Breath of Divinity

Oscar’s head was pounding. A sharp, throbbing pain was radiating through his temple, as if a little marching band had gathered just below the surface, hosting a miniature rally. The instant that lightning blast had hit the barrier, someone had shoved him hard in the back. Just about everyone else had landed in the grass; he, in accordance with his usual luck, had been thrust face-first into a ceramic flowering pot. He could tell the damage had already begun healing, but that didn’t make it any less unpleasant.

He looked up through the thick sheets of rain and saw that there were three people standing outside the gate now. The last figure could only have been the third sibling they had mentioned earlier, and he was approaching fast with the Necroforager just behind him.

Someone yanked him upright. It was his father, blinking rain out of his panic-stricken eyes. Mr. Medina was shouting at him, but even though he could see his father’s mouth moving he realized that he was unable to hear anything but a dull ringing noise. His father gesticulated forcefully in the direction of the mansion, then all at once the noise of the world around him returned, as if someone had abruptly turned on the volume.

“We have to get inside!”

There was much grunting and gasping as the group began to scrabble back into the house, slipping and sliding. They burst through the front door and Mr. Bryant slammed the door behind them, bolting the multitude of latches fastened to the door.

“We have to get out of here!” Mr. Combs said, panic etched in every line of his face.

“And go where?” his wife asked shrilly.

“Anywhere but here!”

Mr. Whitmore was in the living room, scrabbling around pulling objects haphazardly from their resting places and tossing them unceremoniously around the room.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asked his father incredulously, as if worrying for his sanity.

“Looking for… aha!” Mr. Whitmore triumphantly pulled something from underneath one of the sofa cushions, a large bronze instrument Oscar recognized as a double-barreled shotgun.

“How many of those do you have?” Jon said in disbelief.

There was no time to answer. A polite knock sounded on the front door, followed immediately by a bang! that sent it flying off its hinges and clattering into the living room. In came the mystery sibling. He was almost as tall as the doorframe itself, with messy hair that was moonbeam silver, bright blue eyes and a cleft chin.

Mr. Whitmore raised his shotgun and fired without the slightest bit of hesitation. The force of the rounds caused the man to stagger, but there was no other sign of damage.

With anger flaring through his cold blue eyes he raised his own arm. There was some form of energy curling from his fingers, similar to the light beams Jon produced, but it was bluish-white. He flicked his arm and a jet of that strange energy flew from his hands and shot at Mr. Whitmore, who hissed in pain. The shotgun clattered out of his hand, which was coated in frost all the way up to the elbow — it was frozen solid. The man raised his arm in preparation for another attack, but just before the blast could connect Tim sped around and zoomed Mr. Whitmore to safety on the other side of the room, then doubled back to grab Jon before he could even register what had happened. The Harbinger looked confused for only a second, then he looked to his left with a very pronounced start.

Jon was standing there, blazing with energy. A harsh, blinding light flared, with such force behind it that it blasted the Harbinger right back through the door and into the muddy water.

“Go, go!” Mr. Combs shouted, and they began to hurry up the staircase. Jon was leading Mr. Whitmore, who was hyperventilating, his arm still encased in ice.

They had barely crested the stairs when they heard the sound of the walls of the living room being torn apart. Oscar chanced a glance back, and found with a jolt of horror that the Necroforager was forcing its way in, demolishing the stone around it. Next moment Oscar dived aside with a yell of indignation as a huge chunk of rock came hurtling up towards him. It tore right through the banisters, leaving a gaping hole in the wall behind it.

“Any ideas?” asked Mr. Whitmore, who was having his hand thawed by Jon.

“Back door?” Haley suggested tentatively. “We could climb the fence and make a run for it.”

“In this storm? Forget about it,” said Jon.

“So we should stay in here and let them kill us?” Lauren said incredulously.

“No, but I do think we should split up,” Tim’s father chimed in. Everyone stared at him, taken aback. “That way at least some of us should be able to get away.”

“And what about the rest of us?” Tim’s mother demanded.

“Maria, be practical,” he tried to reason with her.

