Darkness.
Somewhere beyond it, David could hear footsteps.
Voices drifted in and out, too distant for him to understand. He tried to open his eyes, but even that seemed to require more strength than he possessed.
For a brief moment, the battlefield returned.
Four Fallen soldiers were approaching Gamma Squad, their weapons drawn. David could barely distinguish their figures through his blurred vision.
He tried to focus on them, but his strength was fading.
His head slowly fell forward.
And darkness swallowed him again.
Then, from somewhere within that endless silence, a presence stirred.
Ancient.
Calm.
Watching.
A voice reached him, neither loud nor urgent, yet carrying an authority that seemed to exist beyond the darkness itself.
I AM:
"Stand."
David's eyes opened slightly.
He could see the ground beneath him and the blood dripping from his fingertips. The crimson spears remained embedded through his shoulder and leg, holding his weakened body upright alongside the tendrils wrapped around his arms.
He tried to remember what had happened.
He planted his good foot against the ground and tried to push himself upward.
His muscles trembled beneath the effort.
Slowly, his body began to rise.
The spear piercing his leg remained fixed in place, forcing the wounded flesh to drag upward along its crimson shaft.
David clenched his teeth.
He pushed harder.
The movement pulled his shoulder against the second spear, tearing through the damaged tissue as he tried to straighten.
A cry escaped his throat.
"Ahh...!"
His entire body shook.
The pain became unbearable.
His injured leg buckled, and his weight dropped back against the spears.
David gasped, struggling to breathe.
He tried once more to lift himself.
But his strength was gone.
His eyes rolled shut.
His head fell forward.
And he lost consciousness again.
The darkness returned.
But the ancient presence had not departed.
It remained within that silence, unmoving and immeasurably old.
Then the voice came again.
This time, it was not a request.
It was a command.
I AM:
"David. STAND."
David's fingers curled into fists.
His eyes remained closed.
The muscles along his arms tightened, pulling against the crimson tendrils binding his wrists.
One of the Fallen soldiers stopped walking.
"Wait."
The others turned.
"What's wrong?"
The soldier pointed toward David.
"Look at him."
David's head still hung forward, his blond hair covering his face.
But his body was moving.
His arms began flexing against the restraints, the muscles tightening beneath his torn uniform.
The tendrils stretched.
His hands clenched harder.
One of the crimson bindings snapped.
The soldier nearest him stepped back.
"He's moving."
"He's supposed to be unconscious!"
David's legs began to straighten.
The blood spear piercing his leg held firmly in place as his body slowly rose around it.
His flesh dragged upward along the shaft, opening the wound farther as blood spilled down his leg.
His shoulder followed.
The second spear pulled against the damaged muscle, tearing through it as his body continued rising.
David's face twisted in pain.
But his eyes remained closed.
Another tendril snapped.
Then another.
His arms pulled outward, stretching the remaining restraints until the blood-forged bindings began breaking apart.
"What the hell is he doing?" one of the Fallen demanded.
David's body jerked upward.
The last tendrils snapped.
He tore himself free of the spears and stumbled forward, blood pouring from the wounds in his shoulder and leg.
His knees buckled.
For an instant, it looked as though he would collapse.
Instead, his legs stiffened beneath him.
He remained standing.
Motionless.
His head hung forward, and his arms dangled at his sides.
The four Fallen soldiers stared at him.
"Is he even conscious?"
David's fingers twitched.
His breathing grew heavier.
A tremor traveled through his shoulders.
Then his eyes suddenly opened.
"AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
The scream tore from his throat as the pain struck him all at once.
His injured leg nearly gave way, and he staggered sideways, barely managing to remain upright.
He looked down at his blood-soaked uniform, struggling to understand why he was standing.
His shoulder burned.
His leg felt as though it were being torn apart.
He couldn't remember breaking free.
He couldn't remember getting to his feet.
One moment, there had been darkness.
Now he was standing in the middle of the battlefield.
A Fallen soldier raised his sword.
"The anomaly! He's still alive!"
"Kill him before he attacks!"
