"Not now," the girl snapped, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We don’t have ti to fight."
Azrael’s muscles tensed. His instincts scread at him to resist—running wasn’t sothing he did often. But the determination in her eyes made him hesitate.
"Trust ," she said.
Before he could respond, she slamd her palm into the ground.
The air around them shifted. A deep, unnatural cold spread outward like ripples in a pond. Then—darkness.
Pure, suffocating blackness erupted from where her hand touched the earth, swallowing everything in its path. The street, the approaching n, the ruined buildings—it was as if the world itself had been swallowed by a void.
Azrael’s breath hitched. It wasn’t just darkness. It was sothing alive. He could feel it pressing against his skin, wrapping around him like invisible tendrils.
A dark forge.
The girl had cast a powerful spell, turning the entire area into a domain of shadows.
He could hear the guards shouting, their voices panicked. They were blind. Just like he was.
"Move!" the girl hissed.
Azrael felt her grip tighten around his wrist, pulling him forward. He stumbled at first, his feet uncertain against the unseen ground, but then he forced himself to move.
The darkness swirled around them like ink in water. He could barely make out shapes, but the girl moved as if she could see perfectly.
Chapter 9: The Rising Darkness
Azrael’s breath ca in ragged gasps as he ran, Selene’s grip firm around his wrist, guiding him through the suffocating darkness she had summoned. The shouts of the guards faded into the distance, swallowed by the void of her magic. He could barely see, but she moved with confidence, leading him through the twisting alleys and into the open wilderness.
The night air was thick with tension, the weight of their escape still pressing on them. The mont they broke free from the dark forge, Selene staggered.
Azrael caught her before she could fall. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.
Selene exhaled sharply, nodding. "That spell... takes a lot out of . But we had to get out of there."
He didn’t argue. They had no choice. The city wasn’t safe for them anymore.
"Co on," he said, glancing around. "We need to get back to the others."
With Selene still leaning on him for support, they pressed forward, leaving the ruins of the city behind.
---
By the ti they reached the forest, the moon had risen high, casting silver light through the dense canopy. The girls—those Azrael had freed—were huddled around a small fire in the clearing, whispering anxiously among themselves. The mont they saw him and Selene erge from the shadows, they shot to their feet.
"Azrael!" One of them, a slender girl with auburn hair, ran forward. "We thought sothing happened to you!"
"We got out," Azrael said, scanning their faces. There were about seven of them in total—survivors, just like him. So looked relieved at his return, others wary.
Selene took a deep breath and straightened. "We don’t have ti to celebrate. Sothing is coming."
A girl with piercing violet eyes stepped forward. Azrael recognized her—Naya, the quiet one. She had barely spoken since he saved them. But now, her expression was grave.
"I can feel it," she whispered.
Azrael frowned. "Feel what?"
Naya’s gaze darkened. "A terrible presence. Sothing ancient... and hungry."
The air grew heavy with her words. A cold shiver ran down Azrael’s spine.
"Explain," he said.
Naya closed her eyes, her fingers twitching as if sensing invisible currents. "There’s a darkness spreading... not just any magic. Sothing wrong. It moves like a shadow, consuming everything in its path. And it’s coming straight for us."
The fire flickered violently, as if reacting to her words.
Silence followed.
Then, one of the girls, a blonde with a scar across her cheek, broke it.
"Then we leave," she said firmly. "We run before it gets here."
Murmurs of agreent rippled through the group.
Selene crossed her arms. "And where will we go? There’s no guarantee we’ll be safe anywhere else."
The tension mounted. Fear was creeping in, and Azrael knew that if he didn’t take control, panic would follow.
"We’re not running," he said firmly.
The group turned to him.
"Azrael, we don’t even know what we’re up against!" another girl protested.
"I don’t care," he shot back. "We’ve been running for too long. I won’t let them take everything from us again. This ti, we fight."
His words hung in the air, heavy with determination.
Selene smirked. "About ti you said that."
"But we’re not strong enough," Naya murmured, shaking her head. "Not yet."
Azrael exhaled.
Then, an idea struck him.
He could make them stronger.
He stepped forward, looking at each of them. "I have an ability... one that can help."
They watched him cautiously.
"It’s called The Bond of the Fallen," he continued. "I can grant weapons to those I share a connection with. The deeper the bond, the stronger the weapon."
Silence.
Then Selene snorted. "You an we have to get all cozy with you to get a weapon?"
Azrael rolled his eyes. "Not cozy. Just... so level of intimacy. A kiss might grant you a dagger, but a deeper bond could give you sothing even stronger."
A few of the girls exchanged glances.
Naya bit her lip. "If this can help us... I’ll do it."
Azrael t her gaze. "Are you sure?"
She nodded. "If this dark force is as bad as I think it is, we’ll need everything we can get."
She stepped forward hesitantly. Azrael placed a hand gently on her cheek, leaning in. Their lips barely brushed before a sudden pulse of energy erupted between them.
A dagger of pure silver materialized in Naya’s hand. She gasped, staring at it.
"It worked," she breathed.
Another girl, Mira, stepped forward next. "I want to try."
Azrael repeated the process, and this ti, a short sword ford in Mira’s grasp.
One by one, each girl stepped forward, forging their own connection with him. The stronger the bond, the more powerful the weapon. Selene, smirking the whole ti, gave him a teasingly deep kiss before a black-bladed katana manifested in her hands.
"Now we’re talking," she said, admiring the blade.
The air shifted. A sound rumbled in the distance—low and eerie.
Then, a scream.
A bloodcurdling, inhuman wail that made the trees tremble.
Azrael turned sharply, his heart hamring.
Above them, the sky darkened as grotesque, winged creatures descended, their hollow eyes glowing red. Beneath them, an army marched, spreading across the horizon like a plague.
And at the center of it all... stood the necromancer’s forces.
The undead.
Hundreds of them, shambling forward, their rotting flesh illuminated by the eerie glow of their master’s dark magic.
"They’re separating," Naya whispered in horror. "They’re attacking three different places."
But one group—one massive force—was coming straight for them.
Azrael’s grip tightened on Quinn’s hilt.
"No more running," he said, stepping forward.
Selene twirled her katana. "Good. I was getting tired of it anyway."
Naya steadied her dagger. Mira gripped her sword. One by one, the girls stood beside him, weapons in hand, ready to fight.
Azrael exhaled slowly.
The battle for survival had begun.
Reviews
All reviews (0)