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Light's Eclipse Page Eighteen
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((What the heck is this? If there have been people waiting patiently for the this for the last year, then thank you very much so. Of course, if you need a reminder what is going on, then please go to the previous page and refresh yourself! And now, with no further delay, Page Eighteen: The End))
“Victor! Your friend is about to kill us all! Care for a truce?”
Quinton’s mouth now dropped to the ground. He stammered to find the words that could describe his feelings. To call a truce with a undead was unheard of! Paladins working with the undead? Blasphemy.
Victor parried a fast sword jab from a Forsaken, unleashed a killing blow of his once ally, then looked over to his father. He replied, “Fine.”
Deafening silence. Not one sound. A pin drop could be heard, if someone was to do such an odd action. Quinton was still fumbling over simple syllables to try find the words to express his disbelief and horror. He could not get over even the thought of holy paladins aligning themselves with the undead. Even if he had been a paladin for the matter of a few hours, his life long hatred of the living dead was still in play. Above, the sickly clouds that could be described as smog hanging high in the sky blocked the sun, yet Quinton’s Lightbringer, his gold armor that he was gifted with by the ghost of Dread Lighthammer earlier, glowed, a stark contrast from his blank visage. He loosened his grip on Strongwill, the other gift he was granted.
Daellin, too, refused to mutter anything as the seconds passed. For the elder paladin, each moment that passed felt more like an age. It seemed as if as time lingered on, time itself slowed. He refused to move his trance from his “son’s” blank face. Though, to Victor’s credit, being undead it is hard for one to express facial emotion. Daellin, however, did not restrain from showing his emotion through his face. Rage. Hatred. Love. Fear. Sorrow. All of these feelings that have been building inside, cooking for decades in the pot that is the paladin. It took Victor to act as a catalyst for these emotions to flood out from his insides.
The recently betrayed Forsaken Victor, who only a few minutes ago was on the verge of fulfilling his desire to murder his estranged father, now forced to ally himself with him to save his life. All because of his once considered only friend, Namine. How dare she turn her back on me he repeatedly thought of. Everything was working out perfectly for him, but he was thrown aside by her. He turned his gaze from his father to Namine, whose large necromantic spell that was forming between her slightly rotted hands was growing at an alarming rate.
These few moments of silence and formation of a truly odd alliance was broken by a ghastly series of crackles. The two paladins of the Light and the son of death and darkness turned their attention to Namine, the source of this terrible and piercing laughter that could be described as a call of a wraith for its long gone companions.
“Why, this is quite the turn of events! Nonetheless, the resolution to this pitiful play shall end in the same manner!” Namine announced in a theatrical manner, however her voice was strained due to keeping her spell from collapsing.
Daellin, still watching the she-witch, asked his son, “Ideas, Victor?” Before Victor could even say a word, Quinton noticed that Daellin actually used his son’s name and not some vulgar name for an undead. He quickly shrugged it off keeping in mind the circumstances.
Victor chuckled slightly, as the mad Forsaken tends to do, before answering his father. “They call it the End. I have only witnessed her do it once before, resulting a hundred men killed in seconds. While it may take a few minutes to muster, the results are extremely impressive. Plus, the spell will wipe out everything in a several hundred meter radius, thus resulting escape pointless. In addition, if you even go close to her, the spell will evaporate your being…” He recounted all the details before Quinton interrupted him from continuing.
“How do we stop it?” Quinton yelled at Victor
Victor turned to the younger paladin and gave a nasty grin and answered, “One does not “stop it,” boy. But, I do have a theory.” He then terminated his grin, possibly for once in his undead life since turning mad, grew more serious. At least, serious for Victor’s standards. He pulled out his two swords that were sheathed and tossed them aside. Following this, he unbuckled and unfastened his leather vest and leggings. Daellin and Quinton looked on, obviously confused and puzzled.
Namine was floating about a couple meters above the ground of the Glades a ways away from her adversaries. The End was nearing full form, the ball of pulsating ebony and royal purple close to a diameter of one meter. Namine, clenching her mouth shut tight and kept her dead gaze beating down at Victor. No doubt years of being out of the spotlight by her “friend” were boiling inside. Her buckles and straps on her leather clothing were flapping in every direction imaginable due to the force of the End.
“Father, you gave your entire life for the Light. Perhaps the Light was the reason you abandoned me, perhaps not. What matters now is that you demonstrate once and for all the power of it.” Victor muttered as he walked towards his father. He stopped speaking to look deep into his father’s eyes. While he had lost any feelings of compassion or remorse for others, he knew no doubt that right now, he would still not be feeling any of it.
“While Namine’s defense right now would kill any of us if we go close, it only does so because either our hearts are beating or we are held together by necromancy. It would not effect one if one was entirely dead.” He paused for a breath, even though his undead state did not require any oxygen. “Father, strike me. Strike me right through where you struck when I was alive.” He pointed towards long unused heart.
While not showing sadness or pleasure in the thought, Daellin did not move. He looked on at his son, the son he never knew. In this most recent act of life, he was trying to murder him. He stammered while holding Light’s Breach at his side, trying to find a way to say something. Anything. For once in sometime, he felt conflicted. Victor shook his head in disappointment. “I would think you would gladly have done it. Weak. That is what you are father, weak! You will rather let us die than strike at your enemy.” Daellin’s rage grew intensely at his son’s speech. “You make me sick,” Victor continued, “I am glad I never knew you! I am glad you ran off from my mother while she was with child! I am happy that-”
Victor was cut short. Daellin, shaking like a leaf in a hurricane, looked down to see Light’s Breach jabbed right through Victor’s chest, where his beating heart would be. Victor twitched very slightly as he looked up to his father. A small grin grew on Victor’s visage then he mouthed “thank you.” Daellin slowly pulled out Light’s Breach then promptly dropped it to the ground then he dropped to his knees, refusing to look up. Quinton rushed to the elder paladin’s side, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Victor tripped slightly as he felt the necromantic energy that tied him from this world and the afterlife rapidly vanishing. He dragged himself, foot by foot, away from his father and towards Namine. At this point, she could barely see what was going on due to her clenched eyes and the End slowly enveloping her view.
“Have to…time this…right. Thank you, dad…” Victor muttered when he was a few body lengths away from Namine and her spell. The crackling and sheer force of the End was unimaginable now. With one last grunt of both pain and strength, he lunged at the End. Namine flashed a glance and saw the limp body of Victor in mid-air. As usual for Victor, he had a dastardly smile. However, horror enveloped Namine’s face when she realized what was occurring.
Before another moment could pass, a large suction-like sound followed by a very loud explosion occurred where Namine and the End were just at. Quinton jumped on top of Daellin to protect him from the thin veil of black and purple from the explosion that was rushing towards them. It felt like a high pressure vacuum swallowing everything in the vicinity of the epicenter that was Namine and Victor. The dome-like veil of ebony that resembled the Breach remained where the battlefield was not moments ago.
-Sorry for the delay once again. What matters though is that it is here now, right?
-Please leave any questions or comments about the page and how I could improve my writing. It has been a while after all. And, of course, please point out any errors I have made.
-To be honest, I do not know what to write about here about the actual page. I want pizza now. Well, see you in one year for the next installment! That was a joke.
That was a joke.
I think not.
I liked it, though. I'm not particularly sure whether I enjoyed the ending or not, but eh.
I saw a couple places where I would insert commas, or italicize stuff, but otherwise it looked good (and I'm also known to overuse commas).
Pretty much what Fund said. Typos and - in just a couple of places - weird word order aside, a very enjoyable read.
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