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Despite the looming threat of the black tide slowly encroaching the lands, that one citizen of Okhema had made a good point: the black tide was only something that they citizens had only ever heard of, never seen. Because there were people out there fighting it, pushing it back – he thinks of the one person who had walked off, silently and without fanfare, to face against the tide alone so that they could all have more time – making sure that darkness never touched the brightness of Kephale’s light.
Now, Phainon could only watch in horror and disbelief, his throat seizing as the screams of the people rang in his ears. Darkness swept across the land, a crimson tinge turning the sky blood-red. Kephale’s massive form was doused in shadow, the light blotted out as the tide swallowed it whole.
Fear gripped his heart.
He ran.
Distantly, he recognized the alarmed voices of the trailblazers as they chased after him, pushing against the panicking crowd. There was a part of him screaming to calm and protect the people, to reassure them that the Heirs would sooner die than let the tide claim Okhema, but a larger part, the part that he’d tried so hard to suppress ever since that fateful goodbye by the gates –
If we meet again in the next life, you should come visit my library.
No, Phainon thought to himself, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself further towards the baths, knowing that they had to get to Dawncloud. Just because the black tide is here doesn’t mean that – that –
He skidded to a stop at the edge, breathing heavily. Beside him, the two travellers caught up, giving him identical looks of concern.
A loud groan drew his mind away from the worry and fear that had sunk its claws into his mind, and the three of them waited almost impatiently for the hand to reach the platform.
The journey to Dawncloud took exactly a minute, but every second that passed felt like an eternity. Phainon stepped forward, a sick, heavy knot in his gut when all he could see was darkness.
“Aeons…” Dan Heng breathed, his brows furrowing with horror. Beside him, Caelus stared, his own visage sombre.
Their only saving grace was the cacophony of sounds they could still here even from this height. Had the city been completely silent… Phainon didn’t want to think of that. A desolate town ravaged by monsters, cloaked in darkness and buried in silence with nothing but the taste of ash in the wind –
The jolt of the elevator shook him out of the memories. The hero turned on his feet, quickly stepping off, Dan Heng and Caelus following close behind. It took effort, but he forced himself to lock the insidious thoughts away, it wouldn’t do to lose faith in Mydei, not after everything he’d done to buy them so much time.
There was a whisper in the wind.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled –
Phainon whirled around, summoning his great sword at the same time, his instincts screaming at him. He lifted his weapon just in time to block a jagged silver blade, the metal screeching loudly as they clashed. His breath caught in his throat, his own azure eyes staring back at him from the gleam of the Flame Reaver’s mask.
Phainon snarled and shoved his sword forward, pushing the Flame Reaver back. The dark oily sensation of hatred coiled within his chest at the sight of the creature that had thoroughly destroyed his world, and he bared his teeth, lunging forward.
It was reckless, he knew, to go against this creature that had beat them into the dust once before, to fight against a monster that could withstand the full destruction of the lance of fury but –
He thinks of soft peach hair stained with ichor, of the cries of a child demigod who could do nothing against their imminent death. He thinks of a lance thundering through the sky carrying a message. He thinks of a golden soul trapped in the river of souls doing its best to fight against the flow –
Okhema’s Deliverer swung his sword, his eyes blazing with rage and fury.
The Reaver parried easily, and Phainon gritted his teeth, jumping backwards to avoid the strike from the clones that blurred into existence around him. A viridescent spear slammed into the clone at his back, and a blast of fire took out the ones beside him. He glanced at his companions, reassured in their support, and focused on the Reaver’s true body. Twice now, he’d gotten the chance to face against this creature that destroyed everything in his life, and twice now he hadn’t managed to do more than stall him.
His lips curled into a sneer, and he darted forwards, trusting that his companions would cover his back.
They clashed repeatedly, a deadly dance reminiscent of all the times he sparred against Mydei – how strange, that the spars he fought for simple enjoyment honed his reflexes to this point – save for the fact that every dodge here was crucial, and a single blow meant certain death.
He twisted away from a jab, feeling the blade almost gently sliding past his skin. The wound burned in response. He planted his feet on the ground, knocking the blade away from him. He lunged forward at the opening, stabbing his sword deep into the Reaver’s abdomen, twisting it viciously. The sweet sound of metal cracking filled his ears, and Phainon bared his teeth, glaring into the Reaver’s mask, wishing he could tear it off from the monster’s face.
“Phainon, look out!”
