The dragon above the ziggurat circled slowly around casting an ominous shadow across the land. Morgan feared that it would make a move against her, but it seemed content with remaining in the sky for now.
As she got a better look at it, the young Exalt noticed that the creature looked like it was growing and becoming more ''corporeal'' as time passed. Morgan speculated that the reason for the dragon's inactivity was because Grima had still not managed to finish his ritual (but he was damn near close to it).
With a rising urgency, the young Exalt rushed towards the top leaving the recent battleground behind her. While she wanted to investigate Severa's condition more thoroughly, she knew that it was little else she could do for her sister and time was of the essence.
She did not meet any further resistance on her way to the top, but she could hear some commotion down the steps. It seemed that the soldiers stationed at the bottom of the ziggurat had noticed that they had an intruder behind them. Morgan guessed that they were on their way towards the top. A problem she would have to deal later.
As she reached the summit of the ziggurat, blade drawn and ready, she saw him.
The avatar of Grima hovered a few feet above the ground, hands outstretched and in deep trancelike state. Sorcerous lightning crackled from his body and into the sky above. The ritual had taken a heavy toll on his host body. The only human part that remained was his vaguely humanoid shape and a small area around his right eye that still retained some human skin. His jaw was twisted in an unnatural angle after the growth of the two eyes beneath his left. Something that looked like a third arm or claw had grown out beneath his right arm. The rest had degraded into a shrivelled husk of a body with a few scrabs of clothing covering the most vital areas.
The Fire Emblem hovered in front of him, it was cracked and blackened as if someone had thrown it into a furnace. Yet the gems shone brightly emanating beams of light that shone into the heavens.
Morgan cautiously approached him, warry if he would suddenly cast any spells while she was still a good distance away.
As she neared him, his body rapidly twitched around with a sickening cracking sound before focusing on her. Something resembling a smile appeared in his ruined face before he abruptly descended to the ground along with the Fire Emblem that unceremoniously fell with an audible noise.
The sorcerous lightning ceased, but residues of the magic could still be seen as a purple mist surrounding the area. It was fortunate that the moon could still offer a bit of illumination.
Yet Morgan halted and held Falchion in a defensive stance, she would suffer no surprises from the dark.
Grima landed on his feet and proceeded to stand up, as he rose his upper body continued to twitch in random motions. Each movement was accompanied with the same sickening cracking sound.
''Soo…The child of Naga survived. It matters not…You're too late! The ritual is as good as done! I finally have a form, even if you strike this body down. My body above shall endure and feast on the souls of all in the world! Staring with your pathetic army in Plegia! Oh yes, I shall devour all you worms and destroy your pitiful excuse of a kingdom. Your bones shall make a fitting corner stone of my new world order.''
Despite his malformed jaw, the avatar of Grima spoke with a clear high voice.
''You talk too much.''
Having determined that no one else was hiding in the summit, Morgan wasted no time rushing Grima, doing so with a pace that surprised herself. Tharja's sorcery had ensured that she bolted towards the Fell Dragon with an almost inhuman speed and agility. Grima reacted quickly and with a swift motion cast a fireball at her direction, she had anticipated this and swiftly evaded it without losing her momentum. Another ball of fire was cast, this one reached her more rapidly. Thinking quickly, she held Falchion up with its broadside facing the fiery spell. It blocked most of it, but Morgan could feel the fireball had seared some part of her fingers as well as other peripheral areas of her body.
She did not care. It was all or nothing now.
Holding Falchion with both of her hands, she swung her blade as soon as she was within reach. Grima stepped back in order to evade her attack but was too slow and the young Exalt succeeded in cutting his left hand off. It fell to the ground, twitching a bit before the flesh seemed to evaporate, leaving a skeletal hand behind.
There was no blood, only dust.
The avatar of Grima screamed in pain, joined with an ear shattering shriek from his body above. It was an unnatural scream that contained the voices of dozens of souls. Young, old, men and women.
An amalgam of centuries of possession of mortal hosts.
The sounds stopped Morgan from giving the Fell Dragon another blow. Pain flared up around her chest and it took all her willpower to retain her grip around the sword.
Grima's scream soon changed into a maniacal laughter.
''HaHAhAHA!...OH! HoW I WiLL mISs THis! The PAin! The PLEASUre of tHe FleSH! YoUr EfForTS arE FuTile GIrL!''
The Fell Dragon held out his wounded stump and within seconds a new limb sprang out. It moved like a worm out in the rain before solidifying into a clawed hand. Her opponent was over her immediately, Morgan narrowly managed to block his claws with Falchion. The young mage noticed how this new hand was scaled like a wyvern. It was durable too; Falchion barely made a scratch on it.
