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Click.
The noise was almost like talons on flagstone, a noise that reverbirated loudly through the empty corridor. Throughout the empty hall.
Click. Click.
It grew steadily louder. But was the only sound to be heard. Behind her, the archaneon, the blessed of the wind, shifted his tattered wing. Battle had been cruel to him, left the token of his revenge splintered, with feathers torn and sickly, with bones peering out from beneath muscular wingflesh. If it caused him any pain, he did not show it. Archaneon were known for this kind of thing. They would fight until dead, and show no expression ever before that. A Flamberge rested in his hand, stained down its length with new and old blood. The hand on it was pale, no longer cloaked in the black foxfur glove that he always wore, revealing nails as sharp and as deadly as the talons which prowled the floor, invisibly, up ahead.
Click.
Her hands tightened on the shaft of the weapon she had called beloved since she first knew how to think. Her very soul placed into the fine spear, from its merciless killing blade down its powerful shaft to the spearbutt. There was a power in her weapon, a power that would cost her teh very life she breathed. She knew it all too well. And taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, awaiting the horror which would seal her destiny.
Click. Click. Click.
Whatever it was, it was coming at a speed far faster than before. But what could they do? There was only time to wait, only time to reflect. She shivered in rememberance. Of that beautiful body lying in the dimly lit marble hallway. Torn and broken, soul scattered to the winds. She remembered the archaneon, the silent guardians. They had not made any move to stop her, against their master's will. It had been her, and the Archangel. The powerful, beautiful lord. The tyrant. She glanced over her shoulder at the Archaneon, the Blessed. He was deteriorating slowly, now that the Archangel was dead. His eyes, pale blue crystals of ice, gazed sadly at her from beneath hooded lids. He knew his fate. But some willpower inside him had kept him alive. The others had died, rotted, once Clowdenun had fallen with his Flamberge through her heart.
But Folderon was slowly dying too.
She could have wept for her friend. Folderon was the only person whom she could ever relate to, as he knew the pain of falling from the Cloudlands, knew the anger for the Archangel, held the sky and the stars in as much awe as she did. But now he would die. They had a promise. Once Clowdenun was defeated, he would become the Requiem she had no wish to continue being. How could he be so calm about death? Perhaps it was because he was never really real in the first place? He was almost like a human. A perfect, flawless human...
A screech echoed down the dark corridor.
Clamly she opened her eyes again, turned to him. Folderon.
He gazed calmly back, eyes half hidden behind waves of white gold hair. My Requiem he replied.
Take care of yourself. Take care of the kingdom... my dear friend.
She couldn't see his lips for the hair in his face, but his visible eye shone with warmth.
I ask the same of you. Wherever you fare. He dropped to one knee before her. I shall rule the Ten with my dying breath. For as long as I now you are alive, then I know that I shall never be alone, even in the undead sea of souls. You are almost a part of me, my comrade.
Then come. She said softly, resting a gentle hand on his head. Let us face destiny.
He rose slowly, a magnificent being with only one wing, one imperfect wing.
And a howling gale burst the doors of the chamber open.
Before them stood a monsterous hound, a Cerberus. Three dark heads with three gaping jaws, black as midnight, gums as red as fresh blood. And around the center head's neck was a pendant. A pendant that shone with spirit fire, a pendant which held her life.
This was no ordinary Cerberus. It was the last of an ancient, ancient breed. It was milleniums old, it was wise and powerful, it had learned to change to the shape of a man, and it had loved Clowdenun. The souls of the Ten had named him Skhaya in all of his powerful majesty, his elegance, his deeds. Three pairs of glowing red eyes watched her and her companion mercilessly. The middle head parted its slavering jaws and spoke.
You are the beasts which killed my love.
She only nodded. Words were a waste here, there was no reasoning with Skhaya. She understood. They had destroyed the only creature he loved. And she knew the bitter, tearing pain of such a loss.
It was to happen eventually. The leftmost head sighed. But every day I prayed she would not die in my lifetime.
There is no excuse for what she did. The right head growled. She destroyed my beloved, now she too must die as the fire in our heart has died!
Peace. The center head whispered. We are not completely powerless. We have the one thing she loves more than anything in the whole entire world. He raised a terrible paw, the claws encrusted with blood. He pressed it gently to the soul cage at his throat. We hold what she holds higher than anything. We have her very life, her very love, her very soul.
And she was silent, knowing hte power they held over her. They knew it too.
We'll return it to you, if you can defeat me The Cerberus growled. We win either way. We shall die with Clowdenun, or we shall avenge her death.
Folderon started forward, but she put her arm out to stop him.
This isn't your battle. She said softly. I must fight Skhaya alone.
His expression grew sad, but he nodded and stepped back, his wing fluttering uselessly at his side.
If it will give me Lavitz back, then I will fight you, creature. She said softly. The great cerberus laughed, his form glowing, twisting, shrinking until he was man sized, dark skinned and muscular. She growled. The beast had taken on a form that looked very much like her father.
I am Catoblepas! He called out to her, drawing a great two handed broadsword. And if you wish for your life, you will fight me!
I shall. She replied with a nod, spear at her side. Let us begin.