Chapter Twenty-Six
Six
Setrákus is pretty damn hard to beat. I can't find an opening, and it's as if he knows my every move. It's like he can read my mind. I send a jab down his thigh, which he blocks with his cane. He raises it with force, throwing me off-balance a little. He sweeps his cane from under me, and at the last minute I jump to avoid getting hit. "My, my—Pittacus, if you're seeing this, I cannot believe this is your descendant! Such a weak, puny, little girl," Setrákus exclaims, making my insides boil with rage. Even in my short time on Lorien, no one messes with the Elders, let alone their names, unless they want to be buried in Lorien's core. Grams used to scold whenever I make fun of their statues back on Lorien. Resulting in my anger, I successfully manage to punch him in the face. I hear a bone crack, and blood gushes out of Setrákus' now crooked nose. He wipes his nose with the back of his hands, and takes a hit. I block whenever I can, but most of the time it's my dagger that takes his blows. I manage to cut him a few times, a new line of sweat forming on my forehead. Finally, Setrákus gets what he wants.
He strikes a forceful punch, aimed at my chest, throwing me backward. I sit down hard, the air crushed out of my lungs. I'm seeing stars again, but less this time. I sit up, but I barely had time to prop myself up on my elbows before I find a pulsing black eye staring right at me. I shift my gaze from the eye to Setrákus. "From here, I give you two choices; be with us, or against us."
"I'll rather die than fight alongside you, you son of a bitch!" I yell at him. The blue things in my eyes reappear, something they haven't done in a long time. Fear flashes across Setrákus' face for a brief second before something ablaze charged him, clashing against his torso. John the Human Torch tackles Setrákus. Few wails of agony escape his lips as John's white-hot skin creates blisters on his ashen skin. But while John is straddling him, his fingers grope for his cane, which John didn't take notice of. "John, look out!" I yell, warding off two Mogadorians at a time, who attacked me the minute I got up from the ground. But he didn't get out of the way on time. With a swing of the cane, John gets knocked aside, and my anger swells up to boiling point. My vision slightly blurs from the blue hue in my eyes. I swing my knives in a circular motion, reducing the two Mogadorians to ashes. The sky above turns into a great dome of black swirling clouds. I stretch my arms in a spread-eagle gesture, eyes directed to the sky. Lightning strikes, thunder booms. It gets Setrákus' attention, who was about to pound John into a pulp with his cane. John is in his normal mode, thunderstruck at the storm I created.
"Finally—now you show the Elder in you!" Setrákus exclaims some more, raising his cane again. He strikes, the same bluish energy ball coming out of the eye of his cane. "Six!" John yells from the ground, and attempts to slow the energy ball down with telekinesis with no such luck. Lightning strikes in front of the blast of flames and diverts the energy, returning it back to its source. Setrákus ducks at the last second and the ball of blue flames hit the soldiers behind him, creating a loud explosion and a cloud of dirt. I feel my feet leave the ground. The swirling mass of clouds now forms a vortex, the tip dancing on my fingertips. The once calm lake parallel to the dust-coated clearing now surges with waves. I'm levitating about fifteen feet up in the air, leaving the earth shake violently as I went higher. I don't particularly understand it, but suddenly my surroundings reflect the blue color in my vision. More lightning strike, diverting more of the blasts of energy from Setrákus' cane.
I feel invincible, more invincible this way. I can feel the power coursing through my veins, up to the very tips of my being. I lower my hands, and the tornado of my creation sinks to the ground, destroying everything in its wake. Past the commotion, I see John run to Meredith's force field for cover. Tongues of fire erupt from the ground under me, growing to twenty feet, and then twenty-five, completely enveloping me. My powerful side has full control of my brain now. More thunder boom, but the sound of the howling wind has died. The bright orange flames begin to swirl around me in clockwise motion, pretty much like the tornado a few minutes ago, but with fire. I raise my arms again, this time directed to the sky. The faster the flames spun, the hotter they got, since I can feel the heat on my skin. But I didn't disintegrate, and I'm grateful for that.
