-Chapter 11-
Leaving
The sudden constriction around her neck shocked her; she twisted around, eyes wide in panic. She met with the burning pits of Soul, her forest eyes soon caught ablaze and the wildfire spread throughout her veins.
A clashing icy flush dropped over her, as she realised who he was and how he had led her, and what he was about to do. The foundations she had built so much on began to drop away like the earthy outcrop she was crouching on.
The Imp shrieked gleefully as he saw the cracks trace around Aelia, the crevices like threads widening quickly, and all Soul had to do was make sure she stayed there.
A soft whimper escaped from Aelia as she saw what was about to happen, what Soul was doing. He was going to kill her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do. The helplessness she felt consumed her, like a tidal wave it swallowed every other emotion and thought that dared enter her mind.
Somewhere in the back of his mind Soul wanted to spite the Imp, to keep control after losing so much. The pure innocence that glistened with tears in front of him, the child-like demeanour showing him how insane he was.
Far off a clap of thunder trembled across the sky, shaking the earth further, the ground loosening. The dead grass roots unable to hold the weight anymore tore audibly. It was his chance to exact vengeance upon the Imp, to regain power over himself, though it had been him who had allowed the darkness to gain a better hold.
The Imp felt the doubt, the unsure heart in his host; and it would not let Soul take charge. The Imp let out a roar from its dark room, fought to the front of Soul's mind and pulled at his reigns. The gnarled, clubbed fingers wrapped tight around Soul's thoughts, clenching their necks - throttling all the life it could from them.
The delirious monster was filled with rage at the strength of these tiny creations of light that held strong in Soul, blinding the beast inside as they fought this battle in their never-ending war.
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Soul roared out a curse with his last breath as he yanked Aelia up from her plummet, her hair fell over her face and all about her as she landed on him; he released a second gust of air as his body thumped against the ground, absorbing some impact.
The Imp would not have it, wresting back control. Souls left hand closed over Aelia's mouth, his other crushed her windpipe, the milky skin beneath bruising. Blood trickled into her mouth from the wound on Soul's hand and from the cuts that slashed along her lips like a fence.
She struck out at him, trying to hit anything she could, but to no avail. Her slim arms could not do enough damage to force his release. Slowly the clouds of black began to swim and thicken in front of her, the earth's rich colours bleaching, desaturated into tones of black and white.
All she could do now was hope, hope that Soul would change his mind.
Her soul WILL be mine! The Imp screeched like a murder of a hundred crows.
You aren't that strong, Imp. I'm still in control you scummy piece of shit. Soul fought back, never having felt a need to before, now he had to or risk losing himself.
Throwing himself off her, he stood back looking at his semi-conscious victim. Her hair swam around her head in the bloodied beige dirt; her eyes half-lidded; her pink-blue lips partially open; her light chest rising slightly.
Shit, thought Soul, Shit. Do I wait for her to wake-up? He mentally scalded himself for following the Imp which was now fuming in some hidden crevice of his head.
"Fucking Goddamn Hellfire!" The string of curses that spilt from his mouth did little to assuage his conflict. He started walking back to the still lifeless village, people are slow here, he mused.
Walking through the back entrance of the creaking tavern, he snuck up into his room to fetch his essentials - chiefly his two swords, which as he entered the room, he noticed immediately were missing.
His stomach plummeted faster than St. Lucifer did when he was cast from heaven, dropping back against the wall he shook his head murmuring "No" repeatedly. Where once they lay now sat a small manila envelope made of high quality, thick paper.
Its body sealed at the back with oily black wax, the death god's emblem pressed into it. Shinigama. Nothing would have stopped the torrent of foul words that flew from his mouth in vexation and ire, the sounds polluting the air.
Leaning forward he snatched the envelope from its careful placement, tearing it open and reading the practiced, regal script that only millennia can achieve:
General S. E. Evans,
I returned after your departure so as to take possession of your two swords.
I am afraid you are unlikely to have these returned any time soon as they pose too great a risk to the success of your nefarious machinations.
