The Dance of : Part Two

"Everyone! On Me! Withdraw!"

The signal went out to the Noxium, and their attention pivoted to you. Some dispersed into mist, while others kicked or punched their opponents aside and leapt over to your side. The Red Wolf snatched and clawed at the air, trying to catch them as they somersaulted over him, but they were too fast, too agile.

With most of your number gathered, you turned on your heel and ran with all of your might, sprinting towards the end of the driveway, your vampire brethren close at your side. Many were wounded, some quite badly, but all were upright, at least for now.

You ran with such haste that you resembled a flock of crows, a mass of dark shadows sweeping down the long drive.

The thundering stampede of roaring beasts was close behind. A quick peek over your shoulder revealed the Red Wolf, two or three of his strongest wolves galloping beside him in pursuit, while the rest of their number continued to pulverise the Crusaders into a fine red mist.

You longed to put this battle behind you, to at least assure your girls’ safety. But as you looked towards the end of the shingled driveway of pale stone and pebbles, you were struck with confusion.

Octavia and Namina were sprinting with all of their might towards the gate, yet they made no ground.

Naomi twisted around, the **** Diana still slung over her shoulder. “M-Master, don’t come this way, it’s… there’s something wrong. Some kind of trap!”

That’s when you noticed it. The others did too.

As if the pale driveway were a massive treadmill, the ground beneath your feet began to revolve backwards. Your forward momentum slowed, first to a jog, then a struggling crawl, until you were all dashing wildly yet fixed in place as the stones rushed beneath your feet.

“Did someone spike the B Negative!? Or is this really happening?” Hughie protested.

His sister’s ears twitched and her head snapped up as if she’d been tazed. You began to feel it too, to smell it, to taste it at the back of your tongue as goosebumps rose along your neck.

It was a strange scent, both natural and unpleasant. Wood smoke and gasoline. Almost flammable.

Then came the whistle. A piercing screech as the air itself was torn apart.

You looked up.

Your heart dropped.

Shadows soared across the starry sky, sleek and darting like wasps in an abyss. Behind them rolled a cape of angry black clouds, rumbling as silver-blue lightning crashed into the treeline below.

One moment they were distant. The next they were upon you, the night swallowed by a sudden supernatural storm roaring at their backs.

“You’ve got to be shitting me…” you muttered.

Oh, but it was no joke.

Robed feminine figures plunged into the fray, their sharp hoods and whirling veils fluttering in a rainbow of colours. Mounted on brooms, they spiraled around you like vultures, one hand gripping the gnarled sticks that carried them, the other clutching dark wands alive with terrible luminance.

Only one spoke, her voice booming louder than the rain now beginning to fall, drenching your matted hair.

The witch in ivory raised her wand and cracked it like a whip directly at you. “A CALL TO THE BLOODLESS, THE GOLDEN-EYED!”

You grunted as your legs were yanked from the earth, your body lifting as if pulled by invisible strings.

You yelped, weightless, like a balloon loosed into the air.

Luckily, twin hands caught your string.

The Reid twins seized your legs and hauled you back down as you struggled to collect yourself.

Everything was happening at once.

Two more witches, one in brown, the other in dark green, thrust their wands forward and tore at the air.

The invisible blade sliced past Hughie, who ducked just in time. Behind him, it struck true, cleaving the Noxium in its path into two wet, collapsing halves.

Your heart skipped.

Wallow.

You had never spoken to him, not that you remembered. But you felt it all the same, his hopes, his life, snuffed out into the blackness of a final ****.

“NO!!” several of your kin cried.

Rage surged through you.

You raised your guns, both hands flashing with blinding light as you fired up into the spiral of witchcraft.

The witch in dark brown snapped her wand through the air and screamed in a sharp, familiar Indian tone, “STONE: DANCE AND WALTZ!”

As quickly as your bullets flew, the shingled driveway answered. Pale stone tore free in a violent swarm, a storm of jagged fragments shooting upward, shredding your gunfire from the air and tearing into your ranks.

Moonie hissed as shards ripped through her shoulder. Another lost half their face. Others had legs and ankles flayed clean of flesh.

That was enough.

You were done with this.

You refused to keep getting caught off guard.

Morgan was out for the count, but she had known the risks. These witches, the ones pressing the attack, were arrogant. You recognized the one in white. Regina, you thought. Vana as well.

If they wanted to clash with something greater, then you would remind them of the cost.

The ground still dragged beneath your feet, but you **** your stride wide and used the momentum to launch yourself upward. You surged into the air, rain hissing against your skin as the storm whipped your blood-streaked hair and the witches spiraled around you.

You cut your flesh.

Blood spilled.

With your bleeding thumb, you traced a sigil into the air around you, reaching deep within, burning the vitae of Vicky in your gut until the rune flared to life.

A smirk curled at your lips as you whispered, the sigil igniting with profane light, orange, then white, then a searing blue.

