Chapter 10 – Back-to-Back with a Traitor
The Wastes burned with ghost-fire.
Ash-wraiths swarmed in from every direction, their shrieks slicing through the air like rusted blades, their bodies half-formed — smoke, bone, and hate. The ground was littered with crumbling corpses from the zealot fight, each one splitting apart and rising again with hollow eyes.
Kael's sword was a blur of steel, every swing cutting shadows that dissolved into dust only to swirl back together. His arm ached, ribs screaming, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Not here, not now.
Beside him, Darric Voss was a storm of his own. His greatsword carved wide arcs, shattering wraiths with sheer brute force. Every strike left the ground trembling, every swing drenched in violence.
For one twisted heartbeat, it felt like the old days — Kael and Darric standing shoulder to shoulder, mercenaries against the world.
Then Darric growled through clenched teeth, "Don't think this means I've forgiven you."
Kael parried a claw, kicked a wraith in the chest, then rammed his blade through its face. He grunted, "Didn't ask you to."
Nyra stood a few paces away, hands raised, stormlight blazing so bright it turned the night into a jagged dawn. Lightning tore from her fingertips, blasting wraiths into ash, each strike shaking the ground. Her cloak whipped in the wind, her face pale but defiant.
But every blast drained her. Kael could see it — the tremor in her hands, the blood at the corner of her mouth, the way her knees buckled each time the storm left her.
"Nyra!" Kael shouted, ducking under a swipe. "Hold back! You'll kill yourself!"
Her eyes snapped to him, fierce and blazing. "Then stop giving me reasons to use it!"
A wraith lunged from the side. Darric intercepted, cleaving it clean in two, black ash exploding across his armor. He spat in the dirt. "Gods, your woman's a damn torch waiting to burn out."
Kael snarled. "She's not mine."
"Good," Darric barked, swinging again. "Means I don't have to feel bad when she drops."
Kael's blade lashed out, severing a wraith's head. He shoved Darric with his shoulder, forcing space between them. "Say another word, and I'll cut you down before the wraiths do."
Darric's single eye gleamed, wild and amused, even as sweat streaked his scarred face. "There's the traitor I remember."
Before Kael could answer, the ground shook.
The air went colder, heavy. Shadows thickened.
From the haze of smoke, a massive wraith emerged — taller than a man, its body wrapped in chains of black flame, its skull-like head crowned with jagged horns. The Ash-lord.
The lesser wraiths howled as it approached, rallying to its presence like soldiers to a banner.
Kael swore. "Of course there's a bigger one."
Nyra staggered, stormlight flaring. "It's feeding on the zealots. Every soul left unburned is fuel."
The Ash-lord's hollow maw opened, a soundless scream that rattled Kael's teeth. The firepit blew out, plunging them into shadow.
Darric snarled, gripping his sword with both hands. "You take the left. I'll take the right. Like old times."
Kael hesitated, the weight of old blood between them heavy as chains. But there was no choice.
He nodded once. "Just this once."
They charged.
Kael rolled under a sweeping claw, slashing at the Ash-lord's knee. His blade bit deep, black smoke hissing out like venom. The creature staggered, shrieking. Darric swung high, his greatsword cleaving down on its shoulder with a thunderous crack. Chains snapped, shadows pouring like liquid fire.
The beast roared, backhanding them both with claws of smoke. Kael flew into the dirt, pain flaring through his ribs. Darric hit harder, his sword skittering across the stones.
The Ash-lord loomed, its maw opening, drawing them toward it like a sucking void. Kael's sword slipped in his grip, his strength failing—
Then thunder split the world.
Nyra stood at the center of the storm, her entire body blazing with lightning, hair whipping in an unseen wind. The stormlight wasn't a flicker now — it was an inferno, burning her veins like molten fire.
She screamed, unleashing it all.
A column of lightning tore down from the heavens, slamming into the Ash-lord. Shadows shredded. Chains shattered. The creature howled, its form unraveling under the storm's fury. The lesser wraiths shrieked in unison, dissolving into ash.
When the light faded, nothing remained but scorched stone and silence.
Kael staggered to his feet, chest heaving, sword slick in his grip. He turned toward Nyra — just in time to see her collapse.
He caught her before she hit the ground, her skin cold, her breath ragged. Her eyes fluttered open, stormlight fading from their depths.
"You idiot," Kael whispered. "You'll burn yourself hollow."
Her lips curved faintly, weakly. "And you'll keep me alive anyway."
Kael swallowed hard, holding her close.
Behind him, Darric retrieved his greatsword, his good eye fixed on them both. For once, there was no sneer, no mockery. Only a grim sort of respect.
Then his mouth curled again, sharp as a knife. "Storm take me… I might almost regret killing you later."
Kael rose slowly, Nyra in his arms, his sword still in hand. His voice was low, dangerous.
"Try it now, and you won't get the chance."
The two men stared at each other across the ash-strewn ground, the silence taut, the weight of old blood heavy between them.
The war with the wraiths was over.
But the war between Kael Thorne and Darric Voss had only just begun.