Chapter 6 – Is She Hope?

The thunder intensified, booming deafeningly across the realm. Lightning whipped across the abyssal coloured skies and shone brighter and angrier than the twin moons of Nirn.

Athenasia refused to look back, refused to gaze upon the giant castle. She knew that life was over. Forever. Clutching Vulcan tightly she pounded her wings hard and sailed through the soaked air, steadying herself against the gale force winds.

"Athenasia!" Vulcan shouted over the roar of the storm. "Drop me and turn back! You can't—"

"Hush Vulcan," she replied, her eyes peeled on her path before her, "it's too late for that. I've made my decision. I know that, you know that and my father definitely knows that."

Vulcan stared at the young Daedra. Even after all these years, she still managed to surprise him. He dripped his injured arm tightly and pressed his lips together, slowly accepting her decision.

Cracks of lightning burst from the sky inching ever closer to her and the Dremora. She did her best to swerve out of harm's way, though light seemed to travel quicker than her. A long flash of white light spiralled upon her, crashing atop her right wing. Almost losing her grip of Vulcan she tumbled downwards. Desperate, she flapped as hard as her body would allow, trying to gain altitude to avoid tumbling the stone-like ground.

Athenasia clenched her teeth together, fighting through the pain, however it was to no avail; the lightning had ripped a fissure through her the leathery part of her wing. No matter how hard she strained, she could feel gravity pull them down to its embrace. She glanced down at Vulcan who was staring back at her. Planting a sweet, soft kiss on his forehead, she folded her great wings around them both and held him protectively to her.

"I won't lose you again." Was the last words she whispered before colliding harshly with Coldharbour's icy, dead surface.

-oOo-

Vulcan shuddered awake. The rain was still pelting down severely; his pitch black hair was drenched and clung to his face and the back of his neck. The droplets slid off his glowing red armour, such as a waterfall. His right arm was stiff and ached violently. He grunted, forcing the pain down as best he could. He rolled over and pushed himself into the lazy sitting position. His vision would blur slightly when he shifted his head.

The grinding movement of gravel caught his attention suddenly. He stumbled to his feet, steadying his faulty balance. Waves of light-headedness and fatigue rolled over him; he wanted nothing more than to fall back down and close his eyes, but they lay on a small mound. Cautiously he moved towards it, his eyes widening and his bright red heart pounding furiously. He attempted to run to the motionless figure of Athenasia, although his consciousness threatened to overwhelm him. Her back was facing him and her wings were sprawled out around her. Staggering to a painfully slow pace to keep himself awake he made his way to her, dropping to his knees once she was only a few feet away. He crawled the rest of the way, ripping his Daedric gauntlets off and tossing them to one side.

"My Lady?" he cooed softly. When she didn't respond, he gently laid his hands on her limp form.

His deep black eyes adjusted to the darkness as well as the pouring rain soaking his face. Upon closer inspection, he saw that her once mighty and magnificent wings lay almost lifeless-like; battered, torn and broken. Bones protruded from the thin membranes and large, deep bruises and swelling blotched around them, drenched in rainwater and vampiric blood. The red liquid oozed steadily from her; slowly taking her soul with it. He shook her slightly, panic rising within him.

"My Lady?" he whispered again, resting a dark hand on her fair face. He took a moment to admire the beauty in the contrast, before reaching for his glowing red and ebony coloured sword. "Forgive me." He uttered gruffly before casting it down towards her.

The immensely sharp blade slashed through the joints where her wings met his shoulder blades with swift and silent ease. The broken limbs lay completely lifeless and painfully still beside Athenasia. He sheathed his weapon, shame rolling through his mind.

"I'm sorry, my Lady. I don't know what else I could've done to…" He let out a long breath.

Placing a hand on her chest he felt her heartbeat. It was slow and very, very faint; but it was there. He slid his hand to cup the side of her face. Her expression was so…peaceful. Eyelids closed gently, long, dark lashes curled above her cheeks, which were the slightest bit flushed. Her full, tinted pink-red lips were parted exposing the white of her front teeth. Her jaw was perfectly angled, joining her swan-like neck. Her raven hair was soaked and stuck determined to the sides of her face. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth, mixing with the clear water, making it run down one half of her face.

She was truly beautiful. More suited to being a majestic Aedra…in looks only. Vulcan dragged his eyes from her face to her newly cropped wings. Raising his hands, he summoned his power from within, concentrating intensely. His palms warmed and a slow, steady flow of flames ejected onto the wounds on her shoulders, sterilising them. The open gashes covered in black char, the bleeding ceasing.

"You've always given me trouble." He muttered gently and somewhat affectionately.

Vulcan slid his right arm under her legs, doing his best to ignore the pain while he cradled her back with his left arm. Forcing himself to stand, he carried her bridal style and assessed his environment. He usually knew his surroundings, he had been nearly all over Coldharbour; but the heavy rain disorientated him and he felt lost. He was afraid of what Molag Bal would do to them if he found them—although his real concern was for Athenasia. She had left behind a comfortable life for him. He shut his eyes, letting out an extended sigh. It was his fault. He never should have returned. He should have left her to live and forget he ever existed.

But he…couldn't. The part of him that warned him against this plan was overruled by the desire to see her again. He could never understand what made him want to, all that he knew was she gave his life some sort of purpose. For a Dremora, they do nothing but serve their lords and ladies. But she…she was different. He felt a tug of connection between them. Seeing her everyday made it all worthwhile, and when Molag and Athenasia left him on Nirn it was the first time he felt…useless. Alone. Insignificant.

His eyelids slowly opened and he raised his head to the black, angry sky. He shook his head, droplets of water sprayed from his hair. He was going to save her. He was not going to fail again. He was not going to fail her again. Gripping her close to his body he stumbled aimlessly through the pelting rain and the roar of the storm in search for a refuge somewhere. A cave, a ruin, anything. Even though his demonic eyes could see expertly well, the rain cancelled out any hope of his enhanced sight. He trudged on, speaking softly to Athenasia's limp body, assuring her she'd be safe with him. He knew she was unconscious and barely alive, though he talked on.

What felt like hours passed by. Vulcan's legs were stiff and cold, his right arm had nearly completely gone numb and his words became shaky and unsteady. His feet dragged across the iron hard ground and his eyes were drooped with fatigue. His breathing quickened and his head began to spin again. But still, he held Athenasia tightly, refusing to give up on her.

The beating of the rain against his ebony skin began to lose its feeling. He was still faintly aware that it was storming hard, but his ears would no longer listen. Time appeared to slow and all he could hear was his heartbeat and his breathing. He blinked lazily and he suddenly appeared to be on the ground. A sharp pain split through one side of his head but he was too tired to take any notice to it. He turned his head slightly to see Athenasia's sleeping face right in front of his. She was so peaceful. So beautiful. He wanted nothing more than to take her away from this now dangerous place and protect her forever. He lifted a shaky hand to her face and rubbed some of the rain away from her cheek with his thumb. He was slipping from his own consciousness. He desperately tried to keep his eyes open, but to no avail.

The last thing he saw was an immensely bright white light standing over the two of them. A figure. Of who, he had now idea. The figure leaned down, a white, glowing hand reaching for them. He attempted to meet the hand with his own, but it fell onto Athenasia's neck with a faint thud.