Their conversation was interrupted again by the sound of someone stomping around downstairs. It seemed the Harbinger had recovered from Jon’s flashbang. Oscar’s heart was pounding, but his mind was oddly clear. He turned to the others and took a deep breath, his resolve solidifying.

“I’m going to cause a distraction, you guys try to get out through the back.”

Jon looked up, his expression a mixture of surprise and impatience. “Don’t be stupid. They’ll kill you!”

“No they won’t.” Tim looked terrified, but his voice was quite steady as he spoke. “I’ll help him.”

Both of his parents immediately burst into a storm of protest, but something collided with the wall in front of them and shattered, leaving fragments of glass littered on the magnificent carpet. It sounded like the Harbinger was dismantling the living room.

“No time to argue, run!” Oscar hissed, and without waiting for a reply he dashed off. He approached the corner cautiously, peering around at the intruders. The mystery sibling was there, looking furious, and he was now accompanied by Erymithia and her Necroforager. She was gazing around the living room while her brother craned his neck to look up at the second floor. It seemed for a moment that neither of them had spotted him — then without warning, the brother launched another blast of energy directly at him.

It came so fast that he didn’t even have time to dodge. Fortunately Tim grabbed hold of him just in time, hauling him out of the line of fire. Huge spires of ice were erupting from the spot where the beam had struck, like frozen stalagmites. One of the spires was so long that it stopped mere inches from his chest.

Oscar looked down at it and gulped. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Ahead of them, a pale hand crept around the wall, its fingers painted bright red, like the colour of fresh blood. Erymithia rounded the corner, smiling deviously.

“Weapons at the ready,” said Oscar, removing his necklace.

“You sure you know what you’re doing?” Tim asked in a very small voice, sliding off his glasses and blinking rapidly.

“No. Nokk.” Purple light flashed through the hallway. A flash of red followed immediately, and next moment they stood there, Tim clutching his hammer, Oscar’s hand encased in his gauntlet.

Erymithia let out a soft “oh” of amusement. “Brightsteel. I haven’t seen that in a while. I suppose I should be scared now. Aren’t you scared, Orpheo?” she crooned.

“I’m quaking in my boots,” grunted her brother, who had just appeared at her side.

“You should know, boys. Brightsteel isn’t the only material that can be fatal to a celestial,” Erymithia said, holding out her hand. Black smoke billowed from her palm, taking shape before their very eyes. A moment later she was left clutching a long black scythe that looked like it might have been made of obsidian, but the metal was rougher, more flaky-looking. Orpheo held out his hand too, and in it materialized a huge double-sided black axe, polished to a mirror finish.

“Oh… well, you learn something new everyday,” Oscar said.

A bolt of lightning shot from Erymithia’s finger. Tim grabbed hold of Oscar and sped off in a whirl of blue down the opposite end of the corridor. Orpheo launched yet another ice blast, but this time it wasn’t aimed at them: the beam struck the floor, coating the carpet in a harsh layer of ice in an instant. Tim lost his balance and spiraled horribly, sending both of them hurtling down the corridor at breakneck speed. Oscar hit the wall so hard that he felt the breath knocked out of him.

Orpheo swooped down upon them in an instant, his great boot swinging down upon Tim’s chest like an anvil. He stomped with such force that Tim expelled a raspy cry of pure anguish, sinking a few feet into the ice, then the Harbinger raised his axe. Oscar had just one moment where he saw a sliver of his own wide-eyed expression reflected in the axe’s cruel steel — then, at the other end of the corridor Valarok appeared, face set and holding up an arm as if to say “enough.”

The appearance of their older brother gave Orpheo pause. Erymithia, on the other hand, shrieked, “No, it’s a trick! The older one can conjure mirages!”

Orpheo whipped his head around in astonishment, but Oscar was already on his feet, his arm reared back. Curling his gauntleted fist, he launched a punch directly in the Harbinger’s midriff. The force of the blow created a visible shockwave; Orpheo was lifted off his feet, soaring down the corridor and through the wall into the next room.

