Chapter 85 The Fall
Zarakhi laughed, a cold, hollow sound. “The Last Alpha. You look pathetic. You’ve bled half your life away just to reach this room.”
“I’ll bleed the other half to take your head,” Yeseus spat. He took a step, his boots crunching on the debris. Every movement looked like agony, yet his aura was a suffocating pressure of shadow and rage.
“You are a flea in the presence of a god,” Zarakhi said, his form beginning to shift. His shadow expanded, wings of darkness unfurling behind him. “I gave her peace. I gave her a dream where you were her hero. But you just couldn't stay dead, could you?”
With a sudden, explosive burst of remaining strength, Yeseus lunged and drove his knee into Zarakhi’s midsection. The force was enough to knock the wind out of a god. As Zarakhi’s grip faltered, Yeseus twisted his body, using his own weight to wrench himself free from the wall. He spun and slammed his shoulder into Zarakhi’s chest, driving the King backward into a pile of shattered marble and fallen pillars.
The impact collapsed a section of the dais. Dust and crystalline shards rained down, burying the King in a tomb of his own palace's debris.
Yeseus didn’t wait. He didn’t look back. He scrambled across the ruined floor, his breath coming in ragged, wet gasps. Blood dripped from his torn clothes, staining the pristine white floor, but he didn’t feel the pain.
"Yeseus!” Klishei cried.
"I'm here," he breathed, tears stinging his eyes. "I'm right here."
"How long has it been?” Klishei sobbed. Thinking all that she had encountered for the past days, it felt like she had just woken from a nightmare.
"It's only been days," Yeseus said, his heart aching with every word. He traced the line of her jaw, his thumb brushing away the invisible barrier of magic. "I didn't let a second pass that I wasn't searching for you."
"But this place... it’s the end of the universe," Klishei whispered, her voice gaining a fraction of strength as his touch anchored her. "How did you find me?”
Yeseus let out a humorless, jagged laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. "I didn't follow a path, Klishei. I followed the scent of your soul. I tracked the ripple you left in the cosmic weave when they dragged you away. I tore through rifts that would have disintegrated a thousand men just to get to this door. I didn't care if I died. I didn't care if I lost myself in the void. As long as I knew you were breathing, I kept moving."
Klishei’s glassy stare flickered, turning back to the warm brown he knew. "You're hurt. You're bleeding so much."
"It doesn't matter," he replied fiercely. "None of it matters, as long as you're okay.”
"Yeseus, we have to go," she started, the panic rising in her voice again. "He's not just a king. He's a force of—"
The pile of rubble where Zarakhi had been buried exploded outward. Violet fire rained down like molten rain, illuminating the chamber in a sickly, bruised light. Zarakhi rose from the debris, his armor shattered, his face twisted into a mask of pure, reptilian rage. Scales lay scattered on the floor like broken glass, but his aura—the weight of his malice—was heavier, sharper than before.
"A touching reunion," Zarakhi hissed, his voice vibrating with a sound like grinding tectonic plates. "But even the most beautiful tragedies must have an end."
Zarakhi took one step, and the floor beneath him turned to liquid shadow. He reached out a hand, and the air around Yeseus and Klishei began to twist, tightening like a noose.
Yeseus shoved Klishei behind him, his tattered cloak billowing as he readied himself for the final stand. "Run, Klishei! Get to the stairs!"
The dragon king’s chanting stopped everything.
“Somnum Aetternum Statis.”
Zarakhi let out a low, rumbling laugh that shook the very foundations of the room. He raised both hands, and the shadows of the room detached themselves from the walls, taking the form of towering, jagged spears.
“No!” Yeseus roared, pushing himself up, but he was too slow.
A wave of grey, ash-like energy erupted from Zarakhi’s palm, slamming into Klishei. She didn't scream. She didn't fall. She simply stopped. Her eyes remained open, but the golden fire died out, replaced by a flat, glassy stare. Her hand, reached out toward Yeseus, froze in mid-air.
Yeseus let out a howl of pure, unadulterated grief.
“What did you do?” Yeseus whispered, his form flickering back to human. He stood on shaky legs, his chest heaving. “What did you do to her!”
“I preserved her,” Zarakhi said, stepping over the ruined furniture. He looked at Klishei with a clinical, detached interest. “Her spirit was fighting me for you. Now, her spirit is locked in the deepest basement of her own mind. She is a statue. And I can take my time extracting the Phoenix essence from a statue.”
Yeseus’s face went blank. The rage didn't leave. It just condensed into something terrifyingly sharp. He didn't say another word. He just moved.
He was a blur of shadow. He struck Zarakhi with a flurry of blows that cracked ribs and shattered scales. Zarakhi fought back with the weight of a mountain, his fists landing like falling stars. They tore the room apart. The bed was shredded, the pillars supporting the dome collapsed, and the very walls began to groan under the pressure of their battle.
Zarakhi grabbed Yeseus by the throat, hoisting him off the ground. He slammed the Alpha into the obsidian wall, the stone spider-webbing behind his head.
“You are nothing!” Zarakhi screamed, his face inches from Yeseus’s. “You are a mistake of history! A relic of a dying world!”
Yeseus gripped Zarakhi’s wrists, his fingernails drawing dark, thick blood. “I’m the mistake… that’s going to end you.”
Zarakhi’s claws extended, sinking into Yeseus’s shoulders, pinning him against the wall. The Alpha groaned, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. He looked over at Klishei, her frozen form standing in the center of the chaos, oblivious to the destruction.
“Klishei…” he wheezed.