Chapter 94 Chapter 52: Young Flame (2)
Althan expected to be many things in his life, a Grand Magus, a Highprince, and lead his family to greatness, but never a hostage. Ignoring the prospect of threats to his life, he just didn’t like the prospect of getting held against his will.
The force field shook with his heartbeat rising, as Althan looked at the ritual in the corner of his eyes. The air above the altar was warping crazily, twisting and turning into a blackness that gives chills to the heart of men.
There were two guards on him, though all their attention was on whatever was going on in the ritual. They were fearful like him too, praying to Ishar, even unaware of what kind of abomination they were attempting. But the important thing was that they left him on his own, as if he would try nothing. Well, why wouldn’t they? His channels have been shielded, he’s nothing but a lamb to be butchered.
Althan didn't like the prospect either, but this went along with his plan to get out of here. He needed to do it and do it fast. The force field would break, and they will come to save him, even if he failed, but he needed to do it alone. There's something that only he can do . . .
But what was that? Althan had no answer for that, though his willpower rose astronomically.
Gritting his teeth, the young prince jabbed towards the guard on his right, before aiming for the firestone near them. His fist hit the face of the guard as he felt pain when it got in contact with the face of the guard. Well, his opponent was feeling more of it. That was a delight. The other one returned his attention to him instantly, and before Althan could get to the firestone lamp, caught him by the legs.
“Get off me, you bloody oaf,” Althan shouted, running his leg wildly at his capturer. His hand was only about a few inches away from the firestone before he was dragged away.
Althan was shouting in his rage when the force field broke entirely, which caught everyone's attention. Getting that chance, Althan lunged forward and got a hold of his firestone lamp. He wrapped it around his chest, feeling the uncomfortable heat. He was about to overload the device with the heat when he heard a voice, which chilled his mind yet again.
“So you've found your way in,” Rial said towards the two who came in after the bursting of the force field. The rogue knight took Althan’s leg from the guard and held him upside down with one arm in the air, drawing his eyes at the trespasser.
“Let me go, bastard,” Althan screamed, struggling like a fish out of water. He was like a toddler held against his will.
Rial might have the strength of a knight, but he couldn’t keep Althan at his control with him struggling like that, so to make things easier for him, he rammed his knee into the stomach of the prince. The firestone that Althan struggled so much to collect fell on the snow, boiling the snow into water and then evaporating it almost instantly.
The knight kicked at it to toss it aside a few metres away.
“Nobody likes an unruly child,” said the knight. “do your best to be quiet, unless you wanted to die.”
Shailyn’s eyes darted from the altar to the rogue knight holding Althan hostage. Her brows joined in a frown as they came forward.
“Not another step, Arbiter,” said Rial. “It wouldn’t be a likeable outcome for our prince here.”
Shailyn stopped on her track, eyes drawing towards the horrifying undulation at the altar. Something terrible was brewing there. If it wasn't stopped, perhaps every one of their life would be at stake.
“We don’t negotiate with evil warlocks,” Ilias said, holding his bastard sword upwards, while his eyes glowed in the dark.
“So you’ll give up on this innocent life?” The evil knight asked with a confident laugh.
Ilias gritted his teeth and looked at his superior. Shailyn was about to open her lips to say something when a horrifying pressure dropped on her. No, not just on her, but on everyone else as well.
The blackness enveloped over the altar as the horrifying undulations lessened by a lot. It was not serene either, but more like a ticking bomb. Who knew what would happen when it was set off?
A smiled appeared on Rial’s lips as he looked behind. Finally, Rojar succeeded.
It was as if a hole of blackness opened on top of the altar, but instead of sucking everything away, it poured down the black, murky aura on the altar, stuffing it into the sacrifice and then to the medium. The girl screamed, her voice was horrifying, almost having no resemblance to the human voice. Her eyes opened wide and all the light from them was lost in the blackness.
“Oh, Ishar,” Shailyn prayed, and her arms waved, muttering the spells. She didn't hold anything back. Now it's bigger than just one life.
Waves of mad wind swirled in the surrounding area, clashing together to pound against the altar. The black hole crashed almost instantly, though unsure if it was from her spell or something else.
Figures fell surrounding the circle. It was unconcerned whether it was from Shailyn’s spell or the exhaustion their minds went through for just opening a tiny crack to the other side. Whatever it was, they were down. Even the warlock, Rojar Iker, was down, struggling to get up on his knees. However, his lips held all the laughter, blood oozing out from them.
