A/N: Written for Raphiael.
Pelleas clung to his spell book like a mast in a storm. His vertigo went beyond the dizziness he'd felt while addressing his troops. For a moment, he'd been yanked out of his body and into the pulsating mass he'd summoned. He'd almost forgotten to return to himself before the magic disappeared under the earth.
The shuddering breath he took in tasted of dust. The spirit inside him let out a cackle. It echoed in his empty chest.
He didn't realize he'd walked forward until he felt something roll under his boot. His heel slid against the slick tile when he lurched backward. Swallowing, he forced himself to look down.
Lekain laid in a crumpled heap on the floor. His jaw hung open in shock, and a patch of blood stained his bishop's robes. As the magic that had swallowed him didn't leave the carnage an axe might have, Lekain still looked whole, as if he could stand and brush his clothes off with an amused tut tut.
Pelleas shook his head firmly. Lekain would never taunt him again. He himself had felt the magic clench around Lekain's innards, breaking his bones like glass as it extracted his soul. Pelleas's palms tingled. He could almost feel his hands crushing Lekain's ribs. He closed and opened them, remembering how often he'd been told they were useless. His satisfaction that they weren't was brief. They may have looked clean, but there was blood on them all the same.
The spirit reached up him with long fingers, stroking and enticing him. Cold dread spread down his chest. Through the pounding in his ears, he heard footsteps approach.
He turned at the sound of his name. Through his blurred vision, Micaiah's face came into focus. Sothe followed in her shadow. The sight of them reminded Pelleas of their mission.
He knelt and shuffled through Lekain's robes. He felt sticky fabric before finding parchment. Fighting nausea, he extracted the blood pact with the barest tips of two fingers, then gripped it tightly before handing it to Micaiah. "Will you do the honors?"
Micaiah tore it in half with apparent relish. Light trailed from her fingertips before consuming the parchment, making the spirit inside Pelleas recoil. He smiled.
The others rushed over to watch. Despite their long acquaintance, Pelleas had never made eye contact with many of them. He took a moment now to study each face. Tauroneo's looked as sturdy as his build suggested, etched with deep lines that relief had smoothed. Huddled nearby, Micaiah's companions beamed at her, some—like the sword user—more openly, some with quiet reserve. While Pelleas was admiring Jill's ability to hold her chin high, she dismounted from her wyvern to give Lekain a swift kick. Chuckles filled the air. Pelleas felt himself unwind.
He'd thank each one of them when this was over. For now, they still had a goal to accomplish. Their mission was beyond any mortal's power, but Pelleas had no doubt they'd succeed.
Micaiah rallied everyone to continue. As Pelleas moved to join them, a sharp tug from behind made him freeze. Something clawed at his back, a force from the ground that called out to his spirit. He struggled not to sink to his knees when the spirit responded, twisting inside him, dragging him backward, pulling him down…
"My liege?"
Tauroneo stood beside him, looking at him with concern. A film of sweat clung to Pelleas's face. He shook his head. "I'm fine."
Tauroneo nodded and left. Pelleas followed, his legs pulling free with each step. The flight of stairs they came to twisted upward for what seemed like an eternity. One set of feet started up them, then two, and soon dozens of them lifted away from the earth to climb up toward the heavens. Breathing deeply, Pelleas joined them.