Erymithia shrieked with rage, electricity sparking at her fingertips. What happened next was so bizarre that for a moment Oscar thought Erymithia was so blinded with fury she had accidentally attacked herself. Then he realized that a separate blast of lightning had struck her from behind. She let out a scream of agony, then crumpled upon the icy carapace. It was then that Lauren was revealed behind her, clutching her spear, which was crackling with electricity that was a deeper shade of green than Erymithia’s.

Keeping a wary eye on the fallen Harbinger, Lauren hurried over to Oscar’s side. He hoisted Tim to his feet, who was clutching his throat and rasping, unable to breathe.

“It’s okay, you should start healing soon,” he said, examining the damage. His throat seemed to have sustained a heavy bruising. Wincing slightly, he looped his arm around Tim’s shoulder and pulled him upright. Then his gaze flickered back to Lauren. “I thought I told you to run.”

“You did, and I ignored you,” said Lauren, grabbing Tim’s other arm and helping to carry him gingerly across the frozen hallway.

“Where’s everybody else?”

“They went into Sytris’s bedroom. Did you know there’s a magic mirror in there? It’s like some kind of weird portal, because I saw them slip right through it. I decided to come look for you instead.”

“Good thing you did. How you doing buddy?” he asked, as they turned right and headed down the hallway leading towards the back door.

Tim tried to speak but nothing came out.

“That’s progress. I think.”

The only good thing about this whole debacle was that the Necroforager hadn’t tried to join its master upstairs. If Oscar had to guess, it was too heavy to climb the staircase, which meant it was probably waiting for them somewhere outside. Unfortunately with the siblings behind them, it was either stay and deal with them, or handle the Necroforager instead. Both were terrible options, but he knew which one he preferred.

They burst outside into the raging storm. It was difficult to make out anything for a moment, then a surge of light illuminated the area just long enough for them to discern the scene unfolding in front of them. Now they knew why the Necroforager hadn’t come upstairs: it was deep in battle with Haley and Jon.

“I thought you said they went through the mirror?” Oscar demanded.

“I thought they did! They must have turned back.”

Jon was firing multiple blasts in sequence, all of which seemed to be glancing harmlessly off the monster’s rockbound body. Haley held up both of her arms and gestured forcefully at the creature, and they watched in amazement as a number of vines erupted from the ground beneath them, wrapping tightly around the monster and binding it in place. It seemed for a second that they had won — then the Necroforager burst out of its restraints, picked up a massive chunk of rock and hurled it at Haley. She dove out of the way just in time, narrowly avoiding being flattened.

“We have to help them,” Oscar said.

“Okay, but then who’s going to help us?” Lauren said. Oscar and Tim turned in the direction she was facing. Erymithia and Orpheo had followed them through the back door, seething with rage, lightning coursing through the air around them.

“What do we do?” Lauren asked.

“I have no idea,” Oscar said quietly. It was painful to admit, but he was being completely truthful. They had gotten lucky so far, but they were outmatched and they knew it. The Harbingers were closing in from one side, and the Necroforager was advancing from the other.

Haley rose to continue her fight, unfolding one of her fans with a raspy, metallic scraping noise. Just as she was about to throw it at the monster, Valarok appeared out of nowhere, directly at her side. He grabbed her hand and twisted so forcefully that she dropped her weapon, then slammed his elbow into her face so that she crashed into the ever-growing tide of water. Jon tried to come to her aid, but before he could launch a single blast the Necroforager’s massive hand swooped down and grabbed him, pinning him firmly against the ground.

“Don’t feel bad, children,” said Valarok. “It was a valiant effort, but you must have known you never really stood a chance. Now. Here is what you would call an ultimatum: give us the nexus —”

A horrible squelching noise pierced the air, followed by a long, guttural scream from Haley. Thunderstruck, they saw that something was extending from Haley’s shoulder. The blade of a sword, as black as Erymithia’s scythe.

“— or your siblings die one by one,” Valarok finished. “If you require further motivation, consider this: Auxilyte has the same effects as Brightsteel upon a god. One good hit in a vital area, and they die.”