The little winterheart reindeer screamed for one last time, breaking its restraint. Its eyes burned in red and black before it fell lifeless there. Dead.
“The sacrifice had been met,” Rojar Iker said, and his eyes darted towards the girl on the altar, currently unconscious. Her clothes were all torn up into rags, barely holding on to her body, hair untangled like a wrenched.
The warlock scrambled to move towards her when another wave of air attack approached them. His eyes glinted in fury as he called. “Kiea, take care of my prize, while I take care of these righteous fools.” His voice was cold and crisp, and he didn’t wait to see if his apprentice followed his order or not, moved towards the centre of the conflict.
Kiea groaned, her body limping on the snow. Her mind was buzzing with madness as she tried to get up. At first, when the ritual began, she thought about abandoning it at the right time when everything would go wrong from there and fled. However, when the supposed right time came, she found she didn’t have the much control of her body. All she could do was go along with the ritual.
It was a horrifying feeling, as if the ritual would complete whether she wanted it or not. Finally, that ended, and Kiea got the control back over her body. Others there were still down, including Sirius—her master's brother, not even struggling a little.
It was comforting.
Breathing heavily for several seconds, she looked around to search for the situation. There were barely two of them that attacked, however, their number of underlings had downed to a few handfuls only. But with her master’s presence, it would likely go in their favour, though she was unsure how long that would take.
So Kiea advanced to do what she was asked to do, but was she doing it for her master? Even she was uncertain about that. Perhaps, if she had time, and figured out a way to suck out the power of that wretched girl, she would do it. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, and anything she tried would be highly diabolic. But it would be worth a try.
Kiea drew closer to Yeriel, unconscious on the floor. She checked her pulse and found it was weak, though a foreign berserk power was running wild in her body. Her eyes darted to the antler crown on Yeriel’s head. She tried to unbuckle the crown, but found it hard as if the antlers had dug into her skull and become a part of her.
Was that supposed to happen? Well, the only reason she was given the crown of the Winterheart Reindeer antlers was just to camouflage her as a medium to draw the power when the otherworldly being tried to devour the sacrifice. Basically, it was a way to fool an evil god to give up a tiny part of His power.
Yeriel groaned as a soft whimper escaped from her mouth from all the shaking Kiea did with the antlers, but she didn’t wake up.
The Warlock apprentice sighed in relief and was ready to carry her away when a side effect of wind spell hit her. She gritted her teeth and drew in her spiritual energy. She felt pain, but went along with it to redirect the waves of wind coming her way before carrying the prize.
Kiea didn’t have the power to carry Yeriel on her back no matter how important she was, so she just dragged her through the snow, not caring she was leaving ways for others to follow her. Well, if only it remains intact, with the confrontation between two powerful magi. Not to mention, there was nobody present to go after her.
She moved, ignoring all the conflict. Luckily, there was none to keep track of her. Everyone was busy with the conflict. However, she found a figure running towards her. Kiea didn’t recognise him at first and was about to attack when the individual turned on his track and ran like a madman. It was that waste of a prince—seemed like he found freedom in the chaos.
Good for him. Luckily, he didn’t try to play the hero this time around. It would only cause his sorry life, that’s all.
After about two minutes, Kiea dragged Yeriel a couple of hundred metres away, though the undulation in the atmosphere was enough that even a normal person would notice. She stopped, returning her stare from the place of conflict to the girl.
She stooped and touched Yeriel in the chest, drawing her power to seal the channels again. However, the moment her energy made contact with the power, she felt a terrible chill in her spirit. It was an instant, and she felt the horrible power again, overpowering her, however, in the next moment, it filled her heart with ambition and greed.
The thought of betraying her master was not just a design anymore. She touched the terrible power, and she wanted it. It was as simple as that.
Her eyes shone as she proceeded to seal. However abruptly, her heart swelled and her mind was overwhelmed in agony. A hard hammer-like thing hit the back of her head, as she fell unconscious instantly.
A figure came out of darkness as if he was ever hiding in there, a wooden mace in his hand.
“I’ll make up for it later, Kiea,” Sirius muttered as he crouched down near Yeriel, “but you can’t expect me to give this up to you, not even to my brother.”
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