of the fingers and turned slowly. There, walking out from behind another pillar, was Pryde, free of any wounds or weariness.
“I’m impressed. I didn’t think you’d be able to take down my doppelganger,” this Pryde said, leaning against the pillar. “Though it looks like you had to pull out all the stops to do so. Sad really, he’s my weakest copy.”
“What the-?” Rathe demanded. “How are you still alive?”
“I just told you, you wasted one of my doppelgangers. You really don’t listen to your betters do you?”
“Cheating b*****d!” Rathe shouted, dashing forward faster than light. Before he finished moving, Pryde had his head gripped in one hand, and brought the other back, nails sharpening.
“You talk too much,” Pryde hissed and thrust his hand through Rathe’s right lung before flinging him into the pillar next to the doppelganger. The damage from the previous battle had caused the cavern’s ceiling to crack heavily and the impact of Rathe’s body slamming into the pillar caused it to collapse The cave’s ceiling crumbled, giant chunks of stone came crashing down on him. Pryde was about to run after him to finish the job when he saw Rathe’s pack lying next to the first pile of rubble. He glanced at the small mountain of stones where his brother lay, then walked over to the pack. Picking it up, he turned it over and emptied the contents to the floor. Vials of blood shattered on the ground, pieces of some invention Rathe had constructed clattered and smashed, several varying throwing knives and pieces to repair his stake mechanism clanged down, as did an ancient book and eight colored stones. Pryde grinned and tossed the bag aside, bending down to pick up the last items.
“At last, Vladimir’s own journal with a copy of the Ancient texts and creatures, Jager will be pleased. And the keystones, oh how long I’ve been looking for you…” Pryde turned the book over and looked at its cover. “I’m surprised that you managed to find this, Vladimir was said to have destroyed this long ago. But then again, you did have him in your head until two years ago, so you must have learned of its true location then. I’d never have thought it possible until Jager told me about it.” He opened the book up and flipped through its pages. “My, my, how shamed Alexandra the Traitor would be is she knew what was in here. The things he did to the human women; and the experiments he made on his own kind… and these notes here on such dark magic, not to mention these things about plans for expansion. The old man has a twisted mind he hid well.” He stopped at the last page, and his grin grew. Here was what he wanted. He took the keystones and, after glancing at the mountain of rubble where Rathe lay, walked back into the room with the Wraith statue. It took him a few seconds, but he eventually found what he was looking for: a stone panel at the base of the statue with seven indentations, the exact size of each keystone. Rathe hadn’t noticed it; the fool was just concerned with keeping the stones away from him. He placed the stones into their spots. A grinding noise came from behind the tablet, and Pryde watched as it started to be pushed out of the rest of the statue until, with a crash, it fell to the ground and shattered, revealing a hidden slot inside. Pryde bent down and reached into the slot, feeling around until his hand touched something cool and metallic. He grabbed it and pulled his arm out, looking at the gun in his hand. “Yes,” he said, reading the inscription on it. “Finally. With this, I can be free of Jager. One shot from this little baby and he’ll be-.”
“Be what, exactly?”
Pryde whirled around. Rathe was leaning against the entrance to the cave, looking like he was on his last legs. His teeth and nails had nearly gone back to their normal size, and traces of his normal black hair started to show. His skin slowly reverted to its normal self while one eye remained all black and the other had returned to normal.
“What exactly is so important about that damn gun?” he said, gripping his shoulder as he stumbled into the cave.
“This is the only weapon of its kind. Crafted by a sorcerer, it has thirteen bullets in it. It can only use those, and once they’re gone it won’t work. This gun’s bullets can kill anything, Spirit, Vamp, Wraith, Wolf, human, anything, in one shot.”
“And you plan on using it on Jager once he’s served his usefulness to you? Do you even know if it even works anymore?”
“It’s only been fired ten times since it was made, that leaves three bullets for me to do with as I wish.”
Pryde-bloodling has found the oldbook Wraithking-Jager requested?