"Dragon's Breath: Azure Inferno."

The blood came alive. A spark, then full combustion. In a slithering, snake-like circle, the blue flame erupted outward in a 360 spiral of ruthless inferno.

So bright and so hot was the blaze, and so vast its reach, that it stained the onyx sky, painting everything in hues of azure.

Like a wave, the fire washed over the witches.

It did not catch like a normal flame. It melted into them, clinging, consuming, spreading like napalm. Their robes ignited instantly, exposed skin sizzling as if pressed to a skillet. The shockwave shattered their brooms into splinters and wrapped them in that hungry sapphire fire.

Feminine, girlish screams echoed around you.

You watched with grim certainty as the burning figures were hurled down into the woods beyond the driveway, trailing smoke and ash as they vanished into the treeline.

As your weight settled and the pull beneath you released, you took in the battlefield from above. The driveway had stopped running. Your forces surged forward once more.

A few looked up at you, eyes wide, frozen in a quiet awe.

But you had no intention of following them.

You would see Vicky and Diana safe.

Whatever the cost.

As gravity took hold and you began to fall, you roared:

“DON’T STOP! KEEP THEM SAFE!”

“Boss—!” Hughie cried.

“I SAID GO!!”

You spread your weight, gripping Lugh tightly in your red right hand, letting the whipping wind break your descent.

The wolves were still coming.

The colossal Red Wolf led the charge, two of his hulking kin at his side, closing the distance on your retreating forces.

But not for long.

Your descent matched the speed of the coming wolves. The blade of Lugh hung high above your head as you hoisted it skyward, its black flame whistling as it grew, devouring the oxygen around it.

Your flesh and your blade struck the earth like a hammer, and as the sword kissed stone and dirt, a fantasia of onyx heat roared across the drive.

A wall of flame leapt outward, setting all it touched ablaze.

The two werewolves running beside their leader yelped like wounded pups, flinging themselves back as they tried to shield against your aerial strike.

But not the Red Wolf.

His hide burned like the others, yet his eyes remained wild, his stride unbroken.

Grimacing, you raised your blade, ready for the clash.

It never came. Not as you expected.

The colossal red-furred beast dug its claws into the stone, shards kicking up as it wrenched itself to a halt. Its immense shadow loomed over you. In that split second you saw it, the violent twitch of muscle, the roll of its great yellow eyes vanishing into its skull.

Its jaws lifted skyward, as if calling to the storm above.

Then its flesh ruptured.

With a wet, explosive burst, the wolf’s head tore free, its throat peeling open in a violent spray of blood. Like a bullet tearing through an orange, the human shape within it punched outward, skin and muscle intact as it launched from the collapsing beast.

You jolted, your footing broken as the tall, athletic, nude form of the Wolf Leader spun through the air and closed the distance in an instant.

His hands seized your shoulders and dragged you in.

A crack thundered through your side as his knee drove into your ribs, forcing a spray of crimson from your lips. For a fleeting second you caught his expression. Proud. Calculated. Brimming with malice.

“Not bad,” he said lowly. “But you have a lot to learn, little leech lord.”

In one perfect motion, he twisted your body and hurled you back into the red-hot stone.

Gasping for breath, clutching your chest in agony, you **** yourself to twist and look toward the Red Wolf. His limbs tensed as he broke into an unnaturally fast sprint, his physique a perfect frame of brutal symmetry, the bloodied wolf pelt and severed head streaming behind him.

You reached out, trying to cry out, trying to warn them, but when your mouth opened only blood spilled, not sound.

His stride widened, faster and faster, until he coiled low and sprang into a high, arcing leap.

He cleared the Nox who hesitated between abandoning you and chasing Naomi and Octavia, who were still recovering from the witches’ trick.

It did not matter.

He was already past them.

Arms outstretched, hands curled into thick, monstrous claws, a snarl tearing from his throat as he descended.

Naomi, struggling to hoist Vicky over her shoulder, looked up in horror.

“Namina—!”

Octavia had already dropped Diana’s still-steaming body and threw herself into Naomi, tackling her aside just as the Red Wolf crashed down. His knees smashed into the ground where they had stood a heartbeat before.

They were at the very edge of the drive now, the intricate iron gate looming behind them.

Naomi scrambled, dragging Vicky up against the perimeter wall. Octavia moved with her, placing herself between them and the beast, her smaller frame shielding Vicky without hesitation.

Octavia’s expression sharpened. Her skin pulled tight, eyes burning red, fangs bared as she hissed through clenched teeth.

The Red Wolf rose slowly, unmoved by the display. He flicked his clawed hand in a dismissive gesture.

“Stand aside.”

“Do your worst, you mongrel. Vicky is our kindred. I will die before you ever lay your hands on her.”

The Red Wolf flexed his talons, considering her for a moment.

“Yes… I suppose you will.”

It happened in an instant.

