Once Betrayed Never Forgotten

Chapter 89: The Battle of Blood and Flames

Within moments, the scene unfolds before me as I fly towards them in my blood mist form. The larger group is chaotic, a frenzy of fiery forms that dance and clash. In the midst of it all, a lone figure–a tall, slender young woman, her form surrounded by dancing flickering flames–struggles against her captors.

For a moment I think she’s being burned at the stake, and the thought brings back the terrible memory of my own ordeal in the village – but then I realise the flames are coming from within her.

She’s a Fire Wraith, like her captors.

In a split second, I glimpse pale skin – almost bone white, a sickly pallor – and a head of long, silky strawberry blonde hair the colour of firelight, shining like molten copper trailing over her bright, vivid cyan blue robes. Her ears are long and pointed like Bloodbane’s, giving her the air of some mythical elvish being. Her hands are bound at the wrists with a pair of black obsidian shackles, and her lovely arms are marred with deep cuts, from which bright reddish golden metallic blood flows, glowing like embers. Her golden blood seems to burst into flame as it runs down her arms, as though ber very blood is the essence of fire. Even her blue robes are torn in places, revealing nasty wounds inflicted by her captors. I catch sight of her glowing golden eyes as she spots me, in my blood mist form, racing towards the group. I see a look of surprise, but also pride and steely defiance etched across her beautiful face.

as the m

most beautiful creature I’ve ever r seen with

She’s impossibly stunning, a supernatural beauty that even exceeds Tatiana, who up until this point was

It’s clear that the group of male Fire Wraiths surrounding her has been torturing her, and the one closest is holding a wickedly curved scimitar dripping with her golden blood. Like her, they are tall and superhumanly beautiful, with long reddish blonde hair, golden eyes and pointed ears, but they are about ten or so males, muscular and athletic, not a fair fight in any way.

Without hesitation, I condense back into my physical form, landing with force amongst the group. The surprise on her captors‘ faces is almost satisfying, but there’s no time to revel in it.

“Enough!” My voice booms over the crackle of flames. The Fire Wraiