I Will Defy

by Rook837

"You're just another Ionian coward, too weak to stand on you own, but too proud to bow down. I can see it, plain as day, and now... everyone else can too." (Rated M for Intense Violence and Dark Content. Nothing Explicit)

28. Chapter 28

Author's Note: A whooping 18k words for the finale. So much effort went into this whole venture, and I'd like to thank you all for sticking for the ride. Hopefully it isn't over yet and you'll be seeing more of me one way or another. The extra notes at the end might not happen just because I'm exhausted after writing this chapter in particular and literal blood, sweat, and tears were shed in the process. A lot of things went against me, but this is a story that needed to be told. Aria deserves that much. If there's a lot of hype or interest in me adding an extra little chapter thingy with notes about the book, process making it, my thoughts on things (from making the book, deciding the beginning/middle/end/etc.) then I'll be happy to oblige, but I got no pms about questions or anything and I'm really, really tired so it won't be out for awhile if at all.

Thank you all so much for reading. My only hope is that this story made you feel something. Whether it was entertainment at the unfolding story or some type of solace watching someone overcome so much suffering, I hope you all walk away having been affected and, hopefully, changed for the better. If nothing else, walk away knowing this:

It's okay to cry. "Crying doesn't mean you're weak, and enduring doesn't mean you're strong." Pain, suffering, and despair breaks us all at one point or another, but "what is broken can be reforged," so don't give in. Hone your courage, your strength and will, and come back fighting harder than ever for the people and things you love.

(Quotes taken from Grimgar of Fantasy and Ash and Riven's dialogue from League of Legends respectively)

Be the courageous. Be dauntless. Be you.

Highest regards,

-Rook/VlRTUE

---

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It's cold.

I shiver, wincing in pain as my ribs report back painfully. My body is heavy and sluggish, each muscle slow to respond as I groan and stretch, blinking my eyes open briefly. A roaring sound suddenly breaks through the silence, the sound of magic energy being condensed and stolen. The world is too blurry for my eyes to make sense of, and so I close them again, focusing my efforts with steady breathing.

"Can't watch your own nation burn?" a voice, Sadon's, taunts. "How… pathetic."

It seems like no time has passed at all. I almost wonder if it wasn't all just a dream, that is, until I realize just how different I feel.

It's… odd. My bones and muscles feel softer, and the pain is more intense than I remember. More than that, a deep chill has set into my body. It's not uncomfortable, in fact, it feels nostalgic and almost refreshing. There's a deep sense of… something. It feels like I just took a shower and am now clean again… no, clean isn't right, but I feel like I'm who I was meant to be again.

The thing is, it feels worse.

Before, ignoring what happened was easy, trivial even. Sure, it left me feeling empty, like I was walking through the world missing something important, but it still left me feeling better than this. Now, I just feel hurt, exhausted, dirty, and used. It whispers constantly from the back of my thoughts, a thousand razor-thin cuts on the soft tissue of my mind. Every probe and touch brings back powerful flashes, images and sensations of what happened. It crushes my heart and lungs more than my broken ribs, a chain wrapped around my throat like a hangman's noose to keep me on a cold, throned leash that claws into my skin with each thought.

But maybe this is what acceptance feels like. Maybe acceptance isn't one single event that magically fixes the past, heals wounds, and creates happiness. Maybe, acceptance is a process, a fight that lasts with every breath and step. It's not about feeling better, it's about using the agony, the insane, dark power of human cruelty to make yourself stronger.

Suffering may break someone, but it isn't meant to keep someone broken. It's meant to make people stronger, to prepare them for something more. I know this now. It doesn't make it easier to bear, but at least know I understand.

I open my eyes again, shivering. I can feel how cold my skin is, even if the air is frosty itself. The mark on my body condensed my void magic into a physical representation, so it makes sense that it was cold before, but now that the seal is broken, now that the void isn't sealed away in the mark on my skin anymore, I'm not entirely sure why I'm still cold.

It probably has to do something with the fact that even though the seal was broken, it doesn't change the fact that the symbol is still on my back, it's purpose lingering. It must still be drawing out the void inside me but no longer sealing it. Maybe that's why I feel so frail and weak right now. Maybe I can use that somehow.

"Good," Sadon says as my eyes open, vision clear now. "I want you to see what happens next."

I look up at him slowly. Next to me, Seth pants, trying to pry the metal spike from his right hand unsuccessfully. I can see my brother a good distance away. He moves slowly, a look of forced concentration on his face as he slowly pulls out pieces of Sadon's metal shrapnel. He's positioned just out of Sadon's sight, and maybe if I can buy enough time, Zane can surprise him.

I move my hands underneath me, trying to push myself up, but it burns, my arms shaking. I push through the pain, though, and manage to push onto my hands and knees, gasping and dripping with sweat.

"Please, don't get up," Sadon laughs. "Enjoy the show from the comfort of your seat."

Anger flashes through me, and my muscles flare with strength as I give another push to stand. I stumble to my feet, my wheezing breaths absolutely agonizing. Thankfully, I'm used to pain, something I readily remember now. It doesn't make it hurt less, but it just doesn't seem to matter as much because I know I've endured more, that this is nothing.

I stare up at Sadon through strands of hair hanging over my face, sweat dripping off my chin and brow. He stands next to the fountain, smiling as the runes on it glow, as the blue mana of Ionia falls into the chalice. It absorbs it thirstily, never overflowing. I let out a grunt, taking a half, shuffling step forward.

I need a plan, that much I know. In this state, I can't exactly take Sadon on fairly. Even before that, I need to stop the chalice from draining mana. Destroying the fountain with it's runes might work, but I have no way of knowing what might happen if the transfer is interrupted. Best case, it stops, and worst case, the raw, ley line magic explodes, taking out the entire island. It's not like I have much of a choice, though.

First things first, I need to figure out how I'm going to get past Sadon. If my ribs weren't broken, I might stand a chance in an all out sprint. There's got to be another way, though…

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Sadon sighs, the metal studs in his face contorting it into a mockery of humanity. "This Grail, as the legends go, was either made to grant any wish or give eternal life. Either way, its creator understood that unimaginable amounts of power would be necessary, and so it was only ever filled with magical energy, with mana, in an attempt to one day build up enough to do such a thing. It was hidden away, only found when the League went on its crusade to gather artifacts too powerful for any one person to have, and they locked it in their vault."

Sadon gives a shrug, gesturing to it with a roll of his eyes.

"It's all very poetic," he laughs. "But I think that some old wizard just found a really crafty way to store infinite amounts of energy in a single vessel.."

My eyes flick to the cup, something nagging at the back of my mind. Sadon may not take stock in the legends, but everything has an origin. Maybe part of it is a lie, but every story has a basis on reality, which would mean…

I blink, a plan beginning to form. It's beyond stupid, moving into the realm of madness, but maybe that's exactly the kind of plan I need right now. It's a last ditch effort born of pure desperation, but it's all I have. It's not like everything isn't already at risk. This is probably my best shot, so I'll just have to take it.

So I start shuffling towards Sadon, dragging my feet through the burning in my chest and throat, staring directly at him with all the contempt I can muster.

"I have to admit," I manage to slur. "You're pretty tough for a lapdog."

His smile disappears, eyes narrowing at me.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," I slur, still moving forward. "You think you're so smart and powerful, but you're nothing. You're just a tool, and when you're done being used, they'll throw you away. You're trash, Sadon. You're not destined for greatness or power. You're nothing but a slave."

His face twitches, but he says nothing. He tries to find words to say, but he can't seem to. I see his fists clench tightly as I near him, almost getting in range of the fountain. I cough a few times, and I taste the hint of coppery blood in the back of my throat.

It tastes good, better than water after hours of thirst.

I shiver, channeling the anger of my revelation into my next words, stepping up to Sadon with a sneer.

"You're just a scared, weak little Noxian boy, too weak to do anything on your own, just like your parents."

His eyes widen. I feel sick with myself for going this far, and I have to force myself to say the next words.

"I bet you're going to beg for your life before you die," I snarl. "Just like Fairfax told me your parents did before he killed them."

He hand blurs, and he slaps me hard.

His palm moves with a blur, hitting my cheek like a hammer, and my entire body twists from the force, my mouth dropping open in a gasp as my face screams in pain. I leaned myself over before I got close to him, hunching myself so that the cheek opposite of the fountain was more open so when he slaps me, it throws my body in the direction of the fountain.

I gasp, spitting blood, and everything slows down for a moment.

I watch one particular droplet of blood as it flies from my mouth, arching through the air. I begin to fall next to the fountain, but not before I track it's path to the grail. It reaches the edge of the chalice, just dropping into the liquid blue by the barest of margins, and I smile as the liquid is stained red.

No object should be able to hold infinite amounts of magical energy, it just isn't possible. However, maybe if it was created with that very purpose and only ever filled with pure mana… maybe it would be possible. The thing is, it would have to have a glaring flaw, like what might happen if anything else fell into the cup.

So I can't help but wonder what will happen when a blood of a human and voidborn is mixed in.

The roaring hum of the magic symbols in the fountain stops, a shocked silence falling on everything even as I land on the ground next to the fountain. Sadon stares with wide eyes, reflexively reaching his right hand toward the chalice in a vain attempt to stop it. His head snaps towards me, and he opens his mouth.

Before he can say anything, the world explodes.

Red, glaring light blossoms into existence, bright enough to blind even through closed eyes. The sound is deafening, a basso boom that shakes me down to the bones, the earth vibrating as it throws up loose bits of stone. I have maybe a half-second to process all this before a force hits me, sliding me across the ground. Even with the fountain's bowl-like base forming a barrier between me and the pedestal, it still hits hard enough to make my ribs give a groaning crunch, my scream lost in the blast of sound.

Every small bump and imperfection in the ground sends a burning bolt of pain through me, but all I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and hope I come to a stop soon. Reality blurs with pain and sound that resonates with every muscle of my body, every throb of my heart threatening to tear me apart.

The bumping stops, and I warily blink my watery eyes open, giving a groan. All I can see is crimson, and it takes me a second to realize it's not my pain obscuring my vision. When I groan, all I can hear is a ringing sound in my ears. It makes me feel nauseous and dizzy at the same time, but the only thing I can do is keep blinking my eyes, trying to see through the light and regain my hearing.

The red fades slowly, and I begin making out shapes through it until it fades almost completely, and I let out a gasp.

All that remains of the fountain is the pedestal in the middle and the grail atop it. the arches of stone are gone, exploded by the sheer power of the grail, and I can clearly see holes in the academy where the stone flew like shrapnel. The entire, pristine courtyard is filled with little holes and craters, every window on the academy shattered. It looks like a warzone, and even as I stare, bits of stone in varying sizes continues to fall from the sky around me.

I notice all of this, but not for one second do I take my eyes from the source of the explosion. The grail, once filling with liquid, blue mana, now is overflowing with thick, red liquid. A harsh red aura surrounds it, humming with power that cuts cleanly through the ringing in my ears. Just looking at the grail makes me feel uneasy, and I figure out why a moment later.

Even though I'm not reaching out with my sense, I can still feel the overflowing magical energy from it. It's powerful, like an ocean, like the sun, or any other force of nature.

I swallow. The grail, which was filled for who knows how long with magical energy, was finally corrupted by void and blood. Void that consumes energy to make a powerful, destructive magic. I just put a touch of void in a practically endless supply of mana, and now…

Well, now instead of storing endless amounts of mana, it's releasing endless amounts, all of it with a nature of destruction. It's like a ley line's well, an overflowing source of mana already partially formed in its purpose.

The ringing starts to fade, and I push myself up slowly, now able to hear my gasps as I force myself to stand. My ribs burn, the fire spreading to my lungs and heart, each breath more of a labor than ever. I look around blearily, forcing myself to take it slow as my head swims and balance wavers.

I spot Seth still lying on the ground. He's a few feet away from his original position, clutching his hand. The spike is still in it, and blood coats his hand. The explosion of magical energy must have dislodged the metal from the stone but not this palm, only jarring it around, scraping against his bones. Seth's face is ashen, and he takes slow, stuttering breaths, his sweat-drenched face focused in concentration, trying to get through the pain.

Zane is doing better than him. He's back on his feet, dropping one last piece of metal shrapnel as he stands. Bits of stone have cut fine lines into his skin, and the left side of his face is covered in dirt and gravel, blood mixing in from a large gash on the side of his head. His eyes reflect nothing in them as he scans the courtyard until he finds me. They flicker with a light briefly, but then he blinks and gives me a steady nod. I nod back, taking a step towards Seth to help him.

"What have you done?" a voice demands, and I turn to face it.

Sadon stands, staring at the remnants of the fountain. He appears mostly unscathed by the explosion, probably putting up a shield of some sort at the last second. Still, he clutches the wrapped void staff tightly in his hands, looking at me in one half horror and one half hatred.

"It-" I start to say, but Sadon throws me a wild look, his eyes filled with wrath.

"You just don't get it!" he screams. "You can't win! This changes nothing for you! Why would you do this? Why?"

I look at him for a moment, then I let out a slow, long sigh. He still thinks he has the upper hand, that I've only stopped his first plan. Sadon probably thinks I'm just trying to hurt him now, that I'm trying to cause him as much grievance as I can before he inevitably opens the portal to the void. He honestly doesn't understand.

So I'll just have to explain it to him.

"Because," I gasp, clutching my burning chest tightly. "You're trying to hurt people, to make them suffer and live in agony. I know what it's like to live every day, slowly being eaten by guilt and shame, cut down with every whispered word and glancing glare. How could I not try to save others from that fate when I have the power and strength to stop it?"

"No," he spits. "You purpose isn't noble! I still have the void at my command! Ionia was going to die either way! The only thing you've done is waste their lives! The power from the ley lines could have changed the world in our hands you petty little wench. Watch as your people are hunted down and die like the dogs they are, and know they now die for nothing!"

He raises the staff high just as I notice Zane steadying himself, grim determination on his face. His eyes catch mine, and I give him the smallest shake of my head. He looks confused, but he stops moving, nodding back to me. Sadon flicks the cloth from the top of the staff, a purple, eldritch aura emanating immediately as the staff is revealed.

"Say goodbye to Ionia," Sadon hisses.

He slams the staff down, uttering a guttural, hissing word.

"Come forth!" he adds with a shout, "and devour."

Violet energy explodes from the top of the staff, shooting out with electric fingers that tear open the air in front of him, eating away at the very fabric of reality and creating a giant, gaping hole in the air, a portal that leads into the void. It's like a door without a frame, and I can see inside it, a world of black and purple mist obscuring my view.

However, it doesn't soften the sounds coming from the void.

The clash of metal and explosion of magic echoes out, the sounds of war rolling over us like thunder. As the purple mist falls into our world, it thins slightly, enough to see figures engaged in combat. Giant, monstrous shapes rage against smaller, humanoid figures. The creatures, even mostly obscured, seem to be made out of literal chaos and nightmare, their forms tearing at my sanity as I realize every claw, tooth, and writhing appendage is a weapons designed for only the purpose of death.

Sadon stares into the portal, confusion on his face, and it takes me a second to understand what's going on too.

I wasn't actually expecting the portal to open. I thought it would remain closed, that nothing would happen because… well…

The reason Fairfax was late, why he wasn't there to help us close the tunnels, was because I had him send two letters. One to my mother, explaining what was going on, and the other to Akira, warning him of what might happen.

I didn't know Sadon was behind the killings Akira was investigating, or that Sadon was planning on opening portals at all those locations with the void staff's power. All I knew was that if someone was using voidborn and opening portals, the veil between our world and the void would be a lot thinner. In the letter I had Fairfax make sure Akira got immediately, I warned him that the magic of the League match could draw voidborn to those tears already opened, that a lot of people could die if he didn't get the Runeguard to station people at those locations and around the city in case they opened new paths.

Of course, even sending that letter yesterday, Akira would have had less than twenty-four hours to prepare such a thing. The amount of manpower to station people at all those locations… there's no way he had the kind of pull in the organization to do such a thing on short notice.

So he didn't even try to get people already stationed in Ionia to defend.

He got them to attack.

I don't know how he convinced others to follow him, but I can see at least a dozen figures fighting from where I stand. Akira brought the fight to them for once.

I can't help but feel both intense pride and fear as I smile, tears threatening to spill. If Akira had followed my plan, there would have been no way that people didn't die. The voidborn, pulled by the magic of the League match and the previously opened portals would have had an easy time creating new paths, picking off Ionians before any Runeguard could arrive. Akira, not wanting any bystanders to get hurt, led an attack against the voidborn, a direct threat to occupy them.

It's practically suicide.

Dozens of people can die fighting a single voidborn, and even if they are Runeguard, trained for such a thing, the chances of any single one of them surviving… I mean, they won't all get wiped out, but the courage it would take to attack the voidborn in their own home, where dozens could be…

This is what real heroes look like, fighting against all odds not because they expect to win, but because they know that trying is the right thing to do. It doesn't matter how outnumbered our outmatched they are, because if there's a chance they can save lives, then they'll take it.

I've never felt more proud to call Akira brother, fiery love blossoming inside me as I let out a fierce shout and smile. Sadon looks back in forth in confusion, unable to comprehend what's happening.

A sharp, whistling sound splits the air some sort of glowing white projectiles flies from the portal with vicious speed, directed right at Sadon's head.

He manages to get his metal arm in the way, and the projectile hits dead on. It explodes against his arm in a blaze of white fire, and Sadon is pushed back from the portal, stumbling to keep his balance. The smoke from the explosion fades quickly, and I see that the metal plating of his arm is scorched black where the white thing hit, a series of small cracks having formed. Sadon snarls, lowering his arm to look into the portal, and I follow his gaze.

From the bloodcurdling screams of war, of men and women dying, of monsters shrieking in agony, of steel clashing and magic singing, a figure steps forth, the mist falling away from his form.

Akira, my brother, stands with a giant, silver-metal bow outstretched in one hand, his other poised as if to draw the string back. He wears white and silver armor that practically glows in the darkness of the void. All of it is segmented, made for mobility, and where metal might be hinder his movements, thick white leather takes its place.

As he sees Sadon, still clutching the void staff in his normal hand, he frowns, and pulls back on where the bow string should be with his right hand. He has no arrow or actual bowstring held, but even as I watch, white magic swirls into his fist, and as he pulls back, the light forms both an arrow and creates a bowstring, both made of pure, glowing magic. He lets go, and the arrow snaps forward with an explosion, splitting the air with a clear, whistling song.

Sadon metal hand blurs, slapping this one out of the air. It still explodes, but his slap manages to direct the brunt of the explosion away from him. Sadon growls, eyes narrowing at Akira. Sadon looks him up and down, eyes flickering with recognition at the Runeguardian armour.

"Akira!" I shout, joy and hope mingling in my voice.

He blinks, head snapping to finally look at me, and his eyes widen in surprise. Emotions flash quicker than lightning through his eyes, but they settle on relief, a tight but tired smile forming. He gives me a knowing nod, not asking why I'm here or what's going on. Akira's got a job to do, and now that he knows I'm fighting too, he only looks more determined and focused than ever before.

Someone steps next to him, and I wait for the mist to dissipate so I can so who Akira's partner is, who would be brave and foolish enough to stand with him with such an insane plan. He's tall, wearing armor similar in style and color to Akira's but made of steel plate instead of leather. He has long, brown hair that falls to his shoulders, and he wields a scimitar in each hand. A bamboo hat covers his eyes, but even before he lifts his face, I recognize the man.

Ex-vice-captain Sevran looks up, his eye lighting up when he sees me, lips curling into a faint smile.

"It's been awhile," he says, barely loud enough to hear. "Princess."

I can't help but smile at the familiar nickname. Sevran, who did what I couldn't in killing Kor, takes a quick look at Akira and they both nod, striding towards the portal with purpose. A snarl interrupts the moment, and my head snaps to Sadon as he slams the void staff back down again. The portal begins to collapse, purple energy swirling back to the staff as it shrinks smaller and smaller.

Akira's eyes narrow, and he breaks out into a sprint, trying to dive through the portal before it closes. Fear, cold and real, steals my breath, and I quickly hold out a hand, urging him to stop as a realization strikes me.

If he comes here, then Sadon will kill him. I don't know how, but I just know that's what will happen, my instincts screaming louder than ever before. Maybe it's because he's been trained to fight Voidborn and has no idea what Sadon is capable of, or maybe it's the fact that I'm up against a person with nothing to lose. Whatever it is, I know Akira can survive and escape from the void, especially now that he knows I'm the one stopping the person opening the portal.

Akira. As much as I want him here, the Runeguard need him more. If he comes to this side, maybe I survive, but without his skills, a lot of Runeguardians will die. That is the truth of the matter, something that I know even without my instincts warning me. They need him, and if that means sacrificing us to hold the Voidborn off until the match is over…

I swallow back the tears.

"Stop!" I shout, and he skids to a stop, a confused look on his face as the portal continues closing. "You have to stay and help the Runeguard! We've got this, Akira. We all have a job to do…"

His eyes soften, and I can see the urge to resist, to jump through the portal anyway. His fist clenches tightly around the bow, though, and he gives a nod, his next words coming out choked with emotion.

"Be safe," he whispers. "I love you, sis."

"I love you too," I whisper back. "Don't be a hero."

Akira smiles, giving me a nod, and that's the last thing I see of him before the portal closes, taking the sound of battle and my brother out of reach. I turn, quickly refocusing, on Sadon. He just stares blankly at where the portal was, and I see his hand with the staff in it begin to shake. His eyes flick to me, and I suddenly feel very, very exposed. I go to draw my sword, and that's when I realize I never picked it up after Sadon hit me with that metal spear.

"You," Sadon asks, his voice quiet and smooth, "how did you know to warn the Runeguard?"

"Lucky guess?" I respond back, the hair on the back of my neck rising.

"No," Sadon shakes his head. "I want to know. Really. How did you know?"

I swallow. Sadon's voice quivers with something dangerous, a deep, building firestorm of wrath. Interfering and stopping a few of his plan was enough to make him mad, but taking this away from him, stopping him from summoning voidborn… it's one step too far, one last push to send him over the breaking point. He's at the end of his sanity, and if I don't tread carefully, he may just do something that even I can't stop.

"Fairfax made sure I got letters from my brothers," I answer slowly. "Akira told me about what was going on. I made sure to send one last letter to him, warning him how weak the barrier between this world and the Void would be during the League match."

"Ah…" Sadon nods thoughtfully a few times, chewing the idea over.

My eyes wander for a moment, checking on Zane and Seth. Zane is back on his feet, sword gripped tightly, but Seth has only managed to pick his axe back up, still trying to stand. The spike still sticks through his palm, and so he uses his left hand, face scrunched in concentration as he tries to focus past the pain. He must not be pulling the spike out for fear of causing more damage or losing too much blood.

I can't help but wince, eyes tracking back to my brother. He sees my worried look as I see all the blood covering him, the tiny cuts and gashes probably looking worse than they are. Zane gives me a steady nod, as if to say he's alright, and I let out a stuttering breath, nodding back before I turn back to Sadon.

Instead of looking dejected and confused, there's a sparkle of something in his eyes. It almost looks like…

Hope?

"I can still win," Sadon says, each word dripping with malice and desperation. "I can turn this around."

He speaks the words with a deadly purpose lurking behind them, and I can feel him tensing up like a snake with each word that follows.

"Sadon, it's over," I say quickly. "There's no reason for us to fight now. Just give up, and we can go our separate-"

He slams the staff into the ground hard enough to break stone, and the words choke in my throat.

"No reason?" he tilts his head. "I can think of at least one very, very good reason."

My heart starts racing, and I quickly change my stance, reaching out for-

"To make you suffer."

He acts fast. Faster than thought and prepared reflex, he shouts, raising his hand at me, his aura condensing into a whirlwind of power that splits the distance between us with the speed of lightning and ferocity of a charging warhorse. I don't have time to counterspell, to cry out, or even to solidify my aura. It hits me, with a blink of an eye, and the only thing I can do is embrace the pain as it becomes my world.

A red, haziness fills my mind, wrapping me with a warm, prickling blanket. It feels like being underwater, almost, each of my senses suddenly working against a resistance, slowing me down and delaying me. I can barely feel my body as it's lifted up from the ground by the whirlwind of pure power, slamming me back into the ground and sliding me across it, each bump of stone jabbing into my flesh like a hammer until I come to a merciful stop.

I try my best to focus my mind, to push away the pain, and I let out a groan. My chest burns, ribs cracking once again as they settle into new, more agonizing positions. Each breath is fast and heavy, another sheen of sweat forming on my brow as I blindly stumble to my feet. I clutch at my chest, arms shaking as I look up, blinking away the pain.

Sadon and Zane brawl with each other, each of their attacks slow moving but vicious, aiming to kill or maim in singular strikes. Zane's sword sparks off of Sadon's arm with loud clashes of steel that cut through even the pain in my ears. Sadon slaps away the strikes, and with a snarl, counterattacks, aiming to take Zane's head off with a vicious swipe.

Zane moves out of the way by almost nothing at all, dodging each of Sadon's calculated attacks before returning with some of his own. I can see his muscles bulging as he spins and slams his sword into Sadon over and over again, each attack leaving a significant scratch on Sadon's steel arm. Sadon's just too quick for Zane's blade, though, but Zane sees that. So Zane steps closer, and using his muscle, slams into Sadon with his shoulder.

Sadon falls off balance, and Zane's next attack is preceded with shout and spin, his sword just being blocked by Sadon at the last second, flakes of steel scraping off. Zane pushes his offensive, turning the fight into a purely physical contest and preventing Sadon from mustering any of his more destructive magics.

Sadon lets out a growl, and on Zane's next overhead slash he catches my brother's blade, grasping it tightly, refusing to let go. Zane doesn't even seem phased, kicking Sadon's leg with a whiplash strike. That leg gives out beneath Sadon, and Zane pushes down, using his full weight and muscle to bring the sword closer and closer to Sadon's face. Sadon blanches, pushing on his metal arm with his other as the blade inches towards his face in his kneeled position, unable to gain leverage.

I cough, standing up straighter and pushing away the last of the pain as my brother's sword comes closer to ending the fight. Sadon glances at the sword, his mouth setting into a firm line as his eyes harden.

Then, he pushes the blade ever so slightly to his right by giving out resistance on that side of his body. His arm falls along with Zane's blade, but it's new path misses Sadon's head, cutting into his shoulder instead. Sadon lets out a shout of pain, grabbing the blunt edge with his left hand. Zane tries to draw the blade away, but Sadon holds it in place, his metal arm slashing out.

The claws cut into Zane's forearm, digging a few inches deep into his flesh, and Zane pales noticeably, his right hand reflexively letting go of his blade. Sadon takes advantage, using his left hand to tear the blade from his shoulder and throw it to the side, rising to his feet with a vicious kick to Zane's stomach.

Zane doubles over, trying to back away, but isn't quick enough. Sadon clenches his metal hand into a fist and slaps the side of his head with all his strength. Zane's head snaps to the right, and he falls to the ground, rolling onto his back before lying still. My hands cover my mouth as I stare at my brother, frantically looking for signs of life, and I let out a small whine when I see him groan, blood oozing out from a new, ugly gash in the side of his face.

Sadon tests his leg a few times, regaining use of it as he picks the void staff back up, having dropped it sometime during the fight. Then he looks back up at me, a smile forming on his face as he stands over my barely conscious, groaning brother. He raises his metal hand, and a long, serrated steel spear forms in it, one he points at Zane's throat, and everything comes to a stop.

Each breath hurts as I stare at the wicked spear tip against the weak skin of my brother's throat. I know that even the smallest of moves by either of us and he kills Zane. Neither of us move, and the only sound that fills the air is pained pants of exhaustion and fear.

"You…" Sadon starts, shaking his head with a laugh. "You care about him more than yourself, don't you?"

I can't look away from my bleeding, wounded brother, not even able to summon words to my throat, so I just give a shaky nod.

"Tell me," Sadon says, tracing Zane's jugular with the spear. "Would you give your life for his?"

"Yes," I answer in a heartbeat, eyes snapping back to him as my breath catches. "Please. This is between us. Kill me instead."

He smiles at me, almost sympathetically.

"No."

Sadon pushes down on the spear as I scream.

Flesh begins parting along Zane's throat, but the second Sadon utters "no," Zane's hand slaps the spear, pushing it to the side as he turns his head. Instead of piercing his throat, the spear only ends up cutting a long line across it before slamming into the ground with the crack of breaking stone. I can't exactly see how deep the cut is, but it must be fairly shallow because I don't see any blood spray from his throat.

Zane rolls out of the way as Sadon pulls the spear from the stone with a grunt, Zane rising to his feet, taking long, swift steps away from him, wobbling with obvious dizziness. Sadon twirls, whipping the spear in a deadly, slashing arc that catches Zane's back at the very edge of its range, opening up a cut from his right shoulder to left hip in a scarlet spray, and Zane begins falling to the ground limply.

The cut is deep, maybe even deep enough to steal life all on its own. A gasp escapes Zane's lips, eyes squeezing shut in pain as he begins to fall to the ground, and a fire ignites my heart, something inside of me snapping as I look at gore exploding from my brother's back.

It doesn't matter how tired I am.

It doesn't matter how much it hurts.

Nobody hurts my brother.

I reach out to my magic for the first time since I talked with the masked man, the entity inside me, and my magic sings in response. It feels clearer than ever before, answering with an eagerness I long thought destroyed. Instead of having to force the power out, it responds and meets me halfway, glad to be a part of me once again.

So I gather the energy, focusing it into my muscles as I use kinomancy to blink to the side. The world swirls for a moment with motion, and then I drop out in a crouch next to my katana, where I dropped it before. I pick it up, spinning on my heel back towards Sadon and my brother, both moving in seemingly slow motion, and I blink again.

I've never used two blinks with only a half second between before, but I don't have time for playing it safe. I come out of motion right in between Sadon and my brother, Zane's body still in mid-fall to the ground and Sadon still finishing the swing of his spear. My arm is held out, and I bring the full momentum of the two blinks into one, deadly slash, forcing the essence of pure speed into my blade with a scream. My katana cuts the air with a shriek, an explosion of sound that booms through the air, mirroring my exploding ribcage.

I don't know how Sadon does it, whether it's instinct, reflex, or just years of training, but just before my sword slams into his left bicep, he twists, throwing a vicious uppercut with his metal covered right hand. The blow turns all my momentum against me, bringing me to a crashing halt as his fist slams into my stomach with unnatural strength. The force of the blow is supernatural, lifting me from my feet, and I'm sent hurtling away with nauseating pain and speed.

I land heavily against the ground, rolling a few times and jostling my ribs even more. I can't even cry out as the pain stabs into me, my breathless existence reducing it to sad little whimpers. His new strength is stronger than any other blow he's thrown at me, a simple punch reducing my world into a tunnel of red and black that threatens to steal me away.

I can vaguely feel someone by my side, words reaching me but not making sense. A tug helps me to my knees, and I look up to see Seth next to me, his mouth moving. He looks battered, his right hand still shaking with the spike in it. His teeth are clenched tight as he looks at me.

I try to wheeze out some sort of reassurance, but the distinct metallic taste of blood comes up, hot and sticky on my breath. I gurgle something out, setting my katana down next to me as I gag, coughing up blood a few times. I can feel Seth's hand on my back, and my hearing slowly returns even if pain throbs throughout my entire body with each heartbeat.

I manage to look up to see Sadon smiling, a good thirty feet away. My brother lies facedown next to him almost completely motionless, his blood covered back barely rising and falling in uneven breath. I look up at Sadon as he twirls the mostly covered void staff in his left hand, planting it against the ground with a sigh of satisfaction.

"It occurs to me," Sadon rasps, "that maybe it isn't over for me quite yet."

I cough, spraying blood onto the ground as I desperately try to get my muscles to lift themselves.

"I may not be able to steal the energy from Ionia's ley lines, but returning with the grail as it is now would still be an incredible boon," Sadon nods to himself. "That just leaves one loose string… covering up the attempt to rig the match and any who know about it."

"You… can't…" I spit, groaning as my head swims in fiery torment.

"I can't summon voidborn to do it for me," he smiles. "But that doesn't mean my practice has to have been for nothing. It doesn't mean I can't make it look like a voidborn attack myself."

Each racing heartbeat brings small ounces of strength in adrenaline, but I just can't get in a deep enough breath to relieve the pressure in my head.

"All's it takes," he whispers, raising a hand close to the metal of the void staff. "Is the borrowing of a little power."

"You're crazy," Seth growls. "It'll consume you!"

"No," Sadon shakes his head quickly. "See, I don't think that's true at all. Void is just magic like anything else, and it will heed my command."

My fists clench and shake. Sadon's a fool if he actually believes that, but there's nothing I can say to stop him. I've pushed him to desperation, to taking one final risk in an attempt to salvage everything. He's at his wit's end, and this is his last attempt.

There's a reason the void staff is covered in cloth, that Sadon hasn't directly touched it. Whether he realizes it or not, it's too powerful for him to control. The second he touches it, it will consume him and turn him into a monster, a creature with the power to kill everyone in this entire academy. Without the Runeguard here, there's no telling how much death he could cause.

"P-please," I beg, looking up at him. "D-don't. Don't do t-this. Just… please s-stop this."

Sadon's smile widens as he looks me in the eyes.

"No."

Sadon rips the cloth from the staff with one swift motion, and then he directly places his hand on an artifact from the void itself.

Energy gushes out with a hollow hunger, ink black fingers of void staining the air as they coil out like tendrils, wrapping around Sadon hand, and crawling up his skin with slow purpose. Sadon lets out a howl filled with pain and excitement at the same time. More purple-black tendrils snap from the staff, disintegrating his clothes as they attach to new parts of his body, slowly crawling over him until he's completely engulfed by the void tendrils.

The purple-black mass of tendrils that is Sadon begins to writhe faster and faster, clenching him into a tight cocoon. The staff drops from Sadon's grasp as his arms are pulled tight to his body, but the staff stays floating as the black tendrils work like thousands of spider legs over Sadon's form. The cocoon begins to harden in places, and the energy of the void staff slowly fades, only disappearing when the cocoon becomes one giant mass of purple-black flesh.

The staff drops to the ground, and the second it hits, the cocoon cracks. As the void staff settles, the cocoon melts away, turning back into dark smoke before disappearing entirely. The smokey void fades slowly, revealing Sadon's form with sinister anticipation.

Beyond the general shape, Sadon bears no similarity to a human anymore. From head to toe his skin is covered in a slick, smooth carapace armor not unlike that of an insect's. The carapace covers him like a knight's armor would, heavy plates around his torso, and each section of his arms and legs. Each purple-black plate covers bulging, unnatural muscles, individual fibers thick as a bowstring and strong enough to turn away most blades even without protection of the smoother carapace armor.

His head raises slowly, his face completely covered in a smooth carapace shell, the only fracture in it being a line where his mouth is. It opens, revealing a huge, unhinged mouth that carry black, spiked teeth that number more than a shark's, and the breath that leaves him sounds more animal than human, forming mist in the air. The lack of eyes, or, at least, holes for them on his face mask is disturbing in itself, especially because he still looks around like he can see just fine without them.

"Oh…" the creature that is Sadon breathes, his voice unnaturally deep and grating. "How good this feels..."

He raises his large, clawed hand, clenching it tight a few times in front of his face as he raises from his hunched posture, standing taller than before.

"It will be fun…" his voice a permanent growl. "To flay the flesh from your bones."

I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to give in. I try to stand, and I can feel Seth shakily trying to help. With our combined injuries and the metal spike continually sending agony through him, though, our efforts just aren't enough, and we fall back to the ground, breathing heavy as Seth shouts in anger, slamming the butt of his axe into the ground.

We can't die like this.

There has to be something I can do.

I blink my eyes open, tears clearing my vision, and…

...and I watch as they drop onto blood covered stone.

Oh. Of course.

There is something I can do.

I can go all the way.

I can accept myself not just in thought, but also in action. It might be a long shot, but if we're going to die anyway…

I look slowly over to Seth, most of my weight leaned against him as I sit on the ground. Our eyes meet, my hands slowly clasping around his wounded, shaking hand and holding on tight.

"Do you trust me?" I whisper.

"Yes," he answers softly.

My heart flutters for a moment.

"Thank you," I say.

Then I rip the metal spike from his right hand.

Seth screams in pain, but he doesn't pull away as blood gushes from the hole in his hand. I let the blood pool for a moment, keeping pressure on the bottom of the hole with my left hand so it overflows from the top. I hesitate for a moment, staring into the blood, but it still doesn't disgust me. To me, it looks the same as water.

So in one deft motion, I pull Seth's hand to my mouth, close my eyes, and I drink.

The instant I do, I'm overcome with a feeling similar to having run miles and miles without a drop of water, only finally getting a drink at the end. Similar, but magnitudes stronger, like life itself is entering back into my exhausted, hurting body. The blood tastes like that water, flavorless, but somehow still more appealing than anything else in the entire world for that moment. I drink, gulping down the blood with ravenous thirst and hunger all rolled into one, and it feels like utter bliss.

I can't get enough of it. I can feel the blood running through him, pushed with each pulsing heartbeat, but it isn't fast enough. I'm starving. I'm dying of thirst. So I reach out with my mind, and will his blood to come faster and faster, controlling it to sate my thirst.

I could go on forever, drinking until there was nothing left, but something in the back of my head screams for me to stop. It takes me another second, but that's when I realize that Seth's pulse is getting weaker, that he's reaching his limit, and if I drink anymore he's going to die. Which…

Would be bad… wouldn't it?

That thought, the very fact it whispers through my mind shocks me, breaking my will as I gasp, pulling away and opening my eyes. The world seems so much clearer now, every dust particle and scratch in the stone now obvious to my searching eyes. I turn, looking quickly to Seth with wide eyes, panic rising in me.

I turn, my vision landing instantly on Seth's eyes. I never noticed how clear they were before, how much pain hid in the dark spots and places. What really stops my breath, though, is the reflection of myself. I look into his eyes, clear as any mirror, and I see what I've become. My eyes have changed color from blue to blood red, practically glowing in the darkness of the night.

I blink, but the reflection doesn't change. Seth smiles weakly at me, wrapping his hand in a strip of cloth as his eyes flicker.

"Go get him," he slurs. "When he turns his back… I'll be ready."

Seth puts a hand on the ground to steady himself, and I can tell he's dizzy and unbalanced all at the same time. Somehow, I just know he hasn't lost enough blood to die yet just like I know the sun will rise. He's not in danger of dying, not from what I took. For now, though, he's out of the fight until he regains himself, which means…

I turn, finding Sadon between my locks of black hair. He looks at me with his monstrous, eyeless face curiously, head tilted in confusion. I take stock of myself, and-

I feel amazing.

Energy explodes inside me, screaming louder than the pain, and with an afterthought, I send some of that energy to the pain and exhaustion attempting to take control. I focus on my very blood, enhancing it with my magic, and my ribs begin to crack, shifting and readjusting as they naturally heal themselves but at a pace thousands of times faster. Every cracked bone and bruised organ receives the same treatment, and I feel every one of my wounds that get healed.

It takes seconds and a lot of energy, each heartbeat pulsing out more than I usually use in a whole day. My body mends itself back together, and I sigh as the last of the pain fades away, rising to my feet, katana in hand.

The chilled air touches my skin not uncomfortably, and I take a deep breath, drinking in the air. My mind feels clearer than ever, my muscles at the strongest they've ever been. The world feels different, less hard than it used to be, or maybe just less important. I feel powerful, more powerful than ever before, and it feels amazing.

Sadon stares at me uneasily, a low growling purr in his throat as he shifts his weight uneasily. He says nothing, and I begin to get the feeling not much of Sadon is left. He's more animal than human now, barely able to form coherent words or keep himself from immediately giving in to bloodlust or instinct. He may be powerful, but he has to have a weakness, something I can exploit.

I flick my eyes over Sadon's new form. Judging by the battle he had with my brother, he's faster, stronger, and lighter than any human should be. His claws are sharp enough to cut through the toughest steel, and I don't know how well spell-reinforced clothes might fare. He has a humongous advantage over me physically right now.

A smirk forms on my lips as I realize how I can change that.

I've started using my blood magic, a branch of my origin, but I can go further. I can use the other branches too. I have yet to use the full force of my conjuration, afraid of what I might be capable of if I do. There's a few very specific things I've forced myself to not use, but first…

First I need to take the advice from the masked entity and reforge the clothes I currently wear back into their original form, their more powerful and true form.

I gather myself, focusing on my clothes made armor through magic, and I call forth the original image, the original manifestation of this armor, condensing all the useless, covering cloth and additions over the years into stronger, more powerful spells. Even though there is less space to work with, it comes together hundreds of times easier as I work with my origin magic and its branches. I gather the ideas of all my conjured armors, strength, speed, defense, and power, and I push them all together, the spells snapping together in my mind with ease. It builds itself in one beautiful, haunting image, one I wouldn't dare conjure before.

Then I push energy into imagination, into will, and I create my final armor.

Purple light glows in lines and circles beneath me, forming a magical symbol full of glyphs and marks. It's more intricate than any I've ever created before, and it resonates with humming power that distorts the air around me as inky blackness rises from the center of the symbol where I stand, wrapping around me and covering me from the neck down with shadow as my clothes turn into energy and then reform. The shadows condense into clothes, the purple light beneath me fading as the spell finishes.

I'm left wearing long, fingerless black gloves made of a smooth but durable material unlike any other I've seen. Leggings of the same material and color cover me hip to foot, dark Ionian-style sandals wrapping around my feet and calves in a snug fit. Finally, The only other thing I wear is a backless dress colored like the night, its skirt short and loosely fluttering to prevent hindrance and entanglement. It leaves my shoulders bare, the front of the dress tight against my skin and being held up at the back of my neck. A sash around my waist holds finishes the ensemble, wrapped tightly to hold the skirt of the dress in place.

This is the original form of the armor I was just wearing. That day, when I was dancing and practicing magic while I waited for Kyle, I wasn't just dancing for fun, I was practicing. Our school was going to hold a small festival, and I was practicing for my place in one of the acts. I had been asked to dance in this beautiful, backless dress in the last event of the festival, a dance to honor the dead.

Then Kor burned the tear-streaked void mask icon into my back.

Weeks of practice and work, of dreams and joy, all of it burned away with one act. The day I told the headmaster of the school that I couldn't do it is vivid in my memory, the shame hot on my cheeks as I could only shake my head as he tried to convince me, to tell me I could wear something that covered my back. I remember Zane stepping forward and silencing the headmaster with a look, his fists clenched so tightly that blood dripped from between his knuckles.

Over the years, I added a coat to the spell, and changed the sandals to combat boots, the additions meant to hide the mark on my back, to keep the truth as far from me and everyone else as I could. I was running from it, trying to refuse and forget what happened. Now… I accept. There's no point in running from something that will always be at my back, from something that has already happened and can't be changed. It's a part of me, but it only defines the entirety of me if I let it.

And I'm done doing that. It's time for me to defy the darkness, no matter what form it takes.

I'll show my brand and wash away the shame, because I did nothing wrong.

I'll wear this dress and fight with courage, defining who I am by what I do.

I'll use my magic and use my origin, becoming who I'm meant to be.

Ever expectation, misconception, and evil, every fear, haunting dream, and nightmare, and every tyrant, sadist, and villain…

I will defy.

My eyes find Sadon once again as he stares at me, teeth clenched in a sharp embrace. I shiver with power, forcing myself to get used to the odd feeling of wearing clothes that expose my back and shoulders, clothes thinner than I'm used to. I turn my head slowly, looking back at Seth with one eye while keeping the other on Sadon.

Seth looks at me standing there, sword held diagonally towards the ground, and he smile, his eyes shining through his exhaustion and pain. He doesn't look horrified or disgusted by what he sees on my back. The horrible, ink black scars not even seeming to phase him. In fact…

"You're beautiful, Aria," Seth whispers, a smile on his face even through the pain.

An emotion, pure and hotter than any fire burns into me, lighting up my very soul, and I smile. Not a forced one or one without feeling or the humor of life in it, but one of actual emotion, too strong to describe as Seth says the words I thought I would never hear from anyone who saw my back.

"Do you remember that day you trained me in the forest?" I ask quietly. "The day I was training with my sword for the duels?"

He nods.

"You told me that my attacks were off," I say, raising my katana in front of me and looking at it intently. "That I was used to a different kind of weapon, one with more reach. You thought that the katana wasn't the weapon I was best at."

My eyes flick back to him for a moment.

"You were right."

I turn back to Sadon, crouching while keeping my blade parallel with the sheath at my side. I lift my left hand, touching the spell forged steel with my fingertips, the only thing I have from my father. He made this sword for me, but the thing is… he created it just before he went to war. He couldn't have known if I would be good with swords, bows, or anything really. That, however, is of little consequence to steel forged in magic, because spellsteel adapts to it's user, the true form of the weapons waiting to be called out by the wielder who spends days, months, and years training with it, meshing their aura into the steel.

"Dumont questioned me the day I gave him my list of spells for our League matches," I say, directing my gaze at Sadon. "Do you know why?"

"No matter," it responds with raw hunger, taking a tentative step forward. "Word not save you now."

"He asked me if I was sure I wanted zero offensive spells," I answer, ignoring him. "I was sure because I wanted to avoid becoming… myself. I didn't want to hurt anyone, to give away who I am and what I'm capable of. I was so scared I never even conjured a weapon. I don't have that problem anymore."

I slide my hand along the blunt edge of my katana, focusing on the spellwork and pouring a small amount of effort and energy into it. Words spring to mind, and I speak them in as part of the ritual to help me focus.

"Let them reap the tears of blood they shed, turn my tears to blades of ice, and freeze my sorrows into my blade."

"Reap," I command my blade, it's name following. "Yuki Shādo."

Purple energy glows from the blade, engulfing it from tip to pommel. It grows, expanding into a fog that engulfs the area surrounding me, and I can feel the blade shifting in the cloak of power from where I hold it in my right hand. I pull it forth from the sheath of light, slashing my new weapon to point diagonally to the ground on my right side, and the purple fog clears from the motion, shimmering out of existence and revealing my weapon.

When I first chose what weapon I wanted to use, my brother helped me. I needed something that could accomodate my speed, but didn't require huge amounts of strength and made up for my frailty. I needed something that would give me maximum reach while having a weight that would lend to momentum, allowing me to use dance-like moves in both offensive and defensive manners. When Zane first showed me what weapon I would be using, I thought it was a ridiculous idea. Now, it seems all too fitting.

In my hand I hold a giant scythe, the long metal pole gripped tightly in my right hand. The blade at the end of the scythe is huge, curving with wicked edges. A second, smaller scythe blade arcs from behind the first, providing the look of one long crescent of steel with a metal pole sticking slightly off center through it. The poll extends behind my back and over my left shoulder, a metal spike-like blade attached at the end. The entire scythe is colored blacker than the night except the blades and their Ionian, katana styled edges. They glow a stark, pure white that practically glows in the night.

The scythe must look ridiculously oversized and inefficient. In my hand though, it feels right. The scythe is heavy, I can feel the weight in my hand, but it doesn't weigh against my muscles at all. The spellwork makes it feel like a part of me as much as my arm or leg, and I know how to use it. Whether it's hours of practice with Zane and Akira or just part of the intricate spell forged steel, it just feels… right.

I lift my left arm behind me, grabbing the other end of the poll lightly between my fingers, letting out a sigh. Just having my scythe behind my back reassures me, and my racing, fearful heart calms slightly. I'm still scared, terrified, really, but I feel like I can face it, like it isn't some daunting, impossible enemy in front of me.

"Scythe?" Sadon rumbles, a grin returning to his face. "Impractical. You disappoint."

I set my jaw. He doesn't understand that physically, I can challenge him. My conjured clothes have spells worked in that let me use blood magic on a whim, letting me strengthen my muscles, speed up my senses, harden my skin, and do so much more just by wanting it. My conjured clothes combine and exceed all of my other conjurations added together. Protection, speed, strength, power… all of it wrapped into one more efficient and more powerful spell.

That's not all, though. My scythe is conjured from the spellsteel of my katana with enchantments added in the process. It's considerable weight won't bear heavily on me, it can channel my spells to make them stronger or more precise, and it's considerably sharper, the Ionian styled edges glinting as they cut the air itself. It took barely anything to call forth my scythe, but my spell to summon my strongest clothes, my Reaper armor, that took quite a lot from me. Tiredness nips at the edges of my mind, the overflowing energy having faded to maybe half of what it once was. I'm at maybe eighty percent of my energy and mana reserves, but the price is easy to pay in exchange for inhuman strength, speed, and defense.

And that's just what my conjuration magic is doing to help me.

So as I look at the creature in front of me, I can't help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe it's not enough, and maybe even with blood, ice, and void bearing against him he'll still be too powerful. The thing is, none of that matters. The only thing that does is that I have a chance to save the people I love and protect countless innocents.

What matters is that right here, in this moment, I fight with everything that I am for what I believe in.

So I look up at the monster that Sadon has become, and I let out one last, cold, misting breath.

"Alright," I say. "This ends now."

"Don't die too fast," Sadon taunts. "I want to enjoy this."

Before I can say anything else, he snaps into motion, taking one powerful step that launches him towards me in a single bound. The ground explodes where he was standing, and I barely finish blinking my eyes before he lands next to me in another explosion of stone. His arm arcs through the air in a long slapping motion aimed at my left side. Even with the exaggerated motion, his speed is sickening to behold. His attack carries enough strength to break every bone in my body and send my corpse flying through the air before I can even react.

Just like I thought he would.

By leaving my scythe's poll behind my back and the blade pointed diagonally at the ground on my right side, I had a huge opening on my left side. Even before he moved, I was shifting my stance, preparing for his blow. So as his slap comes at me, I plant the huge crescent blade into the ground as I crouch down on my left knee, raising my arm into a right angle with my palm open to block the blow.

Just before his palm hits me, a feeling rushes over me. It's a pang of both exhilaration and fear, powerful enough to cut time itself. It's the feeling of fighting for my life, knowing that this battle will decide everything. I take that feeling, the fire that springs into my mind, and I shove it into my armor's spells at the very last second, reinforcing the blood magic through my enchanted armor.

Sadon's monstrous hand, bigger than my head by a good margin with claws to match, slams into my left arm as I let out a defiant shout. My scythe digs into the ground as a wall of force slams into me, and stone explodes as I grip it tightly to reinforce my position. A numb, prickling scream echoes through every fiber of my arm, and I lose feeling in it for a moment, as the jarring force ripples through the rest of my body.

I stop Sadon's attack cold, and I don't give an inch. My feet are pushed into the stone of the ground along with my scythe, but I stop his hand, a fierce grin forming on my face as I push back with all my strength. Sadon's grotesquely grinning face falters, and I give another shout, pushing away his left hand with the force of my entire body as I step forward, leaving my scythe imbedded into the ground. Sadon's pushed off balance, leaving him wide open as I step in close, bringing my right palm forward towards his chest.

I imagine a power stronger than anything else I've created before forming in my palm, and my void magic moves to obey. Beams of purple energy are sucked into my palm from the air as it stabs towards his chest. I don't aim to be subtle or precise, but to match Sadon's raw strike with one of my own. I grab all the energy I can with almost reckless abandon in what little time I have, pouring the hot anger and desperation inside me into the spell.

My palm slams into his chest, and I let the spell go at the same exact moment.

Air screams as violet-black void energy tears reality in half with a blinding shockwave. Sadon's chest cracks as it's indented inward, scarlet and obsidian blood exploding from his back as the force travels completely through his chest cavity, liquidating his organs and bones before Sadon's body can even be thrown backwards. The aftershock of the force finally catches the rest of him, and Sadon disappears as he's thrown faster than a crossbow bolt into the ground. He slams into it with the crack of breaking stone. The ground explodes where he lands, kicking up a thick cloud of dust and spinning shrapnel that thickens in the air with each passing moment.

I gasp, pain shooting like lightning through my palm and up my arm, bringing exhaustion with it. The raw force of the spell contained almost an entire tenth of my mana, and using that much at once hurts. Somehow, my magic circuits hold though, merely being slightly frayed from the rush of pure power. Both arms ache with tingling numbness now, a heavy drop of sweat sliding down my face.

I blink away a small bout of dizziness, lowering my arms and walking backwards to my scythe. I grab it and draw it from the ground with one arm. It comes free from the stone with minimal effort, edges completely undulled by the stone. I search the dust cloud for movement with slow, heavy breaths.

It expands slowly, hanging in the air and obscuring my sight, so with a quick twist and flick of my scythe, I send a whirlwind of whistling air that cuts through the debris and clears the air.

Sadon comes into view, crouched with one hand against the ground while the other clutches his chest. Sticky blobs and strings of blood hang from his mouth, falling to the ground with each heavy breath. He coughs, spraying more onto the ground as he looks up at me, his eyeless face still finding me. Slowly, he stands up. his claws drooping from his wound.

His chest has a crater in it the width of my palm, his chitinous armor cracked and bent jaggedly inward. Even as I watch, though, it begins to move, popping outward with a sucking sound. His chest wound begins to reform, blood spitting out a few times as he regenerates the damage before my very eyes. A half dozen seconds later, and it looks completely fine, like nothing ever happened.

Voidborn are notorious for their regeneration, mending wounds and regrowing limbs in the middle of battles, and it looks like that trait carried over to Sadon.

"Well," I murmur, not too surprised. "That's not ideal."

His jaw unhinges, a snakelike tongue slipping over his bladed teeth.

"My turn," he growls.

There's a popping sound, and four tendrils emerge from his back. Each is long, and they position themselves in an "x" shape behind him. Each black tendril ends in a long, curved blade, giving Sadon a spider-like appearance as they writhe, flecks of black and red goop falling from them. The four tendrils move, points meeting up in front of Sadon, and I can feel him gathering his will. I swallow, preparing myself for a devastating void spell by falling into a crouch, ready to move at any moment.

But nothing happens.

I stare at him, heart pounding in my chest, waiting for some sort of sign, some shriek of power or beam of energy, but still nothing happens. Sadon's unhinged jaw slowly closes into a faint, earth shaking growl as he grits his teeth. He holds out his clawed hand to where his tendrils meet up at, muscles flexing in his arm as he redoubles his concentration.

But still nothing happens.

"Umm?" I ask, starting to feel a little ridiculous in my ready position.

Sadon growls something to himself, muscles flexing once again as he redoubles his efforts. There's not even a hint of magic coming from him though, and he lets out a roar, tendrils slashing the air in frustration. I don't know why he can't call forth his magic exactly, but it must have something to do with him having a new form. Maybe the void changing him physically was enough to mess up his usual process of creating a spell, or maybe magic circuits haven't formed in his void body because he's never used magic in his void form yet. Whatever the case, I aim to take advantage.

"Performance issues?" I ask as awkwardly as I possibly can, cutting Sadon's roar short.

He looks at me, gnashing his teeth as his tendrils whip through the air behind him furiously.

"It's nothing to be embarrassed about," I offer weakly, with a lopsided, mockingly sad smile. "I mean, Noxian psychopaths aren't really known for their self-control."

Air and space howl as he blurs towards me, smashing down with his fists clenched together over his head at me. I barely manage to sidestep, his fists crashing into the stone with an unearthly scream. The ground cracks and gives way underneath the blow, kicking up shards of shrapnel that slice through the air. They bounce of my clothes and skin harmlessly, my magic reinforcing both to a level beyond such a small concern. My right leg buckles underneath me, though, as the ground itself heaves from Sadon's strike, and my balance wavers.

The tendrils behind Sadon's back whistle through the air, stabbing at me. I twirl my scythe, parrying the first two as I regain my balance, but they return with heated fervor, attacking in unison this time. I twist my body and scythe at the same time as I jump into the air.

Two of the clawed tendrils stab into the width of my scythe blade as I intercept them before they can impale me. The third completely misses me as I jump, striking into the ground and cutting through stone with ease. The last one misses too, but it still manages to wing my leg, cutting through my legging and opening up a deep gash on my calf.

The two tendrils I block push me backwards, throwing me away now that I am in the air. I spin, ignoring my burning leg as I land in a slide, scrambling to my feet. Sadon closes the distance in the same time, meeting me with a storm of stabbing tendrils and slashing claws. I face a wall of flashing black metal, and a single stab of desperation dives through my heart.

This isn't something I can outthink or outplan, and so I don't even try.

I let my instincts take over.

My scythe twirls in my hands, singing through the air as my muscles react faster than thought, and I meet his storm of claws with a dance of blades. My feet move even as my blade parries a heavy slash of his talons, and I find myself twisting, sliding, and hopping between stabbing and swing tendrils. Adrenaline lights me on fire, and I somehow I manage to keep up as Sadon launches himself at me without thought or strategy.

Two tendrils sweep past my neck, almost slicing open my jugular. One of Sadon's claws crashes down, the poll of my scythe stopping the attack short. I flip over a kick and spin to avoid three more flailing tendrils, using the momentum to bring my scythe in an uppercut. I can feel the blade cut through his chest deep, but I don't have time to celebrate. Sadon uses the pain and retaliates by stabbing with all his appendages at the same time. They block me in, and with his enormous reach I have nowhere to go.

So I gather my will and energy, and push off with my foot, blinking high into the air. His stabbing attacks riddle the ground where I was even as his head tracks to the sky. My blink was more powerful than I intended, sending me soaring through the air some more, and so I take advantage. I twist my fall, pointing a hand out toward Sadon below me.

"Hail," I command, calling out to my ice magic.

Frost heeds my call, frozen shards of ice forming into spears in the air around me and hurtling toward Sadon with speed that rivals that of a ballistae. Ice stabs into Sadon's body, and he howls, slashing at the projectiles as he tries to shatter them before they hit him. I begin to fall, but I don't let up on the ice spears. I fall among the shards, grabbing my scythe with both hands, and I twist my body into a spin.

I gain speed as I hurtle towards the ground, scythe blade whipping faster and faster around me as spears keep Sadon's arms raised defensively while his tendrils cut them from the air. I time my twirling fall almost perfectly, and my scythe blade falls with guillotine strength into Sadon's arms.

There's a slight jolt in my blade as I cut through the bone of his forearms, my blade slicing almost halfway through the width of them. The tip smashes into the ground with a boom of breaking stone, and I pull it free quickly as he roars, dropping his arms to his sides so he can see me. He snaps a kick at me, and I plant my scythe into the ground and jump, matching it with a double kick of my own. Our blows meet with roughly the same force negating the blow, and I fall to the ground, spinning my scythe above my head as his tentacles begin raining down quick, stabbing strikes.

I parry most of them, but a few make it through, cutting thin lines into my arms even through my spell-reinforce gloves. One in particular stabs through and strikes me in the shoulder, stabbing deep. I let out a short scream as it pulls itself free in a small spray of blood. I manage to catch it with my scythe before it returns, though, and I cut the tendril's blade clean from it, producing a spray of it's own blood.

Pain screams in my shoulder with sharp, lightning intensity, and Sadon pushes in, unphased by the loss of one tentacle as he launches a continuous flurry of attacks at me, his arm joining. I have no choice but to back away, parrying blows with my scythe and dodging others. My right arm loathes every movement I make, and I can feel my back slicken with blood.

Sparks explode into existence as Sadon and I fight in a nauseating blur of speed. I can't escape his onslaught, and he follows me with every dancing step and jump. All I can clearly see is Sadon sharp teeth, his grin slowly growing as pain grows in my shoulder. I desperately go for any retaliatory strike I can, trying to use Sadon's confidence against him, but he doesn't shy away from the blows. My attacks only open up thin cuts in his armored flesh, and each one heals quickly. Even the cut along his chest and the one on his forearms are mostly healed, the new flesh quivering with excitement.

My breaths turn heavy, my feet landing heavier and heavier as exhaustion begin to take hold of me. Sadon uses his tentacles to box me in, stabbing around me instead of at me to keep me from escaping. I don't dare blink with the speed they stab at for fear of a lucky hit from him landing, but as my wounded calf gives out beneath a strong slash from Sadon, I realize I need to do something.

Sadon's slash brings me low to the ground, and I get an idea. I dash not away but toward him, sliding under him and bringing the crescent of my scythe blade behind me. I push off with as much force as I can and make it to the other side, either side of my blade biting into flesh behind me. I turn to face him just as something hot flashes across my left side above my hip.