He jolted backwards, but the Reaver wrapped a large hand over the blade embedded in him, yanking it further into his body. Phainon tugged at the blade, his instincts screaming at him to move –
The Reaver released his grip on the sword, the sudden lack of resistance sending Phainon stumbling backwards –
He felt a shimmer of energy settle around him just as a force crashed into his back. He flinched, the impact rattling his bones, but brought his sword up defensively before he had even fully recovered. He chanced a glance backwards, looking at Caelus who stared grimly back at him, the grey-haired traveller covered in a warm orange glow that resonated in time with his lance. Phainon turned back to face the Reaver, who had gone dangerously still.
An uneasy weight tugged at his chest, and Phainon lunged forward. The Flame Reaver leapt away, the air distorting around him as he vanished. Phainon stumbled as his blade cut through the empty space where the monster once stood. Quickly, he righted himself, angling his weapon in front of him, his eyes narrowed in anticipation of where the Reaver would next appear. He heard the telltale sound of the air ripping, and whirled, slashing forward.
His sword clashed against broken silver.
Phainon cursed, realizing almost instantly that the Reaver before him was coloured a faded grey – a clone. He snarled viciously and twisted his blade, pushing the Reaver’s sword to the side before swinging the weapon back, the clone crumbling into dust.
He was whirling around before the dust even settled, breath caught in his lungs.
Phainon looked at Caelus, their eyes meeting across the battlefield. He saw the space behind the trailblazer twist and warp, the true body of the Reaver melting out from the rift. He dashed forward, his heart racing with fear because –
He wasn’t going to make it.
Dan Heng’s cry of alarm tore at his chest, and Phainon could do nothing but watch as Caelus – alarmed and recognizing the horror on their faces – turned, his lance already in hand and glowing with the power of Preservation, knowing that it was too late. The sword cut towards him –
“Mydei,” Phainon breathed almost instinctively, stretching a hand towards his friend, hoping against hope that he could stop the Reaver in time, “Help me, Mydeimos!”
The skies split open.
A golden spear sliced through the air, heat blazing in its wake. It crashed down upon the Flame Reaver, the spear tearing straight through the armor, the metal cracking apart and the phantom body beneath crumbling into dust. The sheer force of the blast threw them all apart, Phainon skidding backwards, raising a hand up to shield his face from the flying debris. Even then, despite the violent entry, none of the destructive power carried in that spear laid a single mark on them.
Slowly, Phainon lowered his hand, the unease that had been slowly constricting his lungs finally easing at the sight of the familiar mop of blond hair. The demigod glanced over his shoulder, their gazes meeting for the first time since their farewell all those months ago.
Phainon pressed his lips together and nodded, tightening his grip on his sword as Mydei turned back to face the Flame Reaver, a dark crimson aura swirling around him. It was a familiar stance, one that they’d always taken every time Aglaea sent them out on a mission together. Mydei would spearhead their assault, launching himself at the enemies with barely a care for their attacks, and Phainon would cover his back, making sure none of the enemies tried taking a shot at him.
(The burden of the knowledge he carried – the promise he’d given to Mydei all those weeks back – weighed even more on his heart now.)
The Flame Reaver hovered in the air, and something inside Phainon twisted with hatred. It galled him that twice now, this creature had taken the full brunt of the Lance of Fury, and still he returned with not a single mark on him. Shaking his head minutely, he forced his mind to clear. He’d spent weeks training with Caelus for this moment, using Oronyx’s powers to fight the Reaver again and again and again –
The Reaver vanished, and Phainon moved immediately, leaping forward. He clashed against two clones, their twin swords pushing him away. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two trailblazers regrouping, their backs against each other.
Mydei lunged for the Reaver’s main body, his lips curled back in a violent snarl. Blood red crystals erupted from his arms and beneath his feet, slicing through the Reaver’s body with every punch and kick. He bared his teeth, forming a lance in his hand and throwing it. The spear buried itself into the Reaver, exploding into sharp crystals that shredded the Reaver’s physical form.
Even still, the clones persisted.
Unwilling to give the Reaver even an inch, Mydei launched himself at the crystal tomb, another spear already forming in his hand. Phainon slashed through both the clones dogpiling him, twisting and leaping after Mydei, intent on driving his sword through the Reaver too.
The crystal exploded, and the same warmth that had settled over him earlier wrapped around his skin once more. The shards bounced off him harmlessly, and Phainon pushed through to attack the Reaver. The monster growled and vanished, teleporting towards Caelus, who was shoved out of the way by Dan Heng, the latter catching the blade on his spear, his emerald eyes alight with rage.
