Chapter 24: The Skies Will Clear
Life is a fragile thing. Weak, yet precious. But death is permanent.
The skies above the Ironspike Mountains had darkened instantly, implying an omen. Lightning flashed, and the clouds shifted from soft white to evil grey, thick and heavy with rain. Every blade of grass swayed to the howling gale, trembling in fear. Heavy branches sagged, as though bowing down to whatever tremendous power that the sky may bring.
Bunnies hopped away frantically. Squirrels and lizards scurried back to their homes. Deer and doe wailed and trotted back into the green. Wildlife scattered not because of the imminent thunderstorm. Something loomed in the area, its presence dark and bringing out fear in every living being. The heavy downpour foretold their appearance.
"Blood will shed here," Lamb spoke first, her dainty fingers fiddling her bowstring. Her other half, Wolf, drifted around her aimlessly, his eyes glowing dimly with boredom. The Kindred were here, and death came with them.
"Whose game, little Lamb?" Wolf rumbled. "Yours or mine?"
"That depends," Lamb spoke, her words a whisper in the wind, inaudible to those who reside outside the plane of oblivion. Lamb, the rational part of the Kindred, had her eyes on the horizon – a large black mass loomed and flew to the skies, its roar reverberating throughout the mountain range. "This one's rather volatile, unstable. I do not know how this one would react to demise,"
"Only one, little Lamb?"
She gave a subtle nod. "Just one,"
"Was hoping for more," Wolf grumbled, his wisps of smoke trembling and shivering with energy. Lamb's counterpart was easily affected by emotions, mainly excitement for hunt, and anger when left hungry for too long. Lamb could only watch her dear Wolf longingly every time he fed whenever someone rejected death, how he fed with eagerness and joy and satisfaction – something that Lamb could never feel. If possible, she would be happy for him. Wolf was most annoying when he was hungry.
"One will have to do for now, dear Wolf," her ears twitched, and Wolf grumbled. "It appears we have company,"
"Deathsinger," Wolf said disdainfully. Karthus appeared immediately before them, in his ceremonial robes and headdress, his sceptre and tome by his either hands. Ominous light glowed from his eye sockets, and he took in the sight of the Kindred.
"Kindred," Karthus sang. "Whose soul have you come to hunt today?"
"That is none of your concern," Lamb spoke sharply. Wolf grunted. "Do not think of yourself as an angel of death, you neither reap souls nor decide who dies,"
"Do you?" Karthus snapped. "You only return souls where they rightfully belong. You have no say about who dies or who lives,"
"What makes you think we can stand as equals?"
"We know who dies today," Karthus grinned. "The difference between us is that I can make death more painful, and you give them a choice to rest peacefully or suffer eternally,"
Lamb could feel Wolf's irritation – he was gnashing his teeth way too often. There had been too many times when Karthus interfered them by reaping the soul they were suppose to collect. Any soul that would be in Karthus' possession would forever be bound to him, to be a slave to his pains and woes just so he could feel none. He had no care for karma – any soul, evil or good, is the same to him. This was against the Kindred's principle - to let them choose the way they would end, and to this Lamb was deeply disgusted.
"That does not make you a deity. You are just a remnant of the cursed Isles," Lamb's fingers stroked the bowstring. If she could shoot Karthus in the head, she would, but she lacked the anger to do so.
"True," Karthus agreed. "But why is it I am the only demon of the Shadow Isles that can see the Kindred?"
Wolf growled. Lamb had no answer to his question.
"We won't let you collect this soul. This one's suffered too much and deserves a choice," Lamb warned.
"This one sinned just as much as all that has been endured. This soul deserves to suffer in the afterlife,"
"You are nothing," Wolf leered.
"Shall we fight for it then?" Karthus waved his sceptre, barely afraid of Wolf's gnashing teeth and burning aura. "A fair competition?"
Lamb chuckled. "You won't win," she said confidently.
Thunder shook the skies. A piercing roar reverberated through the earth. All five of them drew their weapons, standing back-to-back and locating the source of the sound.
Rain started falling.
"Alfie, position!" Jarvan commanded.
"Not in sight, sire," Alfie answered. Shyvana swore she heard his voice shaking, but his hands were steady on his bow and arrow. He scanned the entire sky, looking for a hint of the drake's whereabouts.
The drake roared again, this time it sounded too close to them. They all covered their ears, and out of nowhere the drake emerged, shooting towards the dark clouds and beating his wings furiously.
Even for a drake, he was huge. His crest was sharp like swords, every black scale as hard as armour forged from pure Ionian steel. His spiked tail lashed back and forth as he stopped midair, and glided right above Jarvan and his company, acknowledging their presence. The drake's head was crowned with sharp twisted horns, but also with broken ones, and dried blood can be seen crusted beneath his blinded eye and mauled snout.
"Abomination!" the drake roared, his voice full of anger and spite for the half-dragon. "You dare ally yourself with someone just as lowly as you. Are you so weak that you have to seek help?"
"Does it matter?" Shyvana taunted. "I only have to kill you,"
"You are the reason our brother died," the drake howled. "The blood of yours and your allies will bathe the mountains today!"
As fierce and swift as lightning, the drake folded his wings and plummeted towards them, his horns and claws slicing through the wind with terrifying ferocity.
Alfie nocked an arrow just as quick and released in a flash after drawing his bow. The arrow shot through the air, and just before it could hit the drake's good eye, the drake twisted to the side. The arrow only skidded harmlessly upon his hide.
"Spread out!" Jarvan commanded. Instantly, his men moved out of the way, before the beast rained fire upon the ground. Shyvana breathed balls of flame upon the drake, aiming for his soft belly and neck, hoping to at least scour his flesh.
But all her attacks proved worthless, for the drake was nimble as the wind, dodging and twisting in the air while avoiding her attacks.
Soon, the drake howled and landed upon the singed ground on all fours, the earth trembling as his feet met the ground. Lightning flashed and rain began to pour, heavier and heavier, and Shyvana found it more difficult to light a spark.
"I'll start with this filth!" the drake bellowed and turned towards Lance, who was already in a battle stance with his dual swords held ready. Jarvan held his breath and gritted his teeth, feeling the need to rush forward to shield his soldier in case the drake breathed fire. But they had to act according to their plan. The drake only charged forward, wings unfurled with talons ready to rip Lance to shreds.
With a final spark, Shyvana rushed to the soldier's aid, but soon she came to realize that he needed none of their assistance. As the drake swiped his claws furiously, Lance hopped and twisted and danced, calmly and gracefully evading every one of his attacks. This only irked the drake even more, and he howled with fury, which clouded his judgment and made his movements more sluggish.
Every time he avoided the drake's attacks, he tried to counter by slicing and poking him. But his dual swords proved ineffective against the drake's sturdy scales.
Knowing his ally was tiring out, August stepped in with a battle cry. He lifted his bludgeon high in the air and brought it down upon the drake's talon, just as he was distracted trying to kill Lance. The impact managed to chip a claw, and this drew the drake's attention.
The drake's head whirled around, and his good eye flared when he took notice of August. The soldier smirked, knowing that he got his attention, before holding back his bludgeon and swinging it in a roundhouse, smashing the drake right across the lips.
He watched as his head was thrown back from the impact, and August's terrifying power reopened the drake's wounds on his snout, as blood began dripping upon the mud, hissing as they touched the puddles of rainwater.
The drake staggered, stumbling backwards as he hissed in pain. Jarvan saw the opportunity and jumped in, his lance ready to bring hell upon the earth. The prince roared, and brought down his lance with earth-shattering fury. The blade hummed with hidden energy and embedded itself deep into the ground.
Shards of rock shot upwards in a ring formation around the drake and the prince, evidence of the prince's cataclysmic power. Shyvana rushed forward, her feet pounding against the muddied ground. She hopped and brought forth all her strength, her fist covered in a flame that she conjured with all her might.
The drake saw only the prince who still held the lance that was buried deep in the ground, and failed to notice the half-dragon who was coming for him. He huffed, and fire gathered in his maw, before Shyvana's fist collided with his blinded eye.
The force threw back the drake's head, and the flames that were mustered from his throat exploded and went into the air, missing his target entirely. The prince's heart soared in confidence as he watched broken teeth falling from the drake's maw, and he shouted with all the air in his lungs.
"Alfie!" he commanded, his voice authoritative and fearsome. "Aim for his eye!"
Shyvana nodded in agreement. At that moment, she felt a spark of hope, that they could indeed win this battle without a single casualty. Their teamwork was excellent, and once both the drake's eyes were blinded, and with his sense of smell cut off, they would be able to bring down the drake easily.
They watched as Alfie, who stood far away upon higher ground for a better vantage point, drew an arrow from his quiver and took aim at the stunned target. It only took him seconds to nock, draw and loose, and they watched in anticipation as the arrow flew high.
It flew in an arc, and headed straight for the drake.
It flew, and flew, and flew...
But instead of striking his good eye, it missed by an inch and struck his horn, before dropping to the ground with an ominous clang.
They watched in disbelief. Jarvan's mouth hung open with horror. Shyvana's eyes widened. August and Lance nearly dropped their weapons.
Alfie missed.
"How could he miss?" Shyvana heard August said in shock. "Alfie never missed!"
The drake recovered and shook his head vehemently, then turned his attention to the prince, whose face had turned completely pale before him – Jarvan was totally defenseless.
At that moment, nothing else mattered. She did not notice August roaring the prince's name and rushing to his aid. She did not notice Lance frantically rummaging for something that could help, or Alfie fumbling with his arrows. She neither felt the rain nor heard the lightning. The half-dragon only had her eyes on her nemesis, and the prince, whose life was in grave danger.
Her eyes glowered with red-hot fury, and she transformed, leaping into the fray.
The drake drew his breath, then unleashed a torrent of flames.
Shyvana wrapped her wings around the prince before releasing her flame breath, just before Jarvan summoned his Golden Aegis.
The drake's breath engulfed them both. The prince's shield shattered instantly, throwing golden shards of energy everywhere. Jarvan realized what Shyvana was trying to do, and without thinking twice he quickly threw the golden cloak sewn from her father's hide over her, determined to shield her from the deadly dragonfire.
Due to her bulky dragon form, the cloak only managed to cover her head and her neck, leaving parts of her back and wings exposed. Jarvan could feel the heat surround him, and watched in awe as Shyvana's flame breath countered the drake's breath, reducing its impact. It seared her wings and back nonetheless, but the damage was greatly reduced.
Shyvana howled and fell to the ground, crashing through the rock formation that Jarvan's lance had formed. She recovered from her fall quickly, and bared her fangs at the drake.
The prince quickly ran his eyes over the burnt parts of her body – part of her webbing had turned from blue-grey to light pink, and some of her scales on her back had gone black. "Are you fine, Shyvana?" he asked, concerned.
"I'll be fine once he's dead," she hissed. Her voice in dragon form had always sent chills down his spine.
The drake's eye darted from the prince to Shyvana to the other men. His pupil narrowed to a slit, and they could see how his mind was in a frenzy right now, ready to attack anyone on sight, showing no mercy. August and Lance stayed vigilant, whereas Alfie remained on high ground, nocking an arrow and preparing to shoot.
"I can't believe this," the prince mumbled under his breath, picking up his lance. "Alfie never missed,"
"There's a first time for everything," Shyvana licked her snout. "Now isn't the time to worry about that,"
The drake then lowered his head in a threatened manner, as though he had locked onto a target and was ready to pounce. Shyvana realized that he was in no condition for reasoning, and he would only stop once he had killed all of them.
"We'll have to use the alternative," Jarvan mumbled, and signalled at his men. They saw it, and nodded.
"Be ready!" she warned, just as the drake took to the air and turned towards August.
"I'll pick you off one by one!" the drake roared, and glided towards the soldier.
In all his decades of service as a soldier, August could always distinguish a good soldier from a bad one. To him, referring to Jarvan as a 'good soldier' was a complete understatement.
As an abandoned child from a family that died from small pox, August had travelled from the suburbs to Demacia to join the military, knowing that the only way to live was to live the hard way – swearing his fealty to a country he barely knew, for the sake of a meal and a bed. Demacian military service was known for its hardcore training and merciless regime. But August had suffered since he was young - physical training and extreme drills were no challenge to him. With his badly forged iron mace, August was, however, a force to reckon with, and was known to have mastered most weapons and mission strategems. Easily, he aced all the aspects of the military and immediately earned his first rank after a year and a half.
But the king was ever doubtful. King Jarvan III was a suspicious man, and trusted few people. He did not look highly of August at first, because of where he came from and why he joined the military. So he placed him under the watchful eye of his trusted advisor and friend – his own brother-in-law, Commander Cymund Spiritmight, Queen Catherine's elder brother.
And it all changed when August began training and serving under him.
Two years after he began training at the military, August met the first love of his life, Alice, and immediately after a year, they married and had a child – a beautiful daughter.
Commander Spiritmight was impressed with August, and unlike the king, he knew how much respect August had for him – so much that August had sworn his loyalty to him and Demacia. But the king was ever doubtful.
The commander had a hunch that something was not right with August's wife, that her eyes were always too sharp and looking around, taking in every piece of information she could get, that her ears were always picking up random stranger's conversations, and she was as witty as any other soldier. Cymund had had his suspicions, that this woman was too smart to be a commoner, and he had warned August about it, but he only brushed off his commander's warning, thinking that he was being paranoid.
Until one day August was sent to Noxus with a small group of soldiers on a covert mission. Not long after that, his daughter was found butchered in her home, and Alice was nowhere to be found. They expected the worst for his wife, and Cymund had grimaced at the thought of breaking the news to August once he returned.
Soon, it was learnt that the covert mission had failed, and all of the soldiers that were sent did not return as expected, mostly believed dead.
A week later, August was found at the Grand Gates of Demacia, dragging a bound, haggard woman behind his horse, her face so bruised and beaten that she was beyond recognition, and her feet were bloody and full of blisters, leaving a trail of blood behind her.
When the soldiers saw him, they nearly shot him on sight. August's entire face had been badly disfigured, full of scars and burns that were badly healed. Half of his face was still bandaged, but his eyes were full of determination, and mostly murderous intention. The steed that he rode was obviously stolen, and they noticed how August's favourite weapon – his bludgeon, had been coated completely in blood.
Commander Spiritmight demanded a report from him immediately after his appearance, and August did. His wife turned out to be a Noxian spy, executing an espionage in Demacia with four other men. She had been the one to learn of August's covert mission, and instantly betrayed him to the High Command once she returned to Noxus, not before murdering her own child. August and the other soldiers were captured and tortured, one of the torture methods being immersing their faces into a vat full of unknown chemicals, explaining August's disfigured face. All of them died after two days being tortured, but August endured, and refused to break any secrets to the Noxians, knowing they would still kill him after he divulge Demacia's royal secrets.
August waited for his chance, and broke out of his cell. He captured his wife as well. In a desperate attempt, she tried to provoke him by telling him that she killed their daughter, hoping that he would be sad enough to make a mistake - an opportunity for her to counter-attack. What she did not know was that she was the one who made a terrible mistake.
August, enraged, then threw a fit and began beating her. He forced secrets out of her, pulling out her nails forcefully and knocking out all her teeth. He tied her to his horse and dragged her on for days, not letting her sleep or rest, and even purposely kicking his horse's rear to speed up. Soon she broke. Thinking that he might still show her mercy due to his love for her, she told him all about herself, about the espionage and the identity of four other spies who were currently executing their missions in Demacia.
But August loved his daughter more, and carried on dragging her behind his horse.
Once the king learnt of the news, he commanded the other four spies to be captured. It was then he changed his view on August's loyalty, that this man would never break under any condition. But his cruelty disgusted the king, and so he punished and rewarded him by placing him in the Elite Guard, but his only wage would be three meals a day and a roof over his head. August would never earn half as much as other soldiers, not allowed to leave Demacia unless dispatched on missions or tasks, and he must serve under the Elite Guard until the day he dies.
August agreed, and he watched as his wife and four other spies were hanged in public the next day. The prince was there, and August had seen the royal prince studying him pitifully.
What he did not expect was Jarvan IV had walked over and patted him on his shoulder. A young boy, who was at least ten to twenty years younger than him, offered him sympathy and company at a tavern unlike other soldiers who sneered at the sight of him. While other people's stares were cold, the prince's eyes were always warm, and caring.
It was then he swore that he would, indeed, remain celibate and serve the royal family, until the day he dies. Which was why he willingly followed the prince who exiled himself just because he was unable to forgive himself.
He remembered the day Jarvan personally asked him to take part in his company. My prince, everything I do is for your safety and future. I would willingly follow you in battle, and dying by your side is my greatest honor, he had sworn to him.
And now, he held his beloved weapon with both his hands, facing a creature he had never faced before. But August was fearless, because he had nothing to lose.
The drake opened his jaw wide, trying to snap August's neck between his fangs. Without hesitating, the soldier waited for the right moment, and swung with all his might. The bludgeon hit its mark, smashing a few fangs out of the drake's mouth, but the beast was relentless, charging in for another assault.
August had diverted the drake's attention from everyone, and he wished that the plan they had devised could be carried out without a mistake. Whatever it was, he had done his part – he had angered the beast successfully, and he knew the drake was out for his blood.
"August!" Lance screamed, rushing for him.
"No!" he roared, and Lance stopped dead in his tracks. "Just do it!"
The drake swiped his claws, and August, who was slightly distracted, could only try to parry the drake's crushing blow. The impact still hit him fully, however, and the soldier was sent flying before crashing to the ground.
August cursed, and spat a bloody glob upon the ground. The drake still had his eye fixed on him, and he was taunting the soldier.
"Your fearlessness is formidable," the drake hissed. "But still you're just a human,"
"Huh," August snorted. He was drenched from head to toe, and he did not notice bleeding wound on his forehead. Blood began washing down his cheeks, running down his scarred face and dripping off his jaw. His thick fingers clenched around his bludgeon, his hatred boiling. "Believe me, I could crush your skull right here and then. You are nothing but a worm to me,"
"Pomposity will be your downfall!"
August flaunted his bludgeon before the drake. "Then show me what you can do, because all I see right now is a useless raptor flopping around, being beaten up by an old man with a stick!"
That successfully wounded his pride. The drake then bellowed in rage, drew in air and released a jet of dragonfire towards August.
August smirked. A few yards behind the drake, Lance noticed the signal and started chanting while making gestures with his hands.
August could only hope that Lance's skill on destruction magic had not gone rusty due to years of disuse.
But he knew that it worked, because before the dragon's breath could reach him, the area around the drake heated up in an incredible speed, before triggering an explosion upon the spot that the drake stood on.
"August, get back!" Lance screamed. August swore he saw his lips moving, but all his words were drowned by the rumbling sound of the earth falling apart and the drake's terrified scream. Dust and debris began to fill the air, clouding his vision. August did not think twice, he turned back and sprinted, feeling the ground breaking and falling beneath him.
Lance had been right – beneath the Ironspike was a large cave-like system that would reach into the core of the planet. August had always believed him to be witty and cunning, but now he had a whole new reason to respect his comrade.
But for now, he focused on running, and prayed that the prince was far away enough from the mayhem.
"Lamb," Wolf called out, a sense of urgency evident in his voice. "It has begun, the drake has fallen,"
"The hunt begins," Lamb fiddled with her bow. "Though the death of this one would be rather... depressing,"
"Like a long hunt with no kill?"
"To sacrifice oneself just so the other could live," Lamb lamented. "I only hope this one would choose the right path,"
"Will this one whine?" Wolf asked, excited. "Will Wolf get to hunt, eat and kill? I'm so, so hungry, little Lamb,"
"We will see. But first, we must beat the Deathsinger,"
"Lance was right," Shyvana mumbled in awe, watching from a safe distance as the ground shattered and fell beneath the drake's feet. The drake screamed and scrambled for a hold, but his claws only managed to grab onto crumbling rocks, and soon he fell into an abyss, his roar an echo lost within the chaos.
"August," Jarvan muttered. "Where's August?"
Shyvana, already reverted back to her human form pointed towards the soldier, who was running towards them. Behind them, the ground kept falling apart, and it seemed as though it wouldn't stop.
"I think Lance overdid it," Alfie commented.
August was about to reach them, and Jarvan was going to make a run to a safer spot once August caught up with them, until he noticed the soldier's eyes widening in alarm and turning back.
He stopped, and looked around frantically.
"Hey fuck-face!" Shyvana shouted, obviously impatient. "Hurry up!"
"Lance!" August yelled, his voice barely audible above the impending chaos, but it was enough for Jarvan to be alarmed. "Lance needs help!"
Alfie nudged the prince and pointed far north, where one of Lance's foot was caught under a fallen rock, pinning him to the ground entirely. Behind him, the crevice expanded, and was catching up on him.
"Jarvan, there's no time!" Shyvana warned.
"Lance," the prince clenched his fists, his feet struggling in a dilemma to escape or to run towards his men to help them. "This is too much, I have to –,"
"There's no time!"
"I can't let another man die under my watch!" he shouted.
"Jarvan, be rational. If you go you'll get everyone killed in no time!"
"That's not what you said when we saved the Marai,"
"It's different now!"
"Lance!" August screamed, and ran towards Lance, not giving a damn about the quake around him. This only worsened the prince's anxiety, and Jarvan swore that he had never felt so indecisive in his life.
"Oh fuck it," Jarvan threw all rational thoughts aside, and ran towards August and Lance.
"Jarvan!" Shyvana howled, frustrated with the prince, and instantly transformed into her dragon form. Her plan had been to whisk Jarvan and August away before they could run to their own death, and possibly try to save Lance if she could, but that was before the ground beneath them began to shake as well, and hell soon broke loose.
Shyvana turned back to tell Alfie to run, before realizing that the archer was far too close to them to escape.
The earth beneath the prince came loose, and before they were aware of it, they fell.
Dust and debris filled the air, and Shyvana could barely see as she felt the soil and wind forcing her down into the abyss. Her injured wings had made it difficult to fly, and added with her clouded vision, she could only whine helplessly as she was sucked into the darkness.
Before she fell unconscious, she felt the warmth of a familiar magic. The Golden Aegis, she thought, and soon the darkness consumed her.
When Shyvana woke, she panicked when she saw only darkness around her. Was I dead? She had thought so, until she felt a trickle of water upon her head, and her palms were pressed against cold, hard stone.
They had fallen deep into the cave system that was beneath the Ironspike Mountains, just as Lance had guessed. And somehow Jarvan's Golden Aegis had saved them from being shattered to a pile of bloody mess.
Shyvana slowly sat up, feeling her back pop slightly. She wanted to shout to see if anyone else was around her, until she heard the familiar grumble of a drake, not close enough to her, but not far away either.
Her heart skipped a beat. He's not dead, she lamented.
Her eyes glowed like two pieces of amber, and she could see her surroundings clearly. The cave was large, and she could barely see the top, which meant either the debris and crumbled earth had covered the crevice completely, or they were so far deep into the heart of the mountain that the top couldn't be seen. Either possibilities were equally terrifying to her.
She soon found August, only him, resting against a boulder. He groaned slightly. Shyvana quickly and quietly walked over to him, then clasped her hand over his mouth, muffling his moans.
August jolted awake, his eyes as wide as saucers. She knew he saw her, and ushered him to keep quiet before he continued with his ruckus.
"The drake is not dead," the half-dragon whispered. August exhaled, and forcefully pushed her hand away.
"The prince? Others?" he asked in a low tone.
"I don't see them," the half-dragon shook her head. "I just woke up,"
Suddenly, a loud roar filled the cave, its echo ringing in their ears. August began fidgeting with his bludgeon.
"We have to find them quickly," August warned. Shyvana agreed, noticing how grim the situation was.
"Did you save Lance?" she asked.
"I don't know, I grabbed hold of his hand, I was sure of it. After that we were falling. How we survived is still a mystery to me,"
Shyvana began leading the way. "The prince used his Golden Aegis on us. His shield took the brunt of the fall. I guess the impact knocked us out,"
"Hopefully," August sighed. "Or the prince's shield could have failed to protect him, he had fallen first. He may not have survived,"
"That would be too bad," Shyvana sneered. "Considering how you risked everyone's lives just to save the life of one man,"
August grabbed her shoulders and whirled her backwards. The half-dragon's gaze darkened, and glared straight into his hateful eyes.
"Watch your mouth, beast," August spat. "You dragged us all into this mess in the first place. And Lance's life is worth more than yours,"
"Perhaps. I'm just a lowly commoner. A half-breed, to be exact. And Lance is a soldier, a brave one. But is his life worth more than Jarvan's that you are willing to trade the royal prince for a soldier?"
"You should have stopped him from approaching us," August protested. "And let us die,"
"Jarvan is not mine to control. I can't tell him what to do,"
"Whatever," August gave up with a snort. "Bickering won't do us any good. It fucking happened anyway,"
The half-dragon said nothing. She was tired of arguing all the time as well.
"This time, if anything were about to happen to us," August stroked his bludgeon, not looking Shyvana in the eyes. "Grab the prince and get the fuck out of here,"
Shyvana remained silent, and listened.
"As much as I hate you, you and I both want the same thing for the prince – to get him home, alive and well," he then stared at her, but the hatred and disgust disappeared from his eyes. "You can still fly, can't you?"
"Don't underestimate me," Shyvana snorted.
"And don't overestimate yourself," he snapped. "If you can get him out, do it. Let us do the honors,"
The half-dragon silently agreed, then turned back and led the way.
The drake hissed, growled, and snapped his teeth in frustration. He had never felt more humiliated - bested by a handful of humans that he could have crushed with his claws. But here he was, broken and beaten with wounds and blood dripping from reopened scars.
He remembered a brief explosion, and the earth had given way beneath his feet. He had used his last strength to widen the crevice, by clawing and holding onto loose soil, so the half-breed and the humans would fall with him. The drake then came to his senses after feeling pain all over his body, and somehow he knew that he had failed to kill them.
He sniffed the air, and he began picking up a scent. Humans, he growled.
And so he followed the scent, and wandered around the cave with his heightened senses. He could smell blood, fresh human blood, and the drake had a sudden craving, drool dripping from his mutilated snout.
He turned a corner, and grinned when he saw him. The one with the golden armour, with a cloak sewn with the golden hide of a Celestial dragon. It was the same cloak that saved him from being roasted alive. He soon realized that the hide belonged to Aurus Signum, the half-breed's father, and he recoiled in disgust. Anger and hatred boiled within him, and he could not stand the sight of his brother being carved and displayed as a trophy to be worn by the humans.
The drake grumbled, and he noticed the human flinching. He held his lance tighter than usual, and slowly turned to him.
The drake bared his fangs, and grinned when he saw fear in his eyes.
"You are right to be afraid,"
"Little Lamb, is he the one? The one with the golden cloak?"
"He's the one,"
"Is it time yet?"
"No," Lamb stroke Wolf's ethereal form, dark wisps of energy slipping through her cold, white fingers. "Not yet. Watch for now, dear Wolf,"
At first, Lance could see nothing but darkness, until he heard a draconic grumble and decided to follow the source of the sound, groping around as he was very much blinded. Soon, he found a speck of light, and followed it.
The light turned out to be the drake's good eye, that was still glowing bright, and the fires that swirled within his mouth and throat.
When Lance saw the drake hounding on the man in the golden armour, he instantly drew his dual swords. The prince, holding onto his lance tightly, trembled slightly as he found out the drake was right behind him all along. Lance dragged his wounded leg along, still feeling the concussion ringing in the back of his head.
"You are right to be afraid," the drake had leered, showing off his mouth that were full of broken fangs, but still horrifying to be looked at.
"Get away from him, beast!" Lance spat, trying to get his attention. He raised his sword and pointed it at the drake. "I'll blow you up for good this time!"