They exchanged blows for a while with Morgan managed to score a few cuts here and there, but this didn't seem to slow the avatar of Grima. His wounds would always close again as soon as they were made, replaced with the same scaly tissue that covered his left hand. This was a battle of attrition that she could not hope to win.
It was clear that Grima was merely playing with her.
Falchion scarcely had an effect on him at all.
Shield…You need the shield…
A gentle male voice spoke to her. Where it came from, she did not know, but it made her turn a quick gaze towards the discarded Fire Emblem on the ground.
It was only a few dozen feet away from her.
Blocking another attack from Grima, Morgan gave the creature a kick to create a bit of distance. As he staggered away from her, Morgan made a quick turn and sprinted towards the shield. She managed to pick it up and turn around to face her opponent once more. Grima had not pursued her, instead he had watched her actions with a certain amount of amusement.
''YoU tHiNk tHat WOulD SaVE yOu GIrl?''
The Fire Emblem was indeed a pitiful sight. Blacked and filled with cracks, even the gems seemed dull and lifeless now. Morgan doubted the Emblem could even serve as a regular shield, but she was desperate for anything.
Suddenly she heard the familiar sound of clanking armour, from the mist several soldiers came out and surrounded her.
She had been too slow and now she was trapped.
Yet the soldiers seemed off…Their stare was blank, and their stance swayed back and forth not unlike the drunkards one would see near the local bar. And then it was the silence. There was no shouting from these men, nor any call for her to surrender.
They all just stood there menacingly, awaiting the command of their God.
It would be foolish of her to believe that she could prevail against such overwhelming odds. Yet she did not despair. If she should fall today, it would be with sword in hand.
Naga…Call for Naga…
There was that voice again. Morgan wondered where it came from but decided to continue to heed it. What else could she do but hope for a divine intervention?
She held Falchion and the Fire Emblem close to herself and began to pray.
Grima for his part began to laugh.
''ThiNk sHe CaN hEaR yOu giRl? Or HaVE YoU FinAlLy sURRENdered to dESPair?''
Morgan ignored him, even as he slowly approached her, even as the flesh on his body began to peel off – replaced with more scaled flesh. The avatar of Grima appeared more monstrous by the minute, as he finally shed the last vestiges of his former host.
''Merciful Naga…Hear my prayer, aid you people...''
Morgan could feel a familiar warmth in her chest.
''It's UseLesS GirL! ThIS is My DOmAin! I'M THE ONLY GOD HERE!''
''Oh, merciful Naga, mother to us all, aid you daughter, aid me in my hour of need!''
A faint humming sound could be heard from the shield, followed with a clear glow from the Emblem. Even in this dark place, Morgan could feel the blessing of Naga embracing her once again.
Grima was now a mere few feet away from her, as he moved to deliver his final blow, the glow from the shield evolved into an all-blinding light, stopping him in his tracks.
Again, the Fell Dragon screamed in pain, as Naga forcibly dragged all of the fell dragon's essence back into his host body. The sudden strain proved too much for his mortal body and it began to violently mutate and bloat. His dragon form above screeched and began to dissipate.
Now my child! Before he recovers!
Urged by Naga's voice, Morgan grabbed hold of Falchion. Summoning all her strength Morgan swung the blade once more towards the demon before her. It cleaved Grima in two and he fell. A shockwave sprung out the moment he was cut in two, blowing Morgan away. The soldiers surrounding her collapsed to the ground, like marionettes that had their strings cut.
Despite being bewildered by this, the young Exalt kept her mind focused on one goal. She quickly recovered and rose to ensure that her opponent stayed down.
She could celebrate her fortune later.
It was clear that Grima yet lived despite his grievous wound. Small tendrils had grown out from his lower body, the small arms wrinkled around in an effort to reattach his upper body with his lower part. Disgusted, Morgan swiftly stopped this by kicking his lower body away, it then withered away like his left hand.
She then turned to face Grima one final time.
He was a pitiful sight. Wounded as he was, his once fearsome form began to shrivel back into that resembling of a thin old man. He looked upon his daughter with fury.
''DAmN yOu! YOU dAre dEny me! Me!? The FeLL DrAGon!?''
Morgan was not intimidated.
''You struck me down once monster, but this time will be different. Die now, so that future generations may live free from your evil.''
As she prepared to deliver the death blow, Grima's expression changed from one of wrath to amusement, as if he had come to terms with his impending defeat.
''Go aHeaD…STRike Me DoWn! I'm AnCienT and PaTiENT! YoU CAnNOT SlaY... WHaT MaY NevER DIE... OnE DaY I Shall RIsE AGaiN And then…''
He began to laugh with his hideous voice.