The four soldiers charged.
David lifted his head.
Their figures swayed in his vision, dark shapes rushing toward him through the haze of pain.
He could barely focus.
The nearest Fallen raised his sword.
David staggered backward, his wounded leg threatening to collapse beneath him.
He raised his trembling hand.
His pointing finger slowly touched his thumb.
For an instant, they remained pressed together.
Then he snapped them apart.
System:
Cosmic Spatial Severance — Activated
The air went still.
A thin, brilliant line appeared before David's outstretched hand.
It stretched outward with terrifying speed, widening into an enormous diagonal plane that cut across the battlefield.
The four Fallen never reached him.
The first soldier's sword separated in two.
Then his body.
The distortion passed through the remaining three before any of them could react.
Behind them, a massive boulder split cleanly along the same diagonal angle.
The ground opened beneath their feet, a deep incision cutting through the earth and continuing far beyond the soldiers.
For one impossible instant, the entire battlefield appeared divided along a single perfect line.
Then space closed.
The four Fallen collapsed.
The two halves of the boulder slid apart, crashing onto the grass.
David stood motionless.
His hand remained outstretched.
He stared at the fallen soldiers, struggling to understand what he was seeing.
He hadn't aimed at all four.
He hadn't even realized he'd activated his Gift.
The attack had simply happened.
His fingers trembled.
He tried to lower his arm.
The strength holding him upright disappeared.
His injured leg buckled, and David collapsed onto the ground.
He struck the grass hard, crying out as pain tore through his wounded shoulder.
For several seconds, he couldn't move.
Then something pale caught his attention.
Silver-white hair.
David slowly lifted his head.
Nyra.
She lay several meters away, her hair scattered across the bloodstained grass. Her twin Wind Crest Swords had fallen nearby, one resting just beyond her outstretched hand.
Her uniform was soaked with blood around the wound in her chest.
David stared at her.
"Nyra...?"
She didn't answer.
His heart began pounding.
"Nyra!"
He planted his good hand against the ground and tried to rise.
Pain shot through his leg.
He collapsed immediately.
"No..."
David tried again.
His injured shoulder trembled as he pushed against the grass.
He managed to lift himself onto one knee, but the wounded leg couldn't support his weight.
He fell forward.
"Come on!"
He struck the ground with his fist.
Then he looked toward Nyra.
She hadn't moved.
David reached forward, digging his fingers into the grass.
He pulled himself several inches closer.
The movement dragged his injured leg across the earth.
A sharp pain tore through his shoulder.
He cried out but continued pulling.
"Nyra... I'm coming."
He stretched his arm forward again.
His fingers closed around another handful of grass.
He pulled.
Blood marked the ground behind him.
He tried to use his wounded leg to push himself forward, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his body.
His leg gave out.
David gasped and pressed his forehead against the grass.
He couldn't stop.
Not now.
He raised his head.
"Nyra! I'm coming, Nyra!"
Nightreaver crashed against Lucian's Bloodcrest Blade.
The impact drove Lucian backward across the torn ground, his boots carving shallow tracks through the dirt.
He barely managed to recover before Lord Vaerik Morvayne struck again.
The curved blade swept toward his ribs.
Lucian twisted aside, but the edge caught his armor and opened another cut along his side.
He grunted and stumbled.
Vaerik followed immediately.
"You're slowing down."
Lucian raised his sword.
"Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you."
Vaerik's expression hardened.
He attacked.
Their blades collided three times in rapid succession.
Lucian blocked the first strike, redirected the second, and barely caught the third before it reached his throat.
The force drove him onto one knee.
His arms shook.
Vaerik leaned against the crossed weapons.
"You humans never know when to surrender."
Lucian gritted his teeth.
"Yeah, well, we've been told that's one of our more annoying qualities."
He twisted his Bloodcrest Blade, forcing Nightreaver aside, then kicked Vaerik in the knee.
The Fallen stepped back.
Lucian scrambled upright.
Across the battlefield, Castiel remained standing with both hands wrapped around his Shadow Blade.
