Chapter 83: Death vs Elunor
Death’s wings folded like a curtain drawn across the sunand the sand stilled. The elves held their breath, one hand never leaving a rein, eyes wide with the strange mix of wonder and contempt only ancient races can wear.
The dragon’s huge skull dipped, then, with a sound like silk tearing, the scales slid and folded, shrinking in on themselves. Bone and muscle collapsed inward until the terror of the sky was replaced by a woman stepping out of shadow-smoke.
She did not look like the thing Stephan had fought and fractured. Violet hair fell in a glossy waterfall across her shoulders again. Her skin was pale as the underbelly of a cloud. The faint shimmer of shadow mist clung to her. She moved with the easy grace of someone who’d never learned to hurry.
Vaenya’s breath was a small sound of pure delight; Elunor’s smile had gone thin and watchful.
Death bowed to Stephan with the tiniest, most formal tilt of the head, eyes lifted only long enough for him to see the violet glow catch in her irises. "I don’t need my final form to fight them, my liege," she said in a low voice, every syllable measured. There was no arrogance in it, only the dry certainty of a blade that knows its edge.
Stephan cocked an eyebrow, that savage grin returning. "Do whatever suits you, Death." His hand rested on the hilt of his sword but did not draw. She’d earned the right to choose her field.
She straightened, and without theatrics stepped forward until the sand settled beneath her bare feet. The air changed, smaller now than the roar of a dragon, but more intimate and colder. Elunor’s horse shifted nervously; Vaenya’s fingers tightened on her reins. The white armor that had glittered like moon-ice suddenly seemed thin and flimsy against what stood before it.
Elunor was the first to dismount, his movements smooth and almost regal. He reached back and tapped Olath lightly between the shoulders, as if he were merely a child to be scolded.
"Stay put, little gnome," he said softly, mockingly. "Be a good dog. I’ll deal with her quickly."
Vaenya’s lips curved in a smile, though her eyes never left Death. "Be quick. We can’t afford delays. Ezron must be reached before dusk."
Elunor’s grin widened, sharp and arrogant. "These humans don’t know what a true warrior elf is. They’ll learn."
The sword slid free of its sheath with a hiss, its edge gleaming white in the sunlight. He leveled it at Death, stepping onto the sand as if stepping onto a stage.
"Come then, witch," he taunted. "Face me."
But Death didn’t move. She stood utterly still, the faint ripple of shadow trailing like mist from her hands. Her violet eyes locked on him calm and unblinking. She was waiting.
Elunor scoffed. "Silent defiance? Fine. I’ll grant you a clean death."
Then he surged forward. His boots barely touched the ground, each step a blur. With both hands tight on his hilt, he slashed across Death’s chest, fast and merciless.
The blade cut through nothing.
Elunor staggered as momentum carried him past her. His eyes went wide, the grin faltering.
"What....?"
Stephan smirked from the side. "Soul phasing," he said, almost conversational. "I struggled with that trick back in the mountain."
Elunor spun back to face her, disbelief twisting his features. "What sorcery is this?"
Death hadn’t flinched. She simply turned her head slightly, watching him like one watches a child swinging a stick at shadows.
From behind, Vaenya’s voice lashed out. "Stop wasting time, Elunor! Use your sand magic!"
He grit his teeth, jaw tightening. "Fine."
The blade in his hands began to crumble. Grain by grain, it dissolved until the steel was nothing but a stream of golden dust. With a sharp gesture, he spread his arms wide.
The desert answered.
All around them, the dunes began to stir, rising in curtains of shifting earth. The air thickened with rolling waves of sand, spiraling toward Elunor’s command.
Olath shielded his eyes, coughing against the storm. The horses stamped nervously, nearly breaking from control.
Elunor’s voice rang out over the storm, his white hair whipping in the wind. "Let’s see your phantoms phase through this!"
The ground shook as the desert itself turned against Stephan and Death. The desert wind screamed as Elunor raised his hands higher. Sand surged like a tidal wave, spiraling into a vortex that blotted out the sun. It whirled around Stephan and Death, cutting off every exit, the grains sharp as blades, the storm thick as smoke.
"Now," Elunor growled, sweat shining on his brow, "let’s see you vanish through this."
The swirling wall collapsed inward, crashing down like the closing jaws of some colossal beast. The dunes themselves seemed to rise up, swallowing both Stephan and Death whole.
The roar of rushing sand shook the ground. Horses reared, whinnying in panic. Olath, bound and helpless, shut his eyes tight as grit stung his skin.
Elunor’s smirk returned. "Crushed to dust."