His arm drew back, claws poised to cleave her head clean from her shoulders. Octavia tensed—

Everything stopped.

A slender hand, long nails painted, closed tightly around the Wolf’s wrist.

He turned, curiosity and fury flickering together in his expression.

Big brown eyes met his gaze. Long waves of chocolate hair framed a bratty, beautiful face.

“I don’t think so, Fido.”

You shifted painfully against the ground, a choked, triumphant laugh bubbling through the blood in your throat.

The Red Wolf snarled and twisted to strike her, but she stepped aside with casual ease, her face curling in disgust as she wiped the hand that had touched him against her thigh.

“Like hitting girls, do you? Well… I hope you don’t mind if this one hits you.”

Belle Harlow blurred.

In a heartbeat she was inside his guard, her body snapping forward with unfathomable speed and strength as her fist drove deep into the Red Wolf’s stomach.

He folded like a deck chair, the sheer **** clearly taking him off guard. Yet he recovered quickly, twisting around into a devastating kick which met Belle’s side, sending her flying into the wall.

Crouching down into a bestial stance, the wolf roared as he sprung suddenly from his spot. He tore through Octavia who was blasted aside, and Naomi was brutally stabbed by one of his claws.

She screamed, falling violently into the ground as the Wolf scooped up Vicky’s limp, slightly convulsing body in his powerful arm.

He turned as if to flee, but the tall form, covered only by torn lingerie waited only inches from him. Belle’s face was monstrous, eyes blazing, jaws wide as she lurched into a kick.

The Wolf took the blow, but his grip never loosened. You watched in horror as he and Vicky broke through the exterior wall in a shower of brick and dust, flying into the deep woods outside.

Your eyes stretched wide, teeth grinding together as you focused on Belle.

“Belle, get her back, please! You have to save her!”

Belle peered back at you, her face awash with sorrow at your crumbled broken form.

“I can’t just leave you, my love-”

“Don’t worry about me. Take the Yellow Jackets and bring her back, please Belle!”

She nodded hesitantly before vanishing into the woods after the Red Wolf and Vicky.

The Noxium had since reached Octavia, Naomi and the slowly regenerating Diana. Nursing and checking them with concern.

Meanwhile, you pulled yourself up, gripping the cross guard of your fathers sword, relying on its leverage to hold you up, as you tried your best to recover.

Vicky… all this time, you had tried to usher her away…. Pft who were you kidding?

You wanted her, you needed her under your banner, nestled against your security. Victoria Kaz belonged to you, she was a Nox.

You refused to let her go. What did they even want with her?

You had no time for further contemplation or recovery. You heard the shift and grunt of two hulking forms, forcing themselves back on their paws.

Huffing with exasperation, exhaustion and pure painful agony, you turned around. The Crusaders were somehow still fighting off the other werewolves. You’d seen what they could do, no matter how many times the werewolves ripped them apart, they’d just keep coming.

But in front of you now were the two werewolves which you’d lit up like the fourth of July. Singed, injured but angrier than ever.

The two limped around you, circling you viciously. One of them, the larger of the two, snarled with rage his coat of thick black fur standing on end where it wasn’t singed.

But the other seemed… oddly serene, there was no anger in it’s eyes, no snarl… just the silent watchfulness of a wolf who looked to its enemy and saw no advantage

Its coat was short, distinct, a storm grey flecked with auburn. Your head tilted in recognition.

As its eyes met yours, you knew that it recognised you too. She recognised you.

You knew those Green-Yellow Eyes and you knew that scent.

You chuckled through a cough, flexing your shoulder and pulling Lugh from the ground. It’s onyx blade blazing to life.

“You were right about your brothers, there really is no stopping them.

Eh Flora?” You said with a smile.

The She-Wolf stopped in its tracks, its head rising and falling in a slow nod which coming from a gigantic werewolf, was incredibly unsettling.

The both of them were poised to pounce, you, ready to fight to the last breath.

Something was wrong. You felt off. You had jerked forward a little, it felt as if someone had punched you hard in the right shoulder.

A ringing began to ooze into your eardrums. You staggered for a second, blinking in confusion.

The wolves had slinked back. The Noxium had lurched as if something had hit them hard as well.

And as you blinked, a figure suddenly appeared in your narrow vision.

Towering, muscled, in nothing but a white tank top and torn grey jeans. She stood… Her head was covered by some strange kind of mask, pitch black it wrapped tightly around her face allowing only her messy orange hair to spill out from behind.

A dark muffled Lugh escaped her as she lifted her arm to reveal a bloody severed arm, clutched tightly in her right hand.

“W-Wha…?” You muttered, turning your head down… to see the bloody, heavily bleeding stump where your right arm once was… Lugh’s black blade lay discarded on the bloody stones.

Muffled the voice was, yet you recognized the purely malicious Irish tone which spoke.

“I have waited many long years for this. **** to the house of Drake. Long live the Moores.”