Darkness gathered around him in dense, twisting currents.
The shadows had spread across the ground at his feet, flowing upward along the weapon until the blade itself was nearly impossible to see.
Castiel's arms trembled.
Sweat ran down his face.
He had been gathering power for far longer than he'd ever attempted before.
Every instinct told him to release it.
But the technique wasn't complete.
Not yet.
Lucian glanced toward him.
"Castiel! Anytime you feel like finishing that little experiment would be wonderful!"
Castiel kept his eyes on the gathering darkness.
"Almost!"
"That's what you said five minutes ago!"
"It hasn't been five minutes!"
"Feels like five!"
Vaerik looked between them.
His gaze settled on Castiel's weapon.
The shadows were no longer spreading outward.
They were compressing.
The darkness surrounding the blade had begun pulling inward, growing denser with every passing second.
Vaerik's expression changed.
He recognized the danger.
"Whatever he's preparing, it ends now."
Crimson mist erupted around his body.
Lucian immediately raised his sword.
"Oh, no, you don't!"
He lunged.
But Vaerik had already vanished.
"Bloodmist Step."
Lucian's blade passed through empty air.
He spun toward Castiel.
"CASTIEL!"
The crimson mist gathered directly in front of him.
Castiel looked up.
Vaerik emerged with Nightreaver raised.
Castiel tried to step backward, but the shadows surrounding his sword pulled violently against his arms.
The technique was ready.
Almost.
If he released it now, the gathered darkness would scatter before taking shape.
He needed another moment.
Vaerik closed the distance.
His curved sword swept toward Castiel's neck.
Castiel ducked beneath the strike, stumbling sideways.
The movement nearly broke his concentration.
Darkness flickered around his blade.
Vaerik turned with him.
"Too slow."
He lowered Nightreaver, aiming the curved point directly at Castiel's chest.
Castiel tried to raise his weapon.
He couldn't move quickly enough.
Vaerik thrust.
Lucian stepped between them.
The blade pierced his side.
"AAAAHH!"
Lucian's cry echoed across the battlefield.
Nightreaver drove through his armor and deep into his body.
Castiel's eyes widened.
"LUCIAN!"
Lucian staggered, his face twisting in agony.
Vaerik tried to pull the sword free.
But Lucian grabbed him.
He wrapped one arm around the Fallen's body and seized his sword arm with the other.
Vaerik snarled.
"Get off me!"
Lucian tightened his grip.
Blood ran down his side, soaking through his uniform.
"Not... happening."
He spread his fingers against Vaerik's armor.
"Crimson Threads!"
Blood-red strands erupted from his hands.
They wrapped around Vaerik's wrists, shoulders, and chest, winding tightly around his body.
More threads extended down his legs, binding them together.
Vaerik struggled.
The threads tightened.
Nightreaver shifted inside Lucian's wound.
Lucian screamed.
His knees nearly buckled, but he held on.
"Release me!" Vaerik roared.
He tried to tear his arms free.
Lucian pulled him closer, forcing the blade deeper into his own side.
"You're... not... going anywhere."
Castiel stared at them.
"Lucian, get away from him!"
Lucian shook his head.
His breathing was ragged.
"Finish... it."
"You're too close!"
Lucian pulled against the Crimson Threads, dragging Vaerik's upper body away from his own.
The bindings tightened around the Fallen's shoulders and neck, holding him upright and exposing his chest.
Vaerik twisted violently.
The threads began to strain.
Lucian's strength was fading.
He looked directly at Castiel.
"NOW, CASTIEL!"
Castiel tightened his grip on the Shadow Blade.
The darkness surrounding it collapsed inward.
Every shadow he'd gathered compressed along the weapon's edge, forming a narrow band of black energy that swallowed the light around it.
The pressure was immense.
His arms shook as he raised the blade.
Vaerik saw the darkness gathering.
For the first time, fear crossed his face.
"No!"
He struggled harder.
Lucian held him.
Castiel stepped forward.
"Shadow Requiem!"
He swung.