"And risk murdering all your comrades?" the drake turned away to glare at Lance. The soldier flinched, taking in the sight of the drake whose head was full of half-healed scars – his maw and lip was badly cut and wounded, rows of broken fangs decorated his mouth, and his one blind eye was nothing but an empty socket, with dried blood that caked between his shedding scales. It was an ugly sight to behold at a close distance, and Lance found himself frozen on the spot.
"I've seen how important this man is to all of you," the drake hissed. "Do not take me for a fool, human. Your species is not half as intelligent as mine,"
Just after he said that, the drake lashed out, trying to strike the prince. Lance rushed forward as far as his injured leg could carry him, just as the prince backstepped before his claws could reach him, leaving a dent upon the stone floor where the prince had been.
The soldier struck, swinging his swords upon the drake's tail. But the drake was more vigilant, aware of the soldier behind him, and lashed his tail, striking Lance right in the ribs. The blow knocked the air out of Lance's lungs, and he dropped to his feet, clutching his side.
The drake turned his attention to the prince, beating his wings to throw him off balance. With every strike the drake unleashed upon the man in golden cloak, he parried and countered with his lance. Until one particular blow proved too powerful to be blocked by his lance alone, and he was brought down to his knees, his forearms trembling as he held his lance against the dragon's claws.
Lance tried to stand, but his side was badly wounded, and he could already feel a large bruise forming. He watched helplessly as the drake gathered flames in the back of his throat, ready to burn the prince to crisp...
And out of nowhere, the half-dragon emerged, her fists flaming like a burning comet. With strength and ferocity she brought it down upon the drake's skull. The impact was devastating. The drake hissed and reared back in pain, the flames in his mouth briefly extinguished.
August appeared as well, howling a battle roar and charging towards the beast with his weapon raised. He swung his bludgeon, and it bashed the drake across the cheek. But this only enraged the drake further, and the beast slapped its wings against the cavern floors, calling forth strong gusts of wind to throw them off their feet.
August was thrown off, and Shyvana teetered slightly. It was the worst moment to make such a mistake, and the drake saw his opportunity.
He brought his claws down on August, and clamped him against the cold, hard floor. August, gritting his teeth, brought up his bludgeon and blocked him, struggling with every last ounce of strength that he could muster against the dragon's fury.
The drake's mangled snout drew near, his hateful gaze glaring deep into August's soul. From the tips of his mouth, the soldier could see liquid fire dripping down his teeth, hissing as drops of it touched the cavern grounds.
The dragon prepared to breathe fire, to deal the fatal blow.
"Shyvana!" August howled. "Shyvana, get him out of here!"
But the half-dragon's eyes widened, her jaw was loose and a look of horror appeared upon her face.
Lance dragged himself closer, to see what had the half-dragon so spooked. What he could not understand was how oddly the prince had behaved, how often he had fidgeted with the lance, and how he had not bothered to summon the Golden Aegis when the drake rained blows after blows on him.
Something's not right, Lance concluded.
It almost seemed as though...
… the lance did not belong in his hands.
A loud voice echoed through the cavern, a voice that belonged to the one they all vowed to protect, but it came from the wrong side of the cave. "Alfie!" he screamed, and all eyes turned towards the man in simple breeches and tunic, the one who looked very much like the prince of Demacia.
And suddenly, Lance understood, but it was too late.
The man in the golden armour rushed forward, throwing the golden cloak over August.
At that moment, the drake released hell from his jaws.
Ever since they had begun the hike upon the Ironspike Mountains, he had felt queasy. Like something was stalking him, watching him, studying his every move. He started feeling an eerie presence quietly breathing down his spine, but every time he turned back, there was no one to be found.
He could barely focus, and it was taking a toll on him and his comrades. At first he thought it was just a figment of his imagination, until the rain started falling. When he was scouting, he noticed something watching him.
Based on a hunch, his eyes shot towards a tree, and his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.
A being, covered in snow white fur, perched upon a branch. It wore a mask of pure darkness, with two holes for eyes that glowed with a haunting blue hue.
He let out a silent scream and fell on his rump. When he blinked, the creature was gone.
It only got worse when the drake appeared, and he stood on the high ground to provide support if necessary. They immobilized the drake, just as initially planned, and he was given a clear shot of the drake's eyes. It should have been easy – he had sniped targets that were further and smaller, he couldn't have made a mistake.
Until he saw all his comrades wearing the same mask that the creature wore earlier, and his fingers trembled upon his bow. He felt the chill of death on his back, and two voices, one gentle and one harsh, one like the sound of a songbird and the other cruel as the crack of a whip, whispered in his ears:
"Your time is near –,"
"Will you run fast –,"
"- but the choice is yours,"
"- or will you cower and shiver?"
In harmony, both voices spoke : "Choose wisely, and we will answer your wishes,"
With that, they vanished, and he released the arrow. To his resentment, it flew past the drake's eye, missing by an inch.
Then it came the moment when they fell with the drake, and he had woken first before the prince. Jarvan laid on his back, his arm badly bruised but nothing serious. He immediately did what he could to ease his pain, being careful as the prince moaned in pain. He watched as the prince continued to sleep, and the voice whispered again, but this time it belonged to a different entity:
"There's no greater ecstasy than suffering. There's no greater pleasure than pain,
Do not heed the words of the lying twin,
Listen to mine instead, and bear witness to the glory of demise,
And I promise you, I will set you free,"
He shivered uncontrollably, and shook his head vehemently. He tried to convince himself that he was indeed going mad from the stress and pressure, but a little voice in the back of his mind told him otherwise, that the voices spoke true.
He glanced at the prince – Jarvan, who laid helpless and in pain. And he thought, better me than him.
And so he stripped the prince of his golden armour and cloak, donned it and equipped himself with his lance.
Somehow he knew he was going to die.
"Alfie!"
And so when he saw August clamped to the ground, and was about to be burnt to ashes by the drake, he acted on impulse. He barely knew what the cloak could do, but he acted on instincts, and threw it over August. Just as the flames were let loose.
He closed his eyes, anticipating the heat that would wash over him and melt him in an instant. But it never came.
He opened his eyes, and he was greeted with an odd sight – all things had frozen still, the flames were static in mid-air, and everyone stopped moving, as though time had stopped.
"I'm glad we came to you first,"
He looked to his left, and saw the white creature from earlier, this time wielding an enchanting white bow, with glowing carvings that was mesmerizing to behold. Its curves were alluring, and the dainty fingers that fiddled with the taut bowstring released soft notes of rhythm in the air - sounds that only he could hear.
"That's a beautiful bow," he found himself saying. He couldn't help it.
"You can't flatter death," the cold and cruel voice spoke behind him, and when he turned back, he saw a creature, the exact opposite of the white being. It bore a white mask, over a head that resembled a wolf, with a snout and a complete set of fangs. But it had no body, and its form flowed like smoke behind him.
He shuddered and stepped back. "You are... you came to collect my soul?"
"To many we are Ani and Ina..."
"... Farya and Wolyo," the black entity floated around.
"But to all, we are the Kindred," they spoke together.
"Your time is up, Alfie. Which way do you choose to go?" the white creature asked.
"I was told," he said, his voice trembling with fear. "That you are the lying twin. How do I know if you're not here to hurt me?" he repeated what he had heard earlier, and stepped away from the Kindred.
"That is up to you," the white creature said. "But that is no deity, only the remnants of a dead legend. His presence itself defies the law of nature. Will you, a man who keeps honor as his code, follow the path that deviates from all things right?"
"What is right, and what is wrong?" he found himself asking, and he was surprised by the boldness in his voice. "All my life, I had obeyed, because I had no choice. Everything I did is for my own benefit, to ensure the survival of my family and not because I love the prince as fervently as everyone. I wanted to live,"
The black entity chuckled. "Yet you threw yourself in, like a fool, fool, fool,"
"Because I do not deserve to live," he admitted. "I could not accept death before this, when my sister laid bedridden, her face pale as a dead man's. But now I will. It is one way to repay my debts to the prince, and to my fellow comrades, who loved him more than I do,"
"What are your wishes then?"
Alfie inhaled sharply. "That I accept death,"
August watched everything happen, and the cloak managed to protect him completely from being swallowed by the sea of flames, and by the time he threw the cloak aside, the man in the golden armour was completely burnt to the point his skin had turned charcoal black.
"Alfie," he held him, his voice hoarse and bitter. His hands were trembling as he held whatever that was remained of his head in his lap, afraid that if he pressed too hard his skin and bones would crumble to ashes. The armour that was once golden had melted and fused with parts of his flesh, and August saw how his eyes had boiled and melted, the blackened sockets holding two pools of white, cloudy fluid, mingled with traces of blood. His lips and nose were completely gone, and the stench was horrible. But August did not care about those. "Lad, speak to me –"
He failed to notice a gleaming arrow stuck deep in his chest. It sizzled, and winked out of existence before anyone could see it.
Alfie released his last breath with a sigh, and it was then August knew he was truly gone.
The lad from the Demacian scouts, the young boy full of hope, the talented yet humble soldier that he wanted to place in the Elite Guard to prove his worth – Alfie, was gone.
When Shyvana saw what happened, she felt rage boil within her. Jarvan, the true prince of Demacia, looked horrified, and he could barely digest what happened.
"Enough!" she roared, and the drake turned to her, an amused expression upon his face. "Enough of this bloodshed!"
"If you've surrendered yourself earlier, none of this would have happened,"
"If you've accepted me!" she howled in rage and resentment, letting out all her bitter emotions verbally at the drake. "If only the dragonkin would accept their own child, borne of a Celestial Dragon that you so highly respected, my father wouldn't have died! And you wouldn't have been in such sorry state!"
The drake slammed his claws against the floor. "And it's all because of you!"
"You dragons call yourself civilized and intelligent folk," she hissed, her eyes glowing brighter and brighter. "All I see are savages, mindless beasts that are only keen of murdering those lowlier than you. That boy you murdered," she pointed a finger at Alfie's body. "He has a heart more noble than any ten of your kin combined!"
"You speak like a savage yourself, half-dragon," the drake snapped. "Are you so foolish to think that harmony can exist between the dragons and the other races? That we won't fight and bite each other to death? There is an order to this world, and even if you don't know it, the weak ones will always be slaves. Do you see why it's important for one kin to be the superior to the others? That the dragons rule above all else?"
Shyvana clenched her fists.
"Just so our kind survive," the drake spat. "Just so, by the name of our Father, Aard Synvael, we may live and be free of harm from other races, including abstaining our blood from being tainted with the blood of the other lowly races,"
"Your existence is a plague to us all," the drake raised his chin at the half-dragon. "You're neither dragon nor human, neither race will accept you. If the dragons adopt you, the humans will find a way to use you as a leverage, and threaten to topple our empire. The humans will not recognize you as one of them, because who knows one day you would go berserk and murder them all?"
Shyvana's anger continued to burn. She clenched her jaw, looking for words to argue, but found none, because deep inside she knew his words rang truth.
"She won't betray us," Shyvana turned towards the prince, and miraculously her anger subsided. "Her loyalty is greater than that of a human, and her strength surpasses a dragon's. That's what makes her so special,"
The dragon threw back his head and laughed. "You delude yourself, human!"