The fight carried on this way – the Flame Reaver teleporting between them, trying to cut one of them down while the clones distracted the rest. They fought well together, covering each other's backs with barely a word. Caelus' strange powers blanketed them, stopping the Reaver's swords from hitting them, sending a pulse of power through their bodies that carried the barest whispers of a song in their ears.
It only took a split second.
The Reaver slashed at Caelus - tired and worn out from using all his powers simultaneously - the attack blocked at the last minute by Dan Heng leaping in front of his friend. The Reaver's sword dug into the other man’s arm as he dodged backwards, a shout of pain tearing itself involuntarily from his throat. Phainon turned to help, but Mydei was already there, blocking the next blow. His feet slid on the pavement, and he stumbled – just for a second.
A dozen clones burst into existence, all of them converging on Mydei.
Phainon moved to intercept, but his instincts screamed at him.
He whirled around, the sound of ripping right beside his ear and raised his sword, meeting the jagged blade of the monster –
The edge of the Reaver’s sword snags his blade, and the creature twists. The handle tore itself out of his hands, the divine weapon sent flying off to the side. Phainon throws himself after it, but a large claw curled around his throat, the metal of the gauntlet eating painfully into his skin. The grip tightened, and he choked, hands coming up to grasp at his neck. He felt the cartilage shift under his skin, the edges of his vision growing dark.
No.
Was this the end for him?
All the hopes and dreams that he carried –
The promises he made –
Was this how it ended?
Phainon wheezed, panic filling his chest as he scrabbled against the hold that the Reaver had on him. There was a dark rumble resonating in his ears, and it took him precious seconds to recognize that the Reaver was laughing.
Fury burned within him but there was nothing he could do but gasp as the Reaver brought him closer, the sword glinting in Kephale’s dying light by his side –
He was flung backwards, his back colliding painfully against the ground. Years of instinct had him rolling away, stumbling to his feet through the pain radiating through his bones even though he knew, deep inside, that it was too late –
A gleam of metal slipped past the spots marring his vision, and he tried to dodge, tried to force his body to just move –
“Phainon!”
There was a flash of crimson, and a force – gentle, yet firm, pushing him backwards –
The sickening crunch of bone echoed in his ears.
Phainon stared, uncomprehending.
He stared, at Mydei, who stood before him, a hand stretched towards him and the barest flicker of relief in his eyes.
He stared – at the jagged blade protruding from his chest.
“Phai –” the demigod started, the words that followed viciously silenced as another blade punched through him, tearing a gasp from his throat.
Phainon stared, his mind blank. He watched, numb, as the Reaver ripped the swords out from Mydei’s back, golden blood splattering across the floor. He stared as Mydei looked at him, his gaze softening in the way it did when it was just the two of them in the middle of the darkness, huddled so close that their breaths mingled and their bodies pressed tightly against each other.
He stared – ignoring the roar of an azure dragon as it crashed against the Reaver, flinging the monster away – as the god of strife, his friend, his beloved, his partner –
Crumpled to the ground.
There was nothing in his mind, save a blank numbness.
The sounds of the battle were distant, even as his instincts screamed at him to fight, to move, to help the rest of his companions –
Phainon took a step forward.
And another.
His knees smashed against the ground, but the pain barely registered. With trembling hands, he reached out towards Mydei, gently sliding his hands through his hair, lifting the other man up. He tucked Mydei’s head into the crook of his neck, the faintest puff of air beating against his throat.
Phainon pulled him closer, his vision blurring.
“Deliverer…”
A sob escaped him.
Phainon bent over, his hand sliding downwards, pressing against the gaping wound in Mydei’s chest. Almost immediately, warm blood soaked through his gloves, the liquid seeping between his fingers despite his fervent efforts.
“No.” he pleaded, “No no no no – Mydei please, stay with me. Stay – don’t –”, his throat tightened, “Don’t leave me.” Alone, he doesn’t say.
Mydei reached up weakly, brushing away the tears trailing down his cheek.
“I’m sorry.” He murmured, his voice fading, “Phainon…”
“I’ll wait for you in the next life.”
(I love you.)
His hand fell slack, but Phainon caught it, gripping it tightly.
No no no this couldn’t be happening.
This couldn’t –
Mydei wasn’t –
Something inside him splintered and cracked – a jagged chasm tearing through him, splitting and clawing its way out from deep within.
His eyes burned as fire scorched him from inside him. Phainon curled over the body of the last person he had left –
And screamed.