I gasp, tears in my eyes as one of Sadon's tendrils slashes through my flesh with ease. I reply with a flick of my blade that catches it before it can return, and another of Sadon's tendrils gets cut in half. I stumble backwards as Sadon spins, facing me with a grim smile. He pauses his attack, also breathing heavily, and I eagerly step away, placing my right hand against my side as I look at the wound.

A lot of blood comes from the wound, caking everything below my left hip in scarlet. The soaked side of my skirt drips a heavy tear of blood at regular intervals, and I groan. putting painful pressure on the wound. That only makes my right shoulder hurt more, though, and so I ease up, trying to even out the amounts of pain to bearable levels.

Alone, either one of the wounds would be worthy to take someone out of a fight. Together, I'm surprised I'm still standing. My blood magic, channeled through my conjured clothes, is probably the only thing keeping me together. Still, blinding hot pain bites at the edges of my vision, and I have to blink away the spots of light that threaten to rob me of consciousness.

I focus on my wounds, biting back curses as I actively pour energy into my wounds. My flesh moves in a nauseating fashion, knitting itself back together. It's a whole new meaning of pain for me as I force myself to regenerate as fast as I can, the brief moment seared into memory with painful detail. I gasp as the seconds pass, tears falling freely as I pant, standing slowly.

Sadon growls lightly as I touch my wounds lightly, finding new but tender skin over both my shoulder and side through the layers of blood. My arms and legs shake, and I can feel myself beginning to truly reach my limits. Maybe half my energy is left to bear against Sadon, and if I don't think of something fast, I'm not going to have enough left to keep up with him.

Sadon's breathing slows down to a steady pant, and he rolls his shoulders once. His wounds both small and major finish healing, and even his two tendrils have grown back with blades as sharp as ever. He smiles, eyeing me as I try to catch a breath, clutching my scythe tightly. He moves forward with calculated, steady steps, and I don't dare back away for fear of being caught off balance.

His tendril blades give him a major advantage over me, and he knows it. I can't keep track of six different attacks at once, especially when each hand has five blades each. If it weren't for my blood magic, I doubt I would have kept up with his relentless attacks. I can dance in a blur of sparks and claws for minutes, but it still won't get me anywhere with those tendrils protecting him.

My eye catches movement past Sadon, and I follow to see Seth standing there. He's incredibly pale, shaking with unsteadiness, but he has his axe lifted high above his head, and he prowls slowly towards Sadon, each step careful to be all but noiseless in the still night. My heart pitter-patters in both pride and fear as I realize Seth is going for Sadon's tentacles, seeing that they're giving me the most problem. He can barely stand from the looks of it, but that's not stopping him from trying.

My heart ignites, and I tighten my grip on my scythe. I need to buy Seth time to get in position, and to do that I need to keep Sadon where he is. That means facing him head on for as long as it takes for Seth to get an opportunity. I swallow, staring at the voidborn in front of me as my heart pounds worry into my bones.

My eyes happen to trace over my brother's bloody, broken form, and everything comes into focus.

Every vivid memory flashes through my mind at once the moment I see my wounded brother, my dying brother. Every second of suffering, every last taunt, cut, beatdown, and tear, every second of being branded, every ounce of betrayal and shame, it fills me to the point where every ounce of me hurts. My will forms through the fear into one objective, one longing that I need to fulfil like I need to breathe:

Kill Sadon.

I let out a shout, closing the distance between me and the monster with a scream and shout, eyes blurring with tears of vengeance. I pour all my killing intent into the spellcloth and steel I wield. A purple aura glows from my clothes, every tear and rip repairing even as my scythe blade is engulfed in purple-black voidfire, a living darkness burning that makes the night look bright as the sun in comparison.

Sadon roars, meeting me halfway, and sound warps as metal meets metal.

Everything blurs together in a hazy image, each moment of battle seemingly lasting forever and passing instantaneously at the same time. I dance through his blows like never before, not even having to parry a single attack. Sadon's forced on the defensive, blocking my attacks with his claws. Even still, the small cuts and slices I manage to land eat away at his armor and flesh, the voidfire spreading along his wounds with gleeful hunger.

Sadon howls in pain as the voidfire encounters his regenerating flesh, and he redoubles his attacks against me. I meet his rain of blades with my speed and scythe, never stopping my momentum for a second. Each attack spills into the next move, an elegant dance of death that Sadon is barely able to stop. So many sparks begin to fill the air as that I can barely see him through the attacks, but I don't let up.

I push every muscle and bone and my body, screaming internally with all my rage and sorrow. My body cries out in agony at the torture but complies all the same, muscles fraying and tearing as I push beyond my limits with hate fueled blade magic.

I don't know how long we stay locked in combat, how long we parry and dodge by a hair's width. It seems like an eternity, but it can't be more than a minute or two. Even still, I push everything I have at Sadon, and he's having a hard time keeping up.

My movement comes to a jarring stop as Sadon catches my scythe, wrapping both hands around the pole. I let out an exhausted gasp, trying weakly to wrench it from his vice-like grip to no avail. I watch between sweat soaked strands of hair as his tendrils coil back like vipers preparing to strike.

Then I hear a shout, and shadowy black magic explodes from Sadon's back. He lets out a scream even as his tendrils fall to the ground, and he twists to view his new assailant. I see Seth standing there, his shadowy magic wrapped around his axe head, and he gives a weak smile at me just before Sadon lets go of my scythe with one hand and slaps him at full, howling strength.

Seth's body flies limply through the air as a shrill scream pierces the night.

Everything slows down, as Seth hits the ground hard, skidding to a stop. I'm able to see in agonizing detail every misshapen joint, every piece of torn flesh and fractured bone of his broken body. His eyes are still open, the faintest of light left in them. Blood runs from his mouth and nose even as he give a weak smile, his teeth stained crimson.

That's when I finally realize that the scream is coming from me

It's also when I realize that the person responsible is literally right in front of me.

I try to wrench my scythe free from the monster's grasp so I can decapitate him with one clean swing, but he holds firm, turning to face me. I snarl, pain, fear, and sorrow hot and wet on my face as I give a sharper tug, and it comes free, sending me stumbling back. The creature smiles at me, but I don't give it the chance to so much as breathe before I lift my hand and point a finger at him.

The spell that forms in my mind is one I've never created before. It's only possible purpose is death with no other redeeming quality about it. I want it to kill, and I want it to be painful. I want it with every pounding heartbeat and pulse of my soul, and my origin responds. The spell sucks in every memory of what I've been through in an instant and responds with howling power that tears at my very sanity to behold. It years to be released, to get vengeance on those who have hurt me, and only one command fits it's nature.

"Reap!" I scream.

Sound itself distorts, everything but the spell becoming silent as it consumes all in its path. Purple lightning sparks around my fingertip as a vortex of purple light forms, sucking energy into a black orb of pure void magic in a quarter second before exploding forth in a beam that destroys the very air it touches. Darkness screams with an unearthly deep, bass sound, and the entire world darkens as the void beam splits through the night. It engulfs Sadon, his form only providing a slight resistance to the energy.

As my scream dies, the beam thins until it disappears into nothingness, leaving behind the sharp, stinging smell of burnt ozone. My vision falters as energy fades, and I barely stay standing at the sudden toll. The spell drains a huge amount of energy from me, more than any other pure combat spell I have. Maybe twenty percent of my mana just vanishes, but when my eyes clear, I can see it was well worth it.

Sadon Stands up slowly from the crouch he was forced in. His right arm is gone, completely disintegrated by the void beam. A huge gauge is carved in his back, and I realize he must have turned away, blocking the brunt of my spell with his arm. A stream of blood falls from his arm, and his back is a soaking mess of destroyed flesh and muscle. He gives a short gasp, staggering as his balance leaves him for a moment.

I see Seth move from where he lays on the ground, turning over onto his back with heaving gasps. He's tough as nails to take a hit like that head on and still be able to move, but I doubt he's going to be able to help out anymore in this fight.

So I growl, lifting my scythe as I run towards him. This is my chance to finish it. The aches and pain throughout my body don't matter, and I can handle the exhaustion. I have to use this opportunity before he regenerates. I have to do this.

I sprint past Sadon's left side just as he recovers, spinning with my scythe blade at my right hip, and I slice through his right thigh in a spray of blood. Sadon howls, twisting around to see me, but his wounded right leg gives out beneath him, stopping his motion halfway. I take advantage, executing an overhead slice at his head. He recoils, but my large scythe still catches some of his face, opening up a thin line from where his eye should be to his chin before continuing down into his torso. The chitin protects him from most of the blow, and I only cut an inch or so deep.

Sadon retaliates with a frantic, flailing hand that I parry with a quick sidestep and spin of my scythe. I pirouette once, and my scythe digs a horizontal furrow through his chest, blade cutting through bones with little resistance. He gives another howl, and I catch a brief glimpse of his right arm regenerating already. It's beginning to reform in a withered ghost of what it once looked like, and only the bones and flesh have finished so far.

I need to end this quick, but Sadon seems determined to buy time, punching me with his left arm. Even with my scythe's poll blocking for me, the force still sends me sliding back, and I rock dangerously back on my heel as I stop myself short. Sadon Stands up with a growl, long tendrils forming that wrap around his withered right arm, adding mass. He stands, blood dripping from his teeth as he gasps, his right thigh just finishing its regeneration process.

I pour energy into my scythe, and the blade glows hungrily with violet, fiery light.

"Reap!" I command, snapping the blade in a slash from where I stand.

A crescent wave of inky purple energy shrieks from my scythe towards Sadon, and he slaps it with his left hand to parry it out of the air. It works, but the condensed energy is considerably sharper and more potent than he expects, and two of his fingers spin off his hand as the crescent is deflected into the night sky.

I run at him, but my legs falter slightly as exhaustion threatens to overtake me, giving Sadon ample time to prepare himself. He slashes with his three remaining claws, and I have to whirl my scythe to protect myself. Both of us are considerably slower as we engage each other once again, each attack leaving us gasping and heaving as we try to move into the next. I push as hard as I can though, my head throbbing with pain at the exertion.

Sadon begins to give up on defense, and I cut into his armor with each strike, chopping into him as I try to reach flesh. He tries to drive me back with purely offensive attacks, but I don't falter either even as he opens up a long cut on my cheek followed by one along my left hip. We trade a dozen little cuts as I look for an opportunity to finish him. Both of us tire quickly, and a kick from Sadon sends me tumbling out of range.

Pain cracks through my body as my muscles and bones take the blunt attack, and I bounce off the stone ground once before I land on my feet. My ribs feel funny, and a sudden tightness makes it harder to breathe. Still, I force myself to face Sadon, blinking away tears, blood, and sweat.

The creature that is Sadon stares at me from where he stands, his shoulders heaving with each breath. His right arm looks to have given up on regenerating completely, like he's hit his limit too. All he has for a right hand is a single, vicious blade that looks to be carved out of the bone of his forearm. Blood gushes from a dozen other little wounds that refuse to heal on him, and he lets out a low, tired growl.

I'm so close. Just a little bit more and-

Sadon turns suddenly, and with speed I wouldn't have expected starts running. I move to follow, not willing to let him escape. He smiles as he looks back at me, changing his course to send him in a diagonal direction, and my stomach flips as I see him heading straight towards Seth. He raises his single blade right arm, aiming a careful uppercut at Seth's helpless body.

Sadon knows he can't beat me in a fair fight, not after taking so much damage, so he's stopped playing fair. He's going to make sure at least one person dies before he does just so he can die knowing I suffered.

I won't let that happen.

I ditch my scythe as I sprint with all the speed I can muster, desperately pushing energy into my enchantments to help me. I blur through the air, but even still I'm not fast enough. Sadon's blade nears Seth, too close for me to stop. Unless…

I throw myself forward in a miniature blink, ending it right in front of Seth, and Sadon's blade arm stabs through my stomach with a squelch.

"No!" Seth screams, but it's already done.

I gasp as red takes over my vision, my stomach screaming in pain even if I can't. It robs me of breath, and I can feel the blade sticking through me, impaling me all the way through. Every breath I take shifts my flesh against the blade with slicing agony. Then the blade starts to lift me slowly, and I cry out as gravity pushes me down against the sharp edge.

I blink away tears and the sharp pain, barely able to see at all. I'm met with the image of Sadon smiling face as he lifts my body into the air. I can feel the blood rushing out of my stomach and back, and it takes all my strength to lift my hands to the blade. I push on it to lift myself slightly, relieving the pressure from gravity even as I slice my hands open.

"You claim mercy to be your strength," Sadon sneers. "But it is your weakness, Ionian."

Blood rises in my throat, and I gurgle, head pounding as sharp pain robs me of concentration and thought. I try to push myself up further, but I only succeed in deepening the cuts in my hands. My body feels heavy, and a darkness begins to encroach on my pain colored vision. Something numb and warm tickles at the back of my mind, my eyelids fluttering. I twitch one of my legs, and a sharp spike of torment brings me back to awareness.

So this is what it feels like to die.

Death has never particularly scared me. I've never had trouble having faith in where I go afterwards. The hard part for me has always been figuring out why I should live, why I should keep fighting if the world is just going to bring forth new forms of torture to combat my every attempt. The only thing that's really ever been worth fighting for is my family, but now…

I rest my eyes for a moment with a gurgling sigh.

Maybe it's time for me to rest.

I open my eyes for one last time, looking around as Sadon keeps me lifted high, blood pouring from me with each passing heartbeat. I see my brother's bloody body, but more than that, I can see his face from where I am. He looks at me, his consciousness regained, and his eyes are wide and teary, teeth set in a determined grimace as he desperately tries to get up. He makes it to his hands and knees, crawling towards me with a quivering chin.

I flick my vision to my side, where Seth lays. He looks up at me with a tear stained face, forming words that I can't hear. He tries to rise to his feet, but one of his legs is clearly broken. He falls back down, and he slams his fist against the ground with a silent cry of frustration.

I return to Sadon's smiling face, made even more grotesque by the vertical cut I landed on it. It looks painful, and I can see pulsing flesh beneath the carapace skin. It seems unfair that I came so close to killing him only to die like this, but…

If I'm sacrificing myself for someone I care about, then it really isn't much of a sacrifice, is it?

"My only regret," Sadon whispers. "Is that you won't get to see your little friends die."

My eyes lock onto Sadon, fury giving birth to something powerful and ugly inside me. It grows with a yearning power, a passion that gives birth to one last final push of will. The pain turns from a hinderance into something else, something that hones my senses and anger, and the hate I have for Sadon suddenly becomes stronger than anything else.

I snarl at him with that hate, spitting blood as I grasp his blade arm tighter. I was willing to let him win, to let him kill me in exchange for everyone else, but the thought of him finishing off my brother and Seth hurts more than anything I've ever felt before, even the mark on my-

Oh.

"H-hey," I gurgle, narrowing my eyes at Sadon. "I j-just r-realized something."

"That this is where you die?" Sadon laughs.

"N-no," I spit. "Th-that there's one o-other thing I haven't b-been conjuring."

I lift my hand to my face, and call forth my remaining power to summon a helmet, or, in this case, a mask. Sadon moves as if he's unaffected by pain even though he feels it, something not unheard of among creatures of the void. I think it's high time I embrace that aspect of the void.

So I call forth my magic, creating enchantments on the fly that will use blood magic to help me ignore my wounds, to let me concentrate. Purple light swirls in my hand, condensing into a mask identical to the visage on my back, and it sticks to my face, my pain disappearing in an instant.

It's an odd sensation. For the first time, I can clearly feel every cut, scrape, ache, bruise, and any other wound I have. I know their exact locations, severity, and how much blood I'm losing from each, and I can feel a dozen little wounds I didn't realize I'd taken in the fight. The thing is, the pain seems like a distant thing, something to take note of but nothing that can really affect me.

I let out a growl, adjusting myself into a more comfortable position on the blade arm as I stare at Sadon's eyeless, cracked face. I have enough mana left for another one of my reap spells, and at this point, it doesn't really matter if my body can handle it. If I'm going to die, I'm taking this Noxian waste of life with me. I lift my arm, pointing my right finger at the slice I created in his face before, and Sadon's smile drops completely in something akin to horror. He pulls back on the blade, trying to slide me off of it so he can back away.

"No," I spit, power behind the word.

Ice suddenly forms where my left hand is, sticking me to the blade, and Sadon has nowhere to go as I summon me memories, my pain, my hate, and my killing intent for one last spell. Purple light swirls around my finger, and I can't help but give a grim smile.

"Reap."

A purple black beam explodes from my finger in another beam, drowning out Sadon's scream. His head disintegrates from the sheer, focused void magic, and by the time the beam fades, everything above his collarbone is simply gone.

His headless body spasms, and ice cracks as the blade is jerked free from my stomach. Distant pain heralds the damage it does, but I don't care. I fall to the ground, a gurgling chuckle in my throat as I watch his body flail for a moment before dropping to the ground. A few twitches later, and it stops completely.

Sadon's dead.

Zane and Seth won't die now.

Molly and Fairfax get to live.

Xander and Devon's sacrifice won't be for nothing.

Arms wrap around me, and I dimly realize that Seth is holding my in his arms, my head resting against his right bicep. He sits there, weeping as he looks down at me, and his tears make faint pattering sounds as they fall on my mask. I reach up slowly, removing it so I can see him better. Strangely, the pain doesn't return to me, just a great, blanket like numbness. I smile up at him.

"It's okay," I whisper eyelids gaining weight. "It's finally over."

I look to my side and see that Zane has crawled over, looking at me. I give him a weak nod, coughing slightly. He blanches, clenching his teeth tightly and looking away, his eyes squeezed shut. I let out a tired sigh, breath choking in my throat.

I'm tired.

I let my head rest back in Seth's arms, looking over the horizon. Light begins to shine, and it takes me a second to realize it's the sun rising. Then, the most amazing thing happens.

Small flares of light start to rise into the sky, exploding with distant pops and cracks. Blue light sings forth from the fireworks, and their meaning is clear to me immediately:

Ionia won the League match, and this is the first dawn of free Ionia.

We're free.

Warm, happy tears cascade down my cheeks a laugh bubbling somewhere deep inside me. We did it. We won, and I got to live to see Ionia first free dawn in almost fifteen years. My eyes flutter, threatening to close, but a shaking jolt brings them back open.

"Stay with us, Aria," Seth pleads, shaking me lightly. "Stay with us."

"I'm tired," I respond simply, and Seth's expression wobbles.

"There has to be something we can do," I hear my brother say faintly. "Wait. Our blood. Drink it. It helped you before, right?"

"N-" I start to say, interrupted by a cough of red mist. "No. Both of you… lost too much… and I don't know… if I could stop myself anyway."

"You can take some from both of us!" Seth says quickly. "Here, star-

"No!" I say more firmly. "No. I can't… I couldn't live knowing I killed one of you."

A silence settles on us, and I force myself to look at Zane first and then Seth, giving my best warm, reassuring smile.

"It's okay," I whisper, meaning the words more than they could possibly know.

Something cold falls from the sky, and I look up. Even with the sun shining through, soft flakes of white snow have begun falling. The rays of light make them glitter like gems. I never realized how cold it was out here, but now I can feel it. My blood feels slow and heavy, frozen tendrils making me start to shiver.

"C-cold," I whisper more to myself than anyone, but suddenly I feel Seth take my hand, holding it tightly.

I can feel his warmth, and it sends tingly little prickles of happiness up my arm. I smile at him, thankful that I get to feel his hand one last time.

"Aria," Seth chokes out. "I can't let you die. I lo-"

"Seth," I interrupt, my voice so faint I can barely hear it, but my serious eyes stop him in his tracks. "D… don't."

His lips tremble, but he nods, relief flooding through me. I couldn't let him finish, or my death would only weigh on him that much more. He'll find someone else, I'm sure of it. He's a good man. Maybe even the best.

I turn my head, doing my best to pretend I can't hear my brother or Seth's sobs. I watch the sun rise higher and higher, soft, blanket like warmth washing over me. It feels soft and comfortable, so I embrace it, closing my eyes as it embraces me.

Blissful nothingness beckons, and I fall into it with a thankful sigh.