“We don’t have what you’re talking about!” Tim said angrily, still massaging his throat.

Valarok sighed. “Very well, if you insist.” He twisted the blade in deeper. Beside him, Jon was fighting in vain against the Necroforager holding him down, spitting out a slew of curses. Haley’s screams were bone-chilling, even with the raging winds and rain lapping around them. “Final warning,” Valarok said in a singsong voice.

Tim huffed with rage and moved towards him, enhanced by his divine speed. But Orpheo seemed to have been anticipating something like this: he fired again, though this time instead of freezing the ground he aimed directly at Tim’s feet. His legs became encased in a block of ice and he crashed to the floor, unable to move as the ice spread swiftly over his entire lower body.

“Meddlesome insect,” Orpheo said scathingly.

Valarok smiled. “As we were saying. Unless you want me to jab this blade into her heart —”

But he was interrupted again. This time however, it was not by any of them. Erymithia’s hounds had started growling at the sky.

“Sister, please control your pets, they’re interrupting a very engaging conversation,” Valarok said irritably.

“Azeban. Nyla,” she crooned. “Oh my darlings…” She watched them as they continued to snarl and roar, then her eyes suddenly went wide. “They’ve sensed something.”

“Sensed wha —”

Before Valarok could finish his sentence, something huge zoomed out of the darkness and smashed right into him. The Harbinger rolled across the lawn, spitting water out of his mouth as he came to a halt. Oscar looked around and saw a huge shape flying around them, but then he realized that it wasn’t flying at all: it was galloping through the air.

“Sytris!” he said, a warm gush of relief flooding through him.

Their caretaker had appeared at last, cantering around on the ventus, whose incorporeal form was flickering in and out of sight amid the heavy rain. The hounds seemed to have become enraged at the sight of Skylar, who was still ambling gracefully through the air. The ventus circled back and headed straight for the Necroforager.

With a neigh of rage, she conjured a roaring tempest of emerald wind that surged at the monster, who was blown backwards, landing in a heap several feet away. Jon sprang to his feet, hurrying over to Haley’s side.

“Took you long enough!” he yelled.

Sytris came to a halt beside them, dismounting with a look of cold fury on his face. “My apologies, I came as fast as I could.” He glanced at Haley, who was squirming around on the floor, a pool of blood forming beside her. “Help her up.”

Jon extracted the sword and lifted her up with some difficulty. Oscar made to help, but Sytris threw out a hand to stop him. “Listen to me closely. While I expected this safehouse to serve us much longer than this, I did take precautions in case it was compromised prematurely. This —” He thrust a rolled up piece of paper at him “— is marked with the location of another safehouse, and further instructions. The five of you must get there now. It’s less protected, but it will be harder for them to locate.”

“What about you? What about our folks?”

Sytris shook his head. “Focus on yourselves. I will do everything in my power to protect your” — he hesitated for a fraction of a second — “parents, but you need to leave now.”

The remaining Harbingers flocked to their brother’s side, then Erymithia locked eyes with Sytris. “You!” she shrieked.

Sytris made no response, but something seemed to shift in his expression.

“A little help here!” Tim shouted, banging uselessly away at his ice restraints. Lauren waded over to Tim’s side and shattered the ice encasing him with the brunt of her spear, then turned the tip towards Erymithia.

“No!” said Sytris, rushing forward. “I’ll handle them. Get to the safehouse!”

They hesitated for only a moment, then Tim, Lauren and Oscar took off in Jon’s direction.

“Azeban! Nyla! Kill the ventus!” screamed Erymithia. The reins tethering the dogs to the chariot vanished. The hounds let out a bloodcurdling roar, then bounded towards them, riding on the storm winds. Skylar whinnied in terror and galloped away just as Oscar was climbing onto her back.

He screamed as the sudden movement sent him toppling over, clutching onto Jon’s hand as he hung dangerously over the edge.

Down below he saw Tim and Lauren yelling in panic, trapped on the ground.