The concentrated darkness erupted from the Shadow Blade in a single devastating arc.
It struck Vaerik across his exposed upper body.
His armor resisted for an instant.
Then the darkness cut through it.
The attack passed cleanly through the Fallen, severing his armor and the flesh beneath before continuing into the empty battlefield.
The shadow arc dissolved.
Vaerik's eyes widened.
His mouth opened, but no sound emerged.
The Crimson Threads binding him began to loosen.
Nightreaver slipped from his hand.
The Fallen lieutenant collapsed.
He did not move again.
Lucian stared at the body.
Then he looked toward Castiel.
A faint smile appeared on his bloodstained face.
"Please tell me..."
His knees buckled.
Castiel rushed forward.
He caught Lucian before he struck the ground.
"...that worked."
Castiel lowered him carefully onto the grass.
"Yeah," he said, his voice shaking. "It worked."
Lucian released a weak breath.
"Good..."
His eyes closed.
"Lucian?"
Castiel shook his shoulder.
"Lucian, stay with me."
There was no answer.
"Lucian!"
Castiel pressed two fingers against his neck.
A pulse.
Weak, but present.
He leaned closer.
Lucian was still breathing.
Castiel released a trembling breath.
"Don't you dare die on me."
He pulled a field dressing from his equipment and pressed it firmly against the wound in Lucian's side.
Blood immediately soaked through the material.
Castiel added another dressing, securing both as tightly as he could.
His hands trembled.
He looked toward Vaerik's body.
The Fallen lay motionless beside his fallen weapon.
Shadow Requiem had worked.
But the technique had drained nearly everything Castiel had left.
His arms felt heavy, and his legs threatened to buckle whenever he shifted his weight.
He looked down at Lucian.
"You idiot," he whispered.
His voice cracked.
"You absolute idiot."
Lucian didn't respond.
Castiel carefully slipped one arm beneath his shoulders and the other beneath his knees.
He lifted him, taking care not to put pressure against the wounded side.
The added weight nearly brought Castiel to his knees.
He steadied himself.
Then he looked across the battlefield.
He couldn't see the others clearly through the distance and damaged terrain.
"Come on, Lucian."
He adjusted his grip.
"Let's find everyone."
David's fingers slipped against the blood-soaked grass.
He fell onto his wounded shoulder.
"AAHH!"
Pain shot through his chest.
For a moment, his vision darkened.
He pressed his forehead against the ground, struggling to breathe.
Then he lifted his head.
Nyra was still lying ahead of him.
He could see her face now.
Her eyes were partially open.
"Nyra..."
He reached forward.
She moved.
It was barely noticeable.
Her head slowly turned toward the sound of his voice.
David stopped crawling.
"Nyra?"
Her eyes found him.
He saw her lips move.
"Da..."
The whisper was too faint for him to hear clearly.
David's chest tightened.
"I'm here!"
He dragged himself forward.
"I'm right here, Nyra!"
Her arm lay against the grass.
She tried to lift it.
The movement was so small that her hand barely shifted.
But her fingers stretched toward him.
David reached forward.
His injured leg dragged behind him as he pulled himself another few inches.
"Don't try to move," he called. "Just stay awake, okay?"
His hand slipped.
He caught himself before his face struck the ground.
He looked up again.
Nyra was still watching him.
Her fingers moved.
David reached farther.
"Please, Nyra. Just hold on. I'm coming."
He pulled himself forward.
His wounded shoulder scraped across the grass, sending another sharp pain through his body.
He cried out but refused to stop.
Only a little farther.
He could almost reach her.
David stretched his arm as far as it would go.
Nyra's fingers extended toward his.
Their hands were separated by a narrow stretch of bloodstained grass.
David tried to pull himself closer.
His strength failed.
He collapsed, his arm still stretched toward her.
For several seconds, he lay motionless, struggling to breathe.
Then his fingers dug into the ground again.
He lifted his head.
Nyra was still looking at him.
David swallowed against the pain in his throat.
"I'm here, Nyra..."
He reached toward her.
And began pulling himself forward again.