Chapter 249 Draven Falls

Chapter 249 Draven Falls
The heavy linen cloth was completely soaked with hot, dark blood. I pressed both of my hands firmly against Klaus’s side, trying to close the deep, charred hole left by the silver dagger.

White smoke curled up through my fingers. It carried the sickening, sweet smell of burned meat and the sharp tang of hot metal. Klaus leaned his entire weight against me, his broad chest heaving with short, jagged breaths. The dark purple veins over his heart pulsed erratically, fighting a desperate war against the toxic silver residue lingering in his torn muscle.

I kept my eyes fixed on his pale, sweating face. The freezing wind whipped across the white marble terrace, chilling the wet blood on my skin.

A wet, grating scrape broke the quiet air.

I froze. My hands locked rigidly against Klaus’s ribs.

Behind us, the broken body of General Draven shifted on the stone.

I turned my head slowly. The Captain of the Guard lay flat on his back, his neck bruised a dark, horrific purple. But a faint, golden glow pulsed rapidly beneath the skin of his throat. It was the Emperor’s elemental fire. The same magical strike that had punished Draven in the throne room was now acting as a twisted, unnatural anchor, forcing his crushed windpipe to snap back into a jagged alignment.

Draven’s amber eyes snapped open. They were completely bloodshot, filled with a frantic, dying malice.

He did not gasp for air. He simply rolled onto his side with a horrific, wet crunch. He reached down into the heavy leather of his boot.

He pulled out a thick, braided wire. It gleamed with the stark, deadly shine of pure silver, lined with dozens of tiny, razor-sharp hooks.

Klaus tried to turn, his combat instincts flaring despite the severe wound in his side. He pushed his weight off my shoulder, raising his large, blood-stained hand to intercept the strike.

He was too slow. The silver poison had drained his speed.

Draven lashed the braided wire forward like a whip. The silver chain wrapped tightly around Klaus’s throat and his right arm, pinning his limb to his chest. The sharp hooks bit instantly into his bare flesh.

Klaus let out a deep, tearing roar. Thick white smoke erupted from his neck and bicep the exact second the silver tore his skin.

Draven yanked the wire hard. The sheer, brutal leverage dragged Klaus backward. The heavy immortal crashed onto the hard marble, sliding across the wet stone. The silver wire cut deeper, searing through the thick muscle and burning directly into the veins.

"You thought you broke the hound," Draven wheezed. His voice was a horrific, whistling rattle pushing through a ruined throat. He pulled himself up onto his knees, spitting a mouthful of dark blood onto the white steps.

Draven anchored the end of the silver wire around his heavy steel gauntlet, keeping the tension tight. He drew a short, jagged steel blade from his belt with his free hand.

Klaus thrashed on the stone. He grabbed the burning silver wire with his left hand, entirely ignoring the searing heat melting his palm, trying to pull the razor-sharp hooks from his throat. The smoke billowed around his face, thick and choking. His bright blue eyes were wide, the pupils contracting sharply as the poison flooded his system.

"A hound always bites until its teeth break," Draven rasped, dragging himself toward Klaus.

Cassian yelled a warning from the courtyard below, his boots hitting the steps in a rapid sprint, but the Vampire Lord was too far away. Draven raised the short sword, aiming the jagged tip directly at the center of Klaus’s chest.

I did not scream. I did not panic.

The frantic, terrified girl who used to sing in the silver cage vanished completely. The fear evaporated, replaced by a cold, hollow block of ice in the center of my ribs. The dark fire of the rot flared in my veins, sharp and demanding.

I stood up. I dropped the blood-soaked linen onto the marble.

I stepped directly between Klaus and the Captain of the Guard.

Draven thrust the short sword forward, aiming to drive it straight through my stomach to reach his target.

I did not dodge. I raised my bare right hand and caught the blade.

The cold steel stopped inches from my chest. I wrapped my raw, dirt-stained fingers tightly around the sharp metal. The dark, oily sludge erupted from my palm.

A violent, deafening hiss echoed across the terrace. The jagged steel turned pitch black instantly. The metal dissolved into a thick, boiling liquid, rotting away before it could even cut my skin.

Draven stared at the melting hilt in his hand. His amber eyes widened in pure, unfiltered shock.

I did not wait for him to drop the ruined weapon.

I stepped into his space. I placed both of my bare hands flat against the remaining armor on his body. My left hand hit the thick iron spaulder on his shoulder. My right hand slammed directly against the heavy chainmail covering his chest.

I unleashed the Blight.

I pushed every ounce of the cold, toxic energy in my blood straight into the metal. The reaction was explosive.