A. F. Kay
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Divine Apostasy Book 7 - Chapter 85
🕑 Added 2023-02-11 05:15:24 +0000 UTCChapter 85
The Aspect held a seven-foot-long scythe, their hand hidden by a dark haze that emerged from the black robe. The robe’s hood cast the face in shadow, and the cloth fluttered as if an invisible wind touched it. The pale horse walked slowly, the hoofbeats eerily silent.
Echo had returned.
Tarot had predicted this moment as well. Your plans, buried under an avalanche of the past, will suffocate and fail. Harken the wolf and the path not taken, or death will surely find you.
Death had found Ruwen.
More despair than the third meditation could handle filled Ruwen, and for a moment his heart and mind broke. They had a chance against four Aspects, but five seemed unlikely unless he used Spirit. And now that they would force him into using his Spirit anyway, he could have done that earlier and saved everyone. This battle could have ended before it began. Worse, if he and Sift survived this, Ruwen would likely carry permanent scars, and the rest of the Universe would suffer.
And above it all, the knowledge that this was his fault. He could have prevented this entire situation if he’d killed these Aspects in the Infernal Realm. This blame extended to Echo. Instead of looking for a way to trap her in one of the trials, he’d tried to reach the part of her he hoped existed.
The third meditation recovered from the surge and Ruwen’s emotions once again leveled off, although the pain of them remained.
If I don’t use Spirit, Ruwen told Overlord, I die. Five Aspects is too much with just Mana.
I know, Overlord said with a sigh.
I could have saved them.
Maybe. We don’t know yet. I have your memories of the Sixth Rune now. The pain when you tried to use your Core verged on unbearable. I doubt much has changed in a week, despite the heal from Miranda. The most likely scenario is you try to cast a Spirit spell, curl up into a ball, and are promptly banished to the Infernal Realm.
Pestilence, Plague, and Poison sat astride their horses not far from War, who stood holding an unconscious Nymthus by the hair. They all watched the Aspect of Death’s slow approach.
As Ruwen prepared for the worst, he wondered how Echo could break her Bamboo Viper Clan vows. The answer sat right in front of him he realized. The Aspects. The armor must change enough about a person that when they became their Aspect, the vows didn’t hold. He would use that same advantage when he hunted down and killed Echo for her part in this.
Death stopped ten feet from War, and the other Aspects watched from Death’s left side, fifteen feet away.
“You are a welcome sight, Sister,” War said. “Although I must confess, I only saved one for you.”
Death turned their head and studied the heap of bodies and then the pile of heads. Slowly Death turned their head toward Ruwen and Sift, and the blackness under the hood studied them for a few seconds, before returning their gaze to War.
“What was your mission here?” Death asked, the voice that of a young woman.
“Oh, True God, no,” Sift whispered, recognizing Echo’s voice.
War nodded his head toward Ruwen. “Banish the brat and find the missing crossing rings if possible.”
Death pointed at the pile of heads with their Scythe. “Then what is this?”
“An opportunity for some much-needed fun. The grass snakes are enemies.”
“I see,” Death said. “Do you desire my belt as well, War? Would you like to remove my head to claim it?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Regardless of your Clan, you will always be one of us.”
Death looked again at the pile of heads, not looking away for several seconds, as if memorizing every face. Death returned its gaze to War. Nymthus had awoken from whatever had affected her and she stared in terror at the black clad Aspect.
“Release the woman,” Death said. “Leave the dead, including their belts. Depart this place.”
The words shocked everyone in the glade.
War recovered first. “What do you mean? Your father sent us here.”
Death pointed their Scythe at Ruwen. “For him.”
“Then let us finish our task,” Plague said.
The pale horse pranced in place, as if sensing their rider’s emotions. “It is too late for that.”
Poison shifted on his horse. “Are you telling us to disobey your father?”
“This, you have already accomplished,” Death responded.
War stood up straight and pointed an armored finger at Death. “Listen here, Echodriel, you—”
A wave of magical energy pulsed outward from Death. Harmony detected the vast imbalance to the surroundings as Sift wavered and dropped to the ground, his soul power interrupted. The Aspects became unnaturally still, as if locked in place.
In a booming voice, deep and terrifying, but still Echo’s, Death responded. “Silence! You face Death. Defy me and I will harvest your souls.”
After three seconds, Death gave their scythe a small slash, ending the spell and releasing the Aspects. Sift regained the use of his soul power and hovered off the ground again.
In disgust, War threw Nymthus toward Death. As soon as War released Nymthus, she rotated her body with a hard twist and slammed her bare foot into War’s plate helm, creating a thunderous ringing sound.
Ruwen winced, expecting to hear bones snapping, but the Health bar under Nymthus didn’t waver. War dropped to his knees, stunned by the massive blow, and Nymthus rolled to her feet and sprinted toward Ruwen.
Death turned its pale horse toward Ruwen and slowly advanced. Nymthus stood beside him, breathing hard. Hope warred with disbelief and doubt, whipsawing his thoughts. Had Echo really just evened the odds? Or, maybe, if the Aspects obeyed her, ended this fight? Or was this more cruelty from the Aspects as they toyed with their victims.
Unsure, Ruwen prepared to rotate his Core and destroy every Aspect here, including most probably, himself.
Death’s casual pace finally brought them to Ruwen, and they turned to face the other four Aspects.
War punched the ground, and the area shook. He stood and pointed a finger at Death. “Your father will hear of this!”
“I am sure of it,” Death said.
The other Aspects remained silent, none of them wanting to fight Lalquinrial’s daughter and the Aspect of Death. War summoned his red steed, and the four Aspects galloped into the sky.
Death watched them for ten seconds and then dismissed her horse. The black robe fluttered in an unseen breeze and Death slid across the ground, their steps leaving no vibrations or other detectable clues. When Death reached the pile of heads, it dropped to its knees. A heartbeat later, the robe disappeared, and the small form of Echo remained.
Rips, burns, and blood, some of it her own, covered Echo’s uniform, as if she’d just returned from battle. Tears spilled silently down her cheeks as she stared at the pile.
Nymthus sobbed and ran toward the remains of her friends. Sift released his soul and dropped heavily to the ground, he closed his eyes at the horrible sight, and a low moan of despair escaped his lips.
Ruwen strode forward numbly and collapsed to his knees between Echo and Nymthus. He yanked himself out of the third meditation and embraced the harvest he had planted. The pain in his chest grew so intense he gasped.
“I’m sorry,” Ruwen whispered to the sightless eyes. He rocked back and forth on his knees, unsure what to do. “I’m sorry,” he repeated again. Anguish choked him. His eyes grew blurry, but he forced himself to repeat the phrase to every dead classmate and friend. “I’m sorry.”
The useless and pathetic words Ruwen offered did nothing to ease the mountain of guilt he felt or fix the terrible loss their families would soon experience.
But the words were all Ruwen had, because he didn’t have a good excuse. They had died because of him and his foolish decisions.
