As anticipated, the footsteps above increased. Then, a flash of black as someone jumped from the roof into the alleyway with a heavythud. An Elven male landed across from him, clad in dark clothing with a golden broach on his chest. The Elve drew his sword.
“The Vulture sends their regards,” the male hissed.
Taryn’s dark brows drew together at the comment. His eyes dropped to the male’s right knee, noticing the slight hesitation in his stance, surmising that his left leg compensated for his right.An injury left him permanently altered.He pocketed this information like a letter, folding it and storing it away in his mind for the minutes to come.
The male lashed out his free arm, sending a streak of Shadow towards Taryn. Pure, black energy rushed towards him so fast, Taryn barely had the time to register the hissing sounds of the dead that followed the Shadow Magick.
Taryn’s eyes went wide as he veered right, narrowly avoiding the Shadow. Taryn automatically retaliated with a blast of wind from his palm. His stomach lurched at the realization of who he was fighting.
Where thehellhad this guy come from? Taryn wassurethe Guild had taken out all the Shadow Wielders. He would have to work twice as hard to avoid getting hit while keeping this fight quiet.
The male fell backwards, Taryn’s wind knocking him off his feet. Taryn lunged, swords out, ready to take the opportunity to strike while he was down.
The male rolled free as Taryn’s blade jammed into the cobblestone, missing it by mere centimeters. The Elve sent another streak of darkness barreling towards Taryn, causing him to stumble backwards. The Shadow grazed the top of Taryn’s hand as he pivoted out of the way, black energy fading into his skin like ink bleeding into paper.
Taryn felt the effects immediately, disembodied voices of the dead whispering in his ears as the Magick infiltrated his bloodstream. The cold, prickling Shadow began to flow strong in his veins, starting from his hand and expanding out to his arms and shoulders. It was a subtle pain, but the pain wasn’t what Taryn was worried about. It was the fogginess creeping into his mind that caused him to slow.
“Fuck.” Taryn gritted between his teeth as he forced himself to move out of the way of yet another blast. His muscles tensed, sweat beading onto his brow as he forced himself to think back to everything he had studied on Shadow Wielders.
Shadow Magick was an Energy Magick gifted by the God of Death, a power only Elves could wield. Though the Magick didn’tkillits victims, it spread like a virus, slowly paralyzing the body over a period of time. While the paralyzing effects were temporary, it was a lethal power to come into contact with. If you got hit, you might as well consider yourself as good as dead.
Unsure of exactly how long it would take to kick in, Taryn chose his next move carefully.
“We knowwhatyou are,” the male said, coming to a slow stand as he unsheathed a crystal blade. “And we are going to rid the world of you.”
Whatever Taryn had expected this male to say, it wasn’t that. He had assumed this attack was for the Mrkynian Guild as a whole, not Taryn himself. Taryn’s face hardened, his fists clenching.
The Elven male lurched forward, swinging the crystal blade. Taryn parried and moved back to create some distance, stumbling slightly from the numbness that started to creep into all four of his limbs. This wasn’t an average sword fight. He couldn’t afford to get hit again.
If he didn’t act now, he was absolutely fucked.
The male began conjuring another blast of Shadow, forcing Taryn to unleash his God-given power to its utmost potential. He would deal with the consequences of blowing his cover later.
“If you knowwhatI am,” Taryn said as he released his blade. “Then you know what comes next.”
He called on his most lethal power, willing it to the forefront of his mind. It awakened, greedily rising to the surface after almost a year of slumber. Overwhelming power bloomed, starting in his chest and traveling down his arms. Taryn felt the buzz of power humming beneath his palms, accumulating until he had enough energy within him to release outwards. He thrust out his palms and felt the jolt of electricity igniting every pore in his body. He aimed.
Lightning cracked through the air. A deadly flash struck the Elve. The male gripped his shoulder, groaning in agony as he fell, whipping another streak of Shadow at Taryn as he went down.
This male certainly had some grit.
Taryn growled in frustration as he advanced. Blue lightning lit up Taryn’s face as he struck again. This time, he met his mark. Electricity skittered down the center of the male’s chest, leaving behind the smell of burnt flesh in the air.
By now, Taryn’s eyesight began to blur, the Shadow Magick taking its toll. Blackness intruded the edges of his vision as he knelt down and grabbed the male by the tunic. The male’s head fell back, limp, but his eyes were open. Just barely.
“Who sent you?” Taryn demanded, his words slurred together as he fought against the Shadow poisoning. Every muscle in Taryn’s body began to slow. He was running out of time. Taryn glanced at the golden broach attached to the male’s chest – a gilded vulture.
It certainly wasn’t the Lucien family that sent him. Their family emblem was a serpent, not a vulture. And if those who sent this attacker claimed they knew what Tarynwas, they would surely have to be eradicated.
The male smiled at Taryn through his dying haze. “The dawn of the Salamoon marks a new age,” the male croaked out. “A stolen Death. A touch of Fyre…”
The Elve’s words faded as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, his body void of any life in Taryn’s grasp.
Taryn dropped the male and stumbled backwards, slowly losing control of his motor skills. He couldn't think straight, unable to spare another second to ponder the male’s words. Taryn fought for clarity, losing his balance and straining to see beyond the black film coating his eyes.
He staggered down the street as fast as his body would take him and headed for the sewer hole through which he’d entered the city. He prayed to the Gods he wouldn’t pass out underground, removed the sewer lid and fell inside.
Taryn threw his room door open. He trudged to his washroom and gripped the sink, his vision blurring in spurts. There were two hands, four hands, then two again. When he unbuttoned his tunic, his hands felt like they were wading through mud. Black ink branched out like veins underneath his skin from hand to elbow.