I do apologise for the hindrance and aggravation I have indubitably caused.
Sincerely do I hope that you are not to linger; for the girl you nearly killed will undoubtedly be alerting the paupers once she awakes.
Shinigama
Crumpling the note in his fist he stood up and threw it to the side. He roared in frustration. Remembering his state and actions, he scrambled for new clothes and filled a sack with more, stuffing in anything else he thought he might need.
Stepping into the wardrobe he pushed on the smooth mahogany panel in the bottom right corner, feeling a gentle click he released and the door swung forward in silence.
Slipping his hand inside he felt for the two pouches of gold, the small bags clinked as his hand met them; the comforting weight filled his hand as he took them out. He also removed a gladius, the sword he'd found on his first campaign in Africa when they'd rested in some old ruins.
The ivory handle was worn; a wolf's head carved into the end and an XIII was all that the handle now held. The sheath had been filled with excessive animal fat, and the blade still held both its sharp edge and bright shine – having been cleaned and sealed.
It was an amazing find with a gorgeous fit and beautiful balance; it held many a memory. Emptying the safe he sighed, a long drawn out sigh that heralded the beginning of the end for his freedom; that he knew.
He grabbed the brown sack, and fled to the stables, seizing his saddle and hurriedly throwing it over Toride, who snickered in annoyance. Normally Soul took more care but not today, he secured the satchel and grabbed the new riding cloak he'd brought from his room. The heavy black material smelled good – familiar.
Without further pause Soul unlatched the horse, lifted the gate and mounted Toride, jabbing his heels in as he landed. The huge commotion of the heavy horse storming through the village woke many and they were soon to discover the passed-out, half strangled Aelia to the side of the main road.
They rode hard, day and night for the first few days, before being forced to sleep. Half-starved they kept going, the coarse map that Soul remembered of Columbia served him well enough, he knew he was somewhere on the edge of the Guajira desert, and that he'd have to keep going north to reach the states. The only place Soul could think Stein would be would be in Death's City. Shinigama couldn't just give me straightforward locations could he.
The scenery blurred into one long smear of colours as Soul paid less and less attention as he became increasingly exhausted. He'd avoided all the major towns and only every stopped long enough to buy food and water, sleeping rough in a stable with his horse.
Days and weeks passed without trouble, he'd managed to evade Aelia and presumably the village had notified the regime. He was nearing the boarder to Mexico which posed no problem, however getting into the States the increased military presence would call for more caution.
Not only that but his time was starting to run short, having had to pursue longer routes had taken it out of him and he didn't know whether he would make it in time, Toride looked as starved again as he was when they first found that village.
Finding a small cave, Soul let Toride graze outside before building a small fire and getting some sleep, he intended to reach Stein the day after.
The morning broke early, the chill sat lightly in the air, soothing his lungs and numbing his tongue. His hands were white as he pulled himself over, his lethargic legs nearly making him slip off the saddle. He dozed half-waking towards a break in the border, unguarded where a huge tree had fallen onto it.
Carefully walking through, they were in the country, the relative ease at which they had crossed, and the fortune of finding such a crossing pleasantly surprised Soul who now set a course for Nevada. He wasn't wanted in this country and knowing this he was more casual in his journey to his first destination.
A/N Okay guys I'm ending it there, the chapter, not the story don't panic. I am so exhausted from diving you have no clue, and I've barelyhad time to write this, truly I would have rather spent this afternoon sleeping seeing as it's the first substantial break between dives and dinner I've had but hey, you better be grateful. You can probably tell where I started really getting fatigued but w/e. I can only apologise so much. It's friggin great here in Egypt – I'm in a small town on the Red Sea called Dahab but I'll be leaving this coming week sometime, can't remember the dates, BUT once I'm home, defo 2-3k word chapter of my old high quality stuff to make up for the not posting last weekend and the small chapter this weekend.
Cya next week, feel free to message me with ideas or cool sceneries you might imagine. Else I'll do my best.
KH
