Curselock

Chapter 222: Darkness

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From the tattoo on Leland’s back, a white halo of shimmering metal and utter darkness peeled. He silently floated out and away from his host, like a kite against a breezy day. Growing in size, Lodestar slowly rotated, a ring ever moving, a portal ever opened. A story then appeared, a tale of sheer power and limitless scope.

It radiated from the darkness within Lodestar, teasing just a hint of what was to come. Both Leland and Ashford stared at the parasitic weapon, but each for different reasons. Ashford for the simple fact that his opponent had just unleashed an unknown powerful weapon. Hesitance was a proper course of action, even for an immortal.

Leland, however, stared at Lodestar for the simple reason that Lodestar summoned himself. A game was being played, and Leland felt surrounded by two powerful enemies. Dominance or death, dying to a parasite or a murderer.

“Don’t give me that look, young host,” Lodestar said aloud, his voice screechy, like nails on a chalkboard.

Ashford reacted far faster than Leland could. A blaze of green miasma flicked from his outstretched palm, the blast consuming the whole area between him and the parasitic weapon.

Leland threw himself out of the way, six full-stride Erupting Steps taking him to safety. When he turned back, Lodestar was caked in diabolical energy. Emerald ate at the metal of Lodestar, a million toxic teeth clinking against his frame and function.

Yet, Leland felt no issue through his and Lodestar’s connection. In fact, he could only hear a tired, but jovial, chuckle.

A pull emanated from the weapon, and soon all of the green miasma disappeared, sucked into the darkness that filled Lodestar.

The word hung in the air as both Leland and Ashford stared at the weapon. The moment passed when the Undying Harbinger stepped.

Movement caught Leland’s eyes and instinct threw him back. Ashford appeared, a dagger of sickness thrashing forward like a shark darting for the kill. Both men danced back and forth along the bones of the fallen Lord, one a cat, the other a mouse.

Lodestar made no move to help.

Lightning beat with Leland’s every step, rhythmic and smooth. Two sets of wings, one dark the other light, kept up with his speed and solidified his balance. Every time he teetered, a wing would level out, setting him to safety.

After a particularly close dodge, Leland shouted, “Kneel before me!”

Violet from his halo mixed with coursing green from his eyes. Flames bloomed like beautiful flowers in spring around Ashford. Heatless fire surrounded the man, the licking magic far taller than the person it imprisoned.

For the time he remained within, green mist leaked from the Undying Harbinger. But that only lasted for a moment, Ashford grit his teeth and stepped through the flames.

Pain.

For the first time since meeting Ashford all those months ago, Leland saw the man in pain. Even when Carmon obliterated his body with echoed attacks, the man had not been in pain. The title of Undying wasn’t just given out. It was earned, through body and mind. Countless deaths, unbelievable pain tolerance. A straight face even when beheaded or punctured through the heart.

Until now.

Even Ashford was taken back from the sudden needles across his skin. He felt a brief stint of stomach flu, his head also began to spin. For a heartbeat or two, he saw Leland differently. Up until now, he was just a boy playing on a level far beyond his station. Now, Ashford realized he was a killer in the skin of a—

Lodestar moved, silently drifting across the battlefield as to stand between Ashford and Leland. The darkness within the white ring ebbed and flowed, waning like the moon but rising like the sun. The tale continued, but this time it was for all to hear.

Power, excitement, life, death.

Ashford hadn’t felt fear in a long, long time. What was there to fear when you couldn’t die?

He now had an answer.

A faint pulse erupted in the connection between Leland and Lodestar. The host and parasite, in that moment, were one and the same.

Ashford then exploded.

The sky turned green, the bones of the fallen Lord morphed into something akin to crystalline slime. Spikes jutted out from the Harbinger, each growing sharper and thicker as they neared Leland.

“Pay attention!”

Leland reacted. There was no thought, no planning. Nothing but will and a reason to live. Flooding to life from the Soul Lord’s cloak-necklace, three souls of the Damned came to their master’s call. They appeared in the blink of an eye, each wearing full plated armor woven from the lost souls they safeguarded.

Two stepped up and blocked Ashford’s spike attack, each pierced like a pin cushion but ultimately ending the frontal assault. The third appeared to Leland’s flank, catching Ashford’s sword with open hands.

A bell tolled, and the darkness within Lodestar shifted.

Oblivion circled Ashford as he fought to take back his sword from the soul of the Damned. The green of the air dipped in hue, turning far more somber. Despite being out for himself, Lodestar still needed a host. And, at this moment, he agreed with his host. The attack was too close, they needed distance.

Leland was a Warlock, after all.

From within the darkness, came a light. Hollow, direct, and pure, a white globe passed to the living realm from oblivion. It floated above the battlefield, becoming a full moon against the backdrop of a starless night.

It had previously been a nice day, all things considered, in the Palemarrow Kingdom. The sun was shining, the sky was spotless besides a few fluffy clouds.

But now? Now it was beyond midnight.

Darkness far and wide, the only illumination came from the “moon” Lodestar summoned. It highlighted just enough of the battlefield to be proper, but darkened far, far more. To Leland, the city disappeared. To Ashford, the sight reminded him of the Undying Lord’s prison.

“What is this?” he asked, something primal firing off in his voice.

Even in the face of such an unknown effect, Leland couldn’t help but smile. Why? Because he knew Lodestar wasn’t done.

Appearing from the darkness within his ring, Lodestar summoned more.

What they were, Leland didn’t know. And he would have bet that no mortal alive knew what they were. He watched as they drained out of the portal to oblivion, a flood of bug-like creatures the size of rats but the shape of mangled locus. Together, the bugs rushed Ashford.

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Determined not to be outdone, Leland commanded his own summons to move. From the darkness came his crows, each dive bombing the Harbinger. Between the bugs and birds, Ashford’s skin blistered with bites and scrapes. All healed in seconds, however.

Ashford took in his dark surroundings, choosing to act—

“Kneel before me!”

His eyes went wide as violet claimed the dark. From the bug-covered ground, fire came to life in a wide circle around him. Again, he didn’t waste time waiting to rush through the heatless flames, although this time the soul of the Damned entrusted with taking his soul made an appearance.

To Leland, the soul was just like any other. To Ashford, it was the end. Undying, immortal, cursed. Whatever the case, in that moment, Ashford realized that there was a way to kill him. His body was what was Undying, not his soul.

With a swift kick, Ashford sundered the coming soul. Green mist expelled from its ethereal form, only to form like a cloud on a windy day. The soul of the Damned recollected itself, its eyes piercing through the artificial darkness.

“Can you hold him in place for me?” Leland whispered to Lodestar.

The portal to oblivion was slowly rotating. “If you accept—”

“Is now the time for that? Can’t you just work together with me? Your brother—”

“Do not speak of my brother—”

Leland growled, “Your brother asked me to protect you, why can’t you help me help him?”

Movement caught Leland’s eye. From the darkness, came green. Just green. It extinguished the fire of Circle of Souls, creating a path for Ashford’s attack.

It came like the focused light of a lantern through a glass lens, thin, powerful, and focused. Aiming for Leland’s heart, the rod of pure miasma ripped the battlefield in half, bringing forth a silent understanding.

The battle was truly starting.

There was no time to react, only to act. A soul from Leland’s cloak-necklace moved to protect him, standing before him like a man taking a cannon shot to the chest. The rod of magic cut right through the soul, continuing without a dip in power or scope. It did, however, buy Leland enough time to step away.

“Let me give you the power to end this—”

“Shut up!” Leland snarled. “Help me or leave! I’d rather die here and now then turn into whatever you have plans for!”

Lodestar watched his host. For how long had he been resting in the realm of the divine? How long had it been since his creation to placement on Leland’s arm? His other hosts had all died, and by the end of this battle, another would as well. That was fine.

Ashford appeared inches from Leland, punch already wound up. His immortal fist stopped dead as two souls of the Damned appeared from the Soul Lord’s necklace. They caught the attack, each armored with the mangled remains of the lost souls they were tasked with holding.

Lodestar watched Leland skip backwards, lighting shocking from every step. How long had it been since he saw his brother? Since he became a Lord and Lodestar became… this. It had been a good deal at the start, but a tool was hardly a person. A soul, crafted into a weapon. One meant to rival the Lords, one meant to transcend all.

Lodestar knew he’d never make it, not with the kind of hosts he had.

A streak of color too fast for Leland ended with blood. From his mid forearm on, only absentee air remained. Hand, fingers, wrist, gone, sectioned to lay waste on the bones of a dead Lord. Leland screamed, the pain of losing an arm searing.

Ashford yanked Leland’s stunned body over, holding him in the air by his shirt. “I’m disappointed.”

Watching from a distance, Lodestar thought about goading his host with the promise of power. But he didn’t. Instead, he saw the blood dripping from his host’s clenched mouth. Figuring the boy had cracked a tooth or bit his lip, he wondered if this was it. Another host dead. The battle was over, right?

Leland swallowed, the wad of bloody spit feeling like a rock as it slithered down his throat. Despite the pain, despite the blood loss, he forced himself to give Ashford a toothy grin.

“Sorry I couldn’t kill you.”

The apology gave both Lodestar and Ashford pause.

“What?” the latter asked.

Then, Lodestar saw something. A faint, almost nonexistent glimmer of something. In Leland’s eye. The battle wasn’t over.

“That’s what you wanted, right?” the Legacy of Curses asked. “For me to kill you, so you could finally be free.”

The Legacy of the Undying Lord didn’t react. The Lord of the Undying watching through his pawn’s eyes did, however. He snarled and raged, each thrash banging against his ethereal restraints and knocking on his immortal prison’s walls.

Ashford tried to stay calm, but the weight in his mind doubled.

“That’s why you didn’t kill me instantly, right? That’s why you gave some half-assed retort about ‘staying mortal,’ right? You wanted someone to fight and kill you. But your Lord would never have allowed that—”

“Shut up.”

The two words pressed on Leland’s chest, each cutting into him like caustic tacks. He continued anyway, “Why else would you have left the Umbra so randomly!? Because you are a Harbinger to a Vile Lord. He forced you—”

An earthquake rumbled in Ashford’s eyes. Leland watched the eternal depth and darkness, both frothing at the Undying Lord’s will.

Kill him now!

There was the command from the prisoned Lord. It crushed Ashford’s mind, resolving him to nothing but a mindless doll. He had to follow the order, that was what he—

“Fight it.”

Ashford blinked, an ounce of his own personality coming out.

“Fight it, and I’ll give you the death you wish.”

Before the sentence even finished flowing from Leland’s mouth, he removed the last soul in the clock-necklace. This one was a bit different from the others. Visually, it maybe was a bit larger. Functionally it was the exact same as all the other souls he had taken. But this one was from a Witch. This one was worthy of obliteration. And best of all, he had finally gotten his target to stand still.

The flames of cataclysmic power gathered in Leland’s hand as the soul ignited.