"Perhaps," the prince strode towards Alfie, and with a tug he freed his lance from the dead soldier's clutches, picking up the golden cloak and flung it over his shoulders. "But underestimating me will be your last mistake,"
Without hesitation, he threw forth a Demacian standard, and Shyvana watched with awe as it plunged deep into the ground just a few feet away from the drake. He then pushed his lance forward, and it extended until it hooked onto the shaft of the standard and dragged the prince towards the drake. All these was done in the span of a few seconds.
The half-dragon wasted no time as well, feeling her strength surge through her bloodstream. In an instant she transformed into a dragon, her wings unfurled and jaw wide open with a deafening roar, flames pouring from all over her body and illuminating the entire cavern. She leapt towards the drake, talons held out for his throat.
Jarvan used the power of his lance and summoned another cataclysm – entrapping himself, Shyvana and the drake in an arena within the cave. The drake had no way of getting out, and Lance and August couldn't risk themselves trying to save the prince.
The half-dragon grabbed onto the drake's throat, and fire spewed everywhere. The prince tried his best to hide from the flames, shielding himself with the cloak. The drake snarled and screeched, engaging the half-dragon and fighting her teeth to teeth, claw to claw. They both looked like two fearsome beasts trying to tear each other apart, locked in an extreme battle to the death.
Jarvan desperately looked for an opportunity to aid the half-dragon, but it was futile.
"If you value your kin so much," Shyvana snarled resentfully, clawing the drake right across the throat. "Why did you kill my father so brutally?!"
The injury only infuriated the drake, his hot blood hissing as it dripped onto the cold cavern grounds. With a cry he swiped across Shyvana's snout, knocking her backwards. "He had sinned! And he must be punished!"
"For laying with a human?" Shyvana growled, oblivious to the wounds inflicted to her snout and throat. "For choosing a human over your kind?!"
"You won't understand!"
Angered, the half-dragon breathed fire upon the drake. The drake howled and grunted, withstanding the heat with his hard scales, but the flames still managed to shed his scales and scorch the soft skin near his torso. "Then, I'll kill each and every one of you," the half-dragon threatened. "I'll make sure your kind is completely extinguished, until you all rue the day you ever crossed me,"
The drake gritted his broken fangs, and prepared to muster flames in his maw.
"Shyvana!" Jarvan yelled. The half-dragon looked at the prince, who held his lance like he was about to toss a javelin. She understood immediately, and tried to fly out of the way.
But the drake realized as well, and swiftly he locked his jaw around the half-dragon's neck, his fangs not sharp enough to snap her throat but enough to make her bleed. He had her in a deadlock, and maneuvered the half-dragon to position her in between the prince and him.
The prince hesitated.
"Just throw it!" Shyvana screamed.
In his mind, the prince crossed his fingers and toe, said his prayers, and with every ounce of his strength, he aimed and threw the lance.
Shyvana jerked violently, but the drake held her fast. The lance shot through the air, and penetrated one of her wings. The half-dragon screamed –
Just as the lance lodged itself in the drake's uncovered chest, where the scales had been removed by Shyvana's fire.
It was a superficial wound, but enough to make him release the half-dragon, who instantly reverted back to her human form, and Jarvan thought she had never looked so haggard – the scars on her cheek were bleeding, her arm was badly wounded and there were bite marks on her neck. The drake reared back and released a cry of pain, his claws reaching for the lance and pulling it out with a frenzied roar. Blood spilled onto the ground.
"Vermin!" the drake tossed the lance aside, his eye was bloodshot and crazed, and he had his gaze locked onto the prince. Jarvan felt panic overwhelming him, and he was suddenly frozen on the spot, unable to move.
The drake raised his claws for the kill. But suddenly, he grunted, and shuddered uncontrollably.
The prince looked away from his terrifying claws which was held aloft in the air, and saw the half-dragon, who had her arm plunged deep into the drake's chest. Her lips were pale, the pain obviously excruciating, but she managed to crawl over while the drake's attention was on Jarvan, and struck him through his weak spot.
The drake moaned, suddenly staggering as though his legs could not support him.
With a cry, Shyvana pulled back her arm with all her strength. Jarvan watched as her arm, covered in blood, was pulled out from the drake's chest, and in her gauntlet she held an organ – the drake's heart, still pulsating and connected by arteries.
"Remember who killed you," Shyvana muttered. "As you return to the Celestials, just as the dragons believed, remember my name – Shyvana. No one will build a pyre for you, murderer,"
With that, she focused all her flames onto his heart, watching as it was burnt into ashes. The drake's eye dimmed, and soon he toppled over and demolished the rock formation that Jarvan had forcefully formed earlier.
The silence that followed after was thick.
Just as life had vanished from the drake's body, so did Shyvana's hatred and thirst for vengeance. She sighed, feeling a huge weight being lifted off her shoulders. The drake's body fell, and accidentally crashed into the cavern's low ceilings. Rocks and loose soil crumbled, forming a small hole upon the ceiling which only a dog could fit through.
The prince and the half-dragon watched as light streamed through the hole, briefly brightening the dark, cold cave. The heavy downpour from earlier was gone, and Shyvana could tell that the sun was already out, no longer concealed by clouds.
"Shyvana," the prince spoke her name reverently, and she could feel concern in his voice. Again she sighed, relieved with the realization that she no longer had to run for her life.
Looking through the hole, she stared deeply. It suddenly reminded her of her father, and the conversation they once had.
"Shyvana," Jarvan called again after a long time. "Are you fine?" She must have looked dazed to the prince, that it sparked his concern for her.
With a genuine smile, she turned towards the prince. "I'm fine. I just realized something, looking at the weather. My father was right after all,"
Jarvan stared at her with knitted eyebrows, puzzled at what she was implying.
"It was true," she smiled, studying the blue sky filled with fluff, white clouds. "The skies will clear, after all,"