But as the sand storm subsided, his victory withered before it even began.
Death stood exactly where she had been, untouched. The sand passed through her like smoke through a phantom, her form unwavering, her gaze locked unblinking on him.
Elunor’s throat tightened. "Impossible..." His magic raged harder, but no matter how violently he commanded the earth, no matter how heavy the dunes pressed, she was untouchable. The grains cut the ground, carved into stone, shredded the air itself, yet Death was like a shadow painted on the world, immune to the storm.
"Why won’t you...." His voice cracked with frustration. "Why won’t you die?!"
Stephan’s laugh cut through the storm. He moved just as the next wave of sand shot forward, a sharpened spear of earth. But Stephan wasn’t there. His body blurred, vanishing in one instant and reappearing yards away in the next, his boots kicking off the dunes with blistering speed.
The sand snapped through where he’d been a heartbeat earlier, shattering stone, swallowing empty air. Stephan twisted and flipped mid-stride, his grin wide, sharp with adrenaline.
"You’ll have to do better than that, elf." His voice was mocking, carried on the wind. "Your tricks are too slow."
Elunor’s jaw clenched. His palms slammed into the sand, veins pulsing in his temple. He poured his fury into the earth, summoning jagged pillars that erupted like spears from beneath Stephan’s feet.
But the human was gone again, dodging each strike with effortless bursts of superhuman speed. A blur of black and violet streaked across the dunes, kicking dust into the air. Stephan was faster than the desert itself, faster than the storm trying to consume him.
Vaenya’s eyes narrowed, her fingers tightening on her reins. Her horse stamped nervously as she studied the fight. "He’s too quick," she murmured under her breath, though her gaze was fixed not on Stephan, but on Death.
Death finally moved.
One instant she was still, her form calm and ghostlike. The next, she bolted forward with a crack of displaced air, faster than even Stephan’s bursts. Sand parted around her like waves before a prow.
Her fist drew back, violet soul energy coiling into it like a star collapsing into her knuckles. The sheer weight of it distorted the air, humming with lethal intent.
Elunor turned too late.
His eyes widened as Death’s figure loomed before him, her speed monstrous, her aura burning violet fire. The punch came for his chest, enough force to shatter bone, to snuff out breath, to end him in a single strike.
But the impact never came.
At the last instant, a blur of white light descended from above. Vaenya leapt from her horse with the grace of a hawk in mid-dive, her arms snapping into a cross before her chest.
Death’s violet-lit fist slammed into Vaenya’s braced forearms.
The desert exploded.
The impact thundered outward in a shockwave that split the sand, scattering dunes like waves in a storm. Horses screamed and reared, nearly throwing their the gnome. Olath toppled sideways into the dust, eyes wide in shock.
Stephan shielded his face with his forearm, gritting his teeth as the blast whipped grit into his skin. The ground beneath them fractured, spiderweb cracks racing outward from the point of impact.
Vaenya held her ground.
Her boots sank inches into the sand, her golden armor ringing from the vibration, her white hair whipping violently around her face. Sparks of violet fire and golden light writhed where her arms locked against Death’s punch. Her eyes glimmered like molten gold, unshaken, unwavering.
Elunor stumbled back, his mouth half-open in disbelief. "Vaenya... you..."
Death’s eyes narrowed, her voice low, calm, and terrible. "How? How can you block my punches."
Vaenya smiled through the strain, her arms trembling under the monstrous power pressing against her. "So this... is the strength of a forged revenant." Her voice carried both awe and curiosity. "Magnificent."
Death pushed harder, violet energy crackling brighter, shadows swirling like smoke around her. The ground gave way beneath them, collapsing into a shallow crater, the raw power of their clash swallowing stone and sand alike.
Stephan’s pulse hammered. He hadn’t expected this, not the intervention, not the raw strength in Vaenya’s frame. His gut twisted. She wasn’t ordinary. Not at all.
Elunor’s hand twitched toward his sand again, his jaw tight. But even he hesitated, stunned by the sight of Death’s strength being matched.
Vaenya tilted her head slightly, her smile widening as golden light began to crawl along her arms like veins igniting. "But tell me, revenant... do you believe you are the only one blessed with a soul not fully their own?"
The words struck Stephan like ice. His eyes widened, his instincts screaming.
The light on Vaenya’s arms flared brighter, pressing back against Death’s punch with a force that set the air trembling.
Death’s expression shifted. Her brow furrowed, her lips parted in the faintest flicker of surprise.
And Stephan realized with a chill that ran through his bones, Vaenya wasn’t merely an elf.