The ‘voice’ caught both Vampires’ attention. A shimmer had appeared in the air behind Pryde. They watched as a strange, wolf-like creature stepped out. It had dark-grey fur, and the rough shape of a wolf, but that was where the similarities ended. It had five eyes on its head; two placed normally, one on its forehead, and two on the backs of its ears. Eight more lined its sides, four on its left and four on its right. Its tail was long and ended in a flat pad, where yet another eye in the middle of that pad. Two extra eyes were on the elbows of its forelegs, and a small stalk, like an extra tail, came out the end of those elbows, which had a final pair of eyes on the ends. All eighteen eyes were fixed on Pryde, their piercing blue color glowed as it repeated its words, using the same telepathic Mindspeech as before.
Pryde-bloodling has found the oldbook Wraithking-Jager requested?
“Yes, Aarec, I have,” Pryde replied.
Aarec, the dimension-wolf, tapped the ground with one of his front paws and another shimmer appeared, this time next to Pryde.
Pryde-bloodling will put the oldbook in the nonspace where it will be delivered to Wraithking-Jager.
Pryde shrugged and tossed the book into the distortion. The book vanished and, with one last shimmer, like a final ripple in a pool of water, so did the distortion. Aarec tilted his head to the side, as if listening to something.
Wraithking-Jager has confirmed delivery. Pryde-bloodling has fulfilled its usefulness. Pryde-bloodling will be removed now.
Aarec didn’t get a chance to step back into its nonspace. Pryde pointed the gun at him and fired. The bullet hit the eye in the middle of Aarec’s head. Aarec blinked once, lifted a paw and looked at it, as if trying to figure out what it was. The paw started to dissolve, blowing away in a cloud of dust. Soon, the rest of Aarec’s body followed suit, and, with a last look at Pryde, it blew away into nothing, the distortion behind it fading. Pryde looked back at the gun.
“Make that two bullets left.”
Rathe stared. “What… what did you do?”
“What did it look like? I removed something that was in my way.” He looked over at Rathe, then cocked his head, listening to something. Rathe listened too. The sound of running echoed through the cavern. “Sounds like the cavalry has arrived for you,” Pryde said. He pointed the gun at Rathe and began backing towards the distortion. Aarec’s portals wouldn’t stay open for long now that the creature was dead, and with only two bullets left, he needed to get out without another fight, or else he’d waste his chance to replace Jager.
Rathe saw what Pryde was doing and swung his arm at his brother. A single, normal stake shot out, faster than Pryde could dodge. The stake hit his head and went straight through. Pryde fell back into the distortion, his eyes already losing their life. His finger reflexively pulled the trigger on the gun, which fired before falling out of his hand and hit the ground. Rathe didn’t have time to move. The bullet pierced his heart and he fell to his knees. Pryde and the distortion vanished. The footfalls echoed louder until Rathe saw Rafe his companions run into the cave. He stumbled over to the gun and picked it up, not knowing how long he had left.
“Rathe!” Rafe cried out and ran over to the Vampire.
Rathe turned and leaned against the base of the Wraith statue. “Heya Damn Pup. Late as always, and the same to your little band of pals. Where’s the Damn Brat?” He acted nonchalant, and faked scanning the group for Reko.
Rafe stared at Rathe’s chest. “Y-you’re dissolving… Your chest is turning to dust…”
Rathe looked down. “So I am, how about that. Not much time then…” He motioned for the Pup to come forward. Rafe looked hesitant, but obeyed. Rathe held out the hand holding the gun and placed it in Rafe’s once the boy took it. “Now listen up Damn Pup. I’m only going to say this once. This thing is the only weapon that can kill that Damn Wraith, apart from you tearing off his head. There’s only one bullet left in here so don’t you dare miss!”
Rafe looked dumbly from the gun to Rathe. “Did it… do that to-?”
“Not important.” Rathe waved his hand, or would have, but it had already dissolved. He looked down at the rest of his body. The same process was taking place, accelerating as more and more of him vanished. “Be sure to tell the Damn Brat… That I’ll be waiting on the other side to finish our fight… I refuse to let him win…”
Rathe’s body finished dissolving and the last of his dust blew away, leaving only his sword behind.
