Late into the night, the men kept the oil lamps lit, their source a gutter system which ran along the city walls and through the homes, distributing precious light to those who needed it. It was an invention exclusive to the city, and one that proved to help keep peace among the townsfolk.
In the morning, dawn’s rosy fingers shone through the arched windows, painting a masterpiece of light and shadow on the stone ground. Through this, the rippling darkness lay solid next to the white of the sky, never mixing but always remaining one after the other. Outside, the air was white and filled with swirling snow, falling like moments in the glistening banks of memory.
All night, the cold had slithered through the windows and Malice, filling his blood and bones with ice, and cutting at his hands like red knives. He awoke, in more pain than usual, feeling the frigid air inside his chest like icy fingers.
He looked outside to where the snow fell and shuddered, wishing that he could do something to stop the tumbling white. It struck him then that he was truly alive- that he was seeing what he was seeing, and that every breath was a miracle coursing through a strong but delicate body.
Soon, it would all end.
It would stop.
He would be separated from the sunny, beautiful world, and forgotten beneath the mud while life went on without him. There was no way out now.
Angrily, he raised his fist, slamming it down hard on the stone floor. It was not something he thought about- simply an instinct. A reaction to fear.
Fear? No… that wasn’t allowed. Everyone else was allowed to be afraid, but he wasn’t. There was no one to watch him- to look after and soothe his mind. He was alone, and he would remain so for all eternity.
“Wake up…” he muttered, wanting someone
anyone to hear him, and to distract him.
Somewhere in the bridge between sleep and consciousness, he had lost his way, and now his mind wandered paths that he would never choose to travel.
What came next was a blur- a slow, gray mesh of stone, of light, of armour and of useless words. He wandered the black and white quietly, the others seeing in him an ethereal heroism, an inspiration and a strength which filled them with hope for tomorrow’s sun.
There was the sound of a horn.
*
The battlefield moved quickly, and existed in a perpetual wheel of sound and pain. Blood spattered the frozen mud, where men lay lifeless against the crimson snow.
Kain rode through the town atop a dark brown mount, swinging his sword with so much skill that men fell dead in his path. With expert hands, he pulled at the reigns, bringing his horse into a sharp turn toward the steps of the temple. He would burn it, he thought, to set an example of what he thought of his enemy.
Without halting, he grabbed hold of one of his soldier’s spears, setting it on fire with his own demon magic, and riding toward the stone steps of his destination. He lowered his wrist, bringing the flame to the wooden support, when suddenly he was dismounted. Something had pushed him from his steed.
Without faltering, he hit the ground in perfect balance, quickly swinging his sword at the fast-moving soldier who had taken him down.
”You again…” he muttered, rotating his wrist above his head so that his blade turned toward Malice’s forehead.
“I’m happy to see you to.” The Theiran replied, catching his enemy’s forearm and driving his dagger toward his stomach.
Kain brought up his other fist, knocking the blade with the back of his covered arm and punching Malice beneath the chin.
The mage faltered but did not stop, he tucked in his fingers and threw up his arm, driving the base of his palm upward into Kain’s nose.
The demon cried aloud, bringing his hands over his bloody face. Without hesitation, Malice opened his palm, sweeping a gust of wind toward his enemy. Kain fell backward, hitting the walls of the temple.
The Theiran ran toward him, ready to deliver another blow, only to be stopped when Kain pulled the burning spear from the ground and thrust it toward him. The object missed, landing in an abandoned stall and spreading its flames quickly.
Soon, the two were separated from the rest of the battlefield by a wall of smoke and fire- an impassable labyrinth which spelled death for one of them.
Kain laughed, red flames and hatred flickering in his eyes. He raised his spear and sword, the sweat from the firey heat dripping off of his greasy hair. With strong arms, he whipped the bladed weapon forward, narrowly missing his enemy.
“You’re lasting longer than your friend did.” Kain muttered, arrogantly “But then again, with him you did all the work for me.”
Malice called the wind to give him lightness, and sprung from the ground with an airy grace. His twin daggers pulsed in his hands, and with ease he slashed Kain across the face.
Blood spattered on the ground, as the demon grabbed at pain, losing steady grip on his spear.
Malice moved back, kicking the wooden object in half with precision before bringing his foot sideways into his enemy’s face.
Kain winced in pain but grabbed the Theiran’s foot, dropping the already broken spear in order to do so. He was burning with anger now, pulsing with hate. He twisted Malice’s ankle to the side and was about to break it, but the air grew light and Malice pushed his foot to the side with the force of a storm. Kain fell back once more, but did not even have a chance to recover. The flames swirled around him and crept up his cape, consuming it too quickly to be natural.
He saw his death now- he stared at the eternal and knew he was about to plunge into nothingness. Angrily, he ran toward Malice, bringing up his sword and thrusting it with all his power, only to have it caught between the warrior’s crossed daggers. The two struggled like this for a moment, strength pressed against strength in a last attempt at victory.
“You can’t overpower me, you little bastard.” Kain gritted his teeth, angrily, his own adrenaline and hatred taking over.
“I don’t need to overpower you” Malice answered, with a fierceness never seen before.
With one last effort, he grabbed the broken spear and hurled it at the oil gutters that ran above Kain.
There was a scream, and in a burst of red and black, it was all over.