When I feel that the time is right, that the flames are at their hottest boiling point, I flex my arms, and the flames radiate outward, like an electromagnetic pulse. The center of the radiation is me, and in the sea of bright orange I can make out the vague shape of a dome, meaning Meredith's force field and something else, something enveloped in black, about a few meters from the Loric force field, where Setrákus was standing before. The flames die, and I sink back to the burnt ground. The dust littered the place, making my nose itchy. "Six?" someone yells in the distance, but I don't answer; I don't want ashy Mogadorian guts in my mouth. The layer of dirt in the air is unimaginable; you can't even see the space in front of you. Just a murky grayish brown haze. I summon some wind from nowhere and the ashes steer clear of the real aftermath of the battle. Burnt pieces of machinery and rubble are everywhere. The others are okay, safely tucked away in Meredith's force field a few meters ahead. I pivot to my right, where I saw the black thing from above. It is an orb about twenty-five feet tall, more or less. "Six!" John yells, but I don't move. I have a bad feeling that this war isn't over yet.
The black orb splits in half, wide enough for Setrákus' half burnt body and golden cane to be seen. "You made the wrong choice!" he yells, and the last ball of energy erupts out of the eye. After the blast of energy is released, Setrákus gets enveloped in his black orb, and it disappears, leaving the ball of death directed towards me.
Death is coming; I can feel it. My knees feel like that of a wooden puppet, stiff and cannot move with strings. After the adrenaline in my body passed, I'm left with exhaustion from the war. And so I should accept death, freely. But I can't leave just yet. I haven't said good-bye yet. I can't leave. I have to stay. The death ball is closing on me and a mere foot before it kills me, I feel something push me aside, and everything becomes bright white that I had to close my eyes. The death ball hit something—or someone. The impact made radiation that sent me back on my knees. The light dims, and slowly fades away. I look behind me and my heart stops. A wide range from where I used to stand is a body of a boy with wavy blonde hair, unconscious on a heap of rubble.
"No, no, no, no…" I whisper to myself, hyperventilating. It can't be. I stand up, and pain shoots up my left ankle. I must've broken it when John pushed me out of the way and took my place as the target.
Ignoring the pain, I run as fast as my wobbly legs can carry me to the body of the man I love. I sink to my knees, my breathing heavy, my vision blurry from the upcoming tears, beside John's unmoving body. His eyes are closed, and his chest—it isn't moving. I pull his head on my lap, placing two fingers under his jaw, where his pulse should be. I can't feel anything. I try on his wrist, and still, nothing. I press my ear to his heart, and yet again I hear nothing. "John?" I whisper, shaking him. He doesn't respond. "John! Wake up! Come on, John, wake up!" I yell, tears streaming down my cheeks. He can't be dead. He can't leave me. "Marina! Help me! Anyone, please help me!" I yell even louder, shaking John's body. The sobs make me create choking noises. Before I know it I can't breathe. I can't think. I didn't even hear the others approach us. "Marina, heal him, please," I beg her, clutching John tightly, thinking that he can't go if I hold on. The sobs from behind me confirm everything. I yell despite the irritation of my dry throat, pounding John's chest as if it would bring him back to life. I shake him some more, but his head just kept lulling back and forth. I cry against his chest, my fingers finding his lifeless ones, remembering the warmth they used to have. Why did he have to go? Why did he leave me? It should be me. I can't exist in a world without John. I press my body against John's, not wanting to let go. "Six, he's dead." Crayton says, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. "No! He promised me he wouldn't leave me!" I yell, but I didn't turn around. I rest my head on John's chest as I cry a river, weeping for what seems like forever. When I finally managed to stop crying, which was about ten minutes later, I heard the only thing I want to hear: the sound of a familiar but weak heartbeat.