The towering mountains loomed over the dark forest as a raging tempest battered their slopes. Harsh winds slammed into the trees, bending and snapping them like a beast driven mad. Above, lightning speared the clouds, tearing them apart in jagged fractures of light.
Aildris stood on one of the high slopes, his full attention fixed on the battle unfolding below. The fear that had seized him when he first saw the crimson-eyed beings had long since faded, and in its place, curiosity began to creep in. His focus wasn't directed at the beacons of light, but at the dark clothed figures.
To him they felt the same yet unsettlingly different. They all had the prominent darkened red eyes, yet each gaze carried something beyond the crimson.
Something he couldn't figure out.
The battle had begun to reach its peak, beacons of light collapsing under the siege of their darker counterparts. One by one, they fell. Now, only a single flicker of light remained, facing a blue-haired figure, and by the looks of it their battle was nearing its end.
****
Fredrick drew ragged breaths, parts of his silky hair had stuck to his sweaty forehead. A shallow cut travelled all the way from his collar bone down to his chest, and it wasn't alone. His body had been bruised with countless cuts made from the blue dagger. He clutched the handle of his weapon and slashed.
The Vael leader raised his dagger and blocked the strike, the force sent him a few steps back. Unlike Fredrick his body wasn't riddled with cuts but actual wounds. The damage he had sustained to his abdomen had greatly decreased his combat prowess.
His radiant body ached and screamed of fatigue and this made him look at Frederick in a new light.
Fredrick had been poisoned, his physical prowess became irrelevant, and yet he fought the Vael leader to a stand still.
But it had already been decided, at the end of it all. One of them would have to fall.
The Vael leader rushed forward with all the strength he could muster, the blue blade of the dagger reflecting the lightning-streaked sky. The blade slashed at Fredrick who ducked and used the pommel of his sword to jab at the Vael leader's ribs.
For a moment the Vael leader stepped back and felt the air get knocked out of him. Fredrick took the opening and drove an uppercut towards his opponent's chin.
The blow connected.
He felt his worn out muscles strain under the punch. The poison had already corroded a significant part of his core.
He had to end this quickly.
In the next moments, he and the Vael leader exchanged a flurry of rapid strikes. Their worn out bodies mustered all the strength it could in one final attempt to end their opponent.
The Vael leader surged forward, his dagger lurking towards a deadly attack. Fredrick deflected the blade, but still it grazed his skin and left another cut. Another strike flowed after the first in quick succession, and in less than a minute Fredrick had blocked more of them than he could count.
His hands trembled more and more but this only made him grip the sword's hilt tighter.
He noticed another strike of the dagger approaching and angled his blade to deflect. The sword missed, the occurring dull ring of clashing metal was absent and the dagger plunged into his chest.
Fredrick coughed up blood and stared at the radiant fingers that held the dagger, then at the Vael and closed his eyes. He didn't scream in pain.
What could currently be worse than having your insides burned?
The Vael leader tried to dislodge the dagger, but it didn't budge. It felt as though it had been driven into stone. He pulled again with all the strength in his arms, still nothing.
Under the roars of thunder and the arcs of lightning, a low whistle reverberated around the lone mountain top. The thin blade soared beneath the dark sky to answer the call of its master.
Still struggling to retrieve his dagger, the Vael leader noticed the dark blade too late. He felt the cold steel of the weapon pierce his heart and protrude from the other end. For a moment, all he did was stare. He looked at the black blade, then at Fredrick. His hand still clutched around the dagger.
But eventually, death caught up to him. He lost the strength in his body and fell to the ground.
Just like his subordinates before him.
Fredrick, dagger still lodged at the centre of his chest turned to see the last of the nobles burn to ash. They had all died.
He took slow steps, his ragged breath hectic. Every muscle fibre in his body screamed to be put out of their misery.
And with time, their wish would be fulfilled. But first he had something to do.
His slow steps had finally gotten him to the front of his older brother. Derick's cold indifference didn't even falter when seeing his younger brother at death's door.
"It was you, wasn't it?".
He gathered all his strength to ask. "The rogue curse".
Derick didn't give him an answer but Frederick knew he was right. A small smile appeared on his lips.
"At the end of it all, I never got to beat you".
These were the last words he said to his brother before his body failed him and he collapsed to the ground.
Fredrick had never trusted his brother. He neither loved him nor hated him. So the only thing he felt was a growing emptiness in his being.
Maybe it came with the realisation that he had disappointed his father? Or the emptiness was simply his deteriorating core.
Either way none of it would matter when he was dead.
Derick glanced at his brother's body, turmed and began to walk away. After everything, only he was left standing.