Jon tried to pull him up, but between the erratic movements of the ventus and the fierce wind and rain lashing at them from all sides, his grip slackened and Oscar went tumbling off into the night. He fell so hard that he was positive something was broken. The water level was so high now that it was almost impossible to make out the grass it was covering. Oscar pushed himself up, sweeping his rain-sodden hair out of his face.

Sytris was engaged in battle with Orpheo. He was wielding two long swords, both of which were wrapped in dark red flames. Even with the wind howling violently in his ears he could still hear the clangs of metal on metal as they swiped and jabbed furiously at each other, their blows obviously aiming to kill.

Oscar rose, limping. His right ankle was twisted. Several yards in front of him, a pit of scarlet fire was forming at Sytris’s feet, then it gushed upwards in a mighty stream. At first he thought it was headed for Orpheo, then he realized he was mistaken. The ventus had just appeared overhead, desperately trying to evade her pursuers. Azeban and Nyla came scrambling along in her wake, but the raging inferno collided with them in midair and they vanished in the gulf of flames.

Jon finally managed to reestablish some form of control over Skylar. Jerking the reins he sent the ventus gliding towards Oscar, while Erymithia’s agonized screeches filled the air. In an instant he had pulled Oscar off the ground and onto her back.

The short interruption had cost Sytris a great deal. Diverting his attention to the hounds had created an opening that Orpheo had gladly seized. With one hand he used his massive axe to send Sytris’s blades clattering out of his hands. With his other, he materialized a long, slender lance of solid ice, then sank it straight into Sytris’s chest.

Oscar couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped him. Even though he knew that such a wound couldn’t kill Sytris, it was still horrifying to witness. Several feet of the lance emerged from Sytris’s back, glistening with blood.

Orpheo’s other hand was doubling back in a wide swing of his axe. Jon steered Skylar downwards, galloping towards them at full speed, but even as fast as she was there was no way they could make it in time. But as it turned out they needn’t have bothered. If Oscar had blinked he would have missed it entirely: the great blue blur that was Tim streaked in, knocking the axe out of his hand before it could make contact. Then with his hammer he launched a devastating blow, augmented by his speed, that collided directly with the Harbinger’s jaw. Orpheo was blown backwards with a sickening crunch, and his armoured figure was soon swallowed up in the darkness of the storm.

Oscar felt a surge of pride, but the celebration was short-lived. Somewhere to their left they heard a voice that was unmistakably Lauren’s screaming like a banshee.

They spotted her immediately, splashing away from the huge silhouette of the Necroforager. Jon changed direction at once, but the storm seemed to be getting worse.

The winds were so powerful that it was hard to stay upright. They were swooping down towards her when a fierce spout of wind suddenly erupted, blowing them off course. It took everything they had to hold on to the reins. When finally they had regained their balance, he saw Tim zooming onto the scene, rescuing Lauren, who had fallen, from being crushed underneath the monster’s enormous foot.

Tim stopped directly underneath them, clutching a dazed-looking Lauren. They dipped again — and again were rebuffed by the wind.

“Go! We’ll catch up with you!” Tim shouted.

“No way!” Jon yelled back. He tried to steer Skylar downwards, but it was impossible. It was like the storm was alive, actively fighting them too.

“Just go! We’ll be fine!”

Lauren yelped as Tim swept her into his arms. He gave them a nod of reassurance, spared one final look somewhere off to his right, then sped off in the opposite direction. The blue blur streaked through a hole the storm had blown into the fence and vanished into the murky depths. Jon glanced at Oscar, jaw agape. Haley was still unconscious beside them. Down below they saw Sytris, which Oscar realized was probably what Tim was looking at before he ran off.

They tried to veer towards their caretaker instead, but the storm had become so thick that he vanished from sight before they could even get anywhere close. The last image they saw was him holding his flaming blades aloft once more as Erymithia advanced in a cloud of lightning, then he was gone. There was nothing more they could do.

“Go! Just go!” Oscar shouted.

Jon looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Instead he jerked the reins upwards. With a tremendous effort, Skylar broke away and took to the sky, galloping away from the mansion.