''YoUR BloODLinE Is CorrUPTed AnD The other LiNE Is WeaK! NeXT TimE, THeRE ShAll NoT Be AnOtHer ExALted Line To CarrY ThE HeirloOMS of NAGA!''
Morgan paused. The Fell Dragon was right, striking him down now with Falchion would only delay his inevitable return. But what could she do? She had been told the Fell Dragon could only be killed by his own hands, and Falchion was an instrument that was purely made by Naga's hands.
Lady Tharja had suggested something with dark magic or blood magic…
Suddenly Morgan knew what she needed to do.
''You're right…With Falchion and the Fire Emblem we can only hope to delay your return, but you forget…father…That I'm your daughter, I carry your blood! And as Naga used her own fangs to create these weapons, so can it be said that you have created me from your own essence.''
With one swift motion, Morgan cut her own hand with Falchion, consecrating the holy blade of Naga with the blood of Grima. Mumbling some few basic dark spells made for empowering weapons, Falchion soon began to glow with a reddish hue. Something resembling panic appeared in Grima's eyes.
''NO! YoU WoULD NoT DaRe!''
''For once, I'm glad that I'm your daughter. Now I can give my life to protect those I care for…This is the end of you Fell Dragon!''
''NO…NO!''
Without further hesitation Morgan brought down Falchion on the creature below her. The avatar of Grima made one small yelp as the blade pierced his heart, while his true form above made one final roar before dissipating completely from this world. As for his mortal host, Morgan could swear that she saw something resembling relief on what little that remains of the face of the former tactician of Ylisse in his death throes. It was a fleeting moment, as his body turned to dust soon after and scattered to the four winds of the world.
Morgan for her part found little time to celebrate, as an all-searing pain erupted all around her body.
The curses and spells that Lady Tharja had cast on her was wearing off, and all of Morgan's wounds began to return.
It seems that the curses are taking their due…
She felt the clothes around her chest becoming moist.
She looked down: It was blood.
With a sudden feeling of exhaustion as well as finding it difficult to breathe, Morgan collapsed on the ground. Desperately, she tried to reach for her back pocket for the last of her vulneraries. Anything that could help her against the pain, but it was a hopeless endeavour, her hands were shaking too much. Unable to get a proper hold on the flask, the vulneraries fell from her hand and rolled away.
So, this is it huh?
Morgan began to cough blood.
As the young Exalt laid there alone and helpless at the top of the ziggurat, she began to think back on her life. When it came to it, this had always been her fate.
Did she regret it? Not really…
While her life didn't have the most pleasant beginning and end, it had a meaningful purpose. And she was at least blessed with people who truly cared for her.
She only wished that she had more time with them. Her mother, her grandfather (yes even her grandmother) and her sist…
''MORGAN!''
While the young mage could no longer see very well or turn her head, she recognised that voice.
It was the voice of Severa.
''Dear Gods…You're bleeding!''
Morgan felt Severa trying to raise her head up, no doubt an effort to prevent the blood from getting to her head as well as ease her efforts to make Morgan drink the displaced vulneraries.
It was a futile effort.
The wounded bluenette was unable to hold the liquid and would constantly cough it out again. Seeing that it was in vain, Severa began to rip some fabric from their clothes to make some make-shift bandages to patch up her sister as best as she could.
Morgan knew that it was hopeless, she had lost too much blood.
''It's fine Severa…It's fine. Just stay with me for a while…''
The young mage could hear that her sister did not take her words well.
''DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP! YOU'LL SURVIVE! We just…we just need to find a healer and…and…''
While Morgan could barely see anything by this point, it was easy for her to imagine the redhead desperately looking around for anything or anyone that might be of use. It was hopeless of course, there was nothing of use at the top of that desolate ziggurat, only corpses.
Unable to do much more, Severa gently held her sister as she laid on the ground.
It felt nice…to be embraced.
Yet the bluenette soon heard a quiet sob from the redhead.
''I'm sorry Morgan, I can't do much more, I'm sorry…Please…Don't leave me…Don't leave me, not like her…''
Despite the pain, Morgan began to pat her sister's head.
''It's fine Severa, you'll be fine…take care of…the others, will you? Tell them…Tell them that...my last thoughts were of them...''
Morgan did not hear her sister's response, as her body finally gave up.
And so passed Exalt Morgan of the royal house of Ylisse, the last daughter of the royal line of Plegia and the second and final known member of the Exalted line to be blessed by Naga herself.
Done with the main story! Next chapter will be an epilogue that hopefully will be done next week. Was a bit split whenever I should include it here, but I ended with finding it more fitting to make a separate chapter for it. Hopefully it will end this story on a bit more positive note.
Thank you all for sticking with this story til now. It was my first story and boy did it take a lot more time for me to finish this -.- I think I'll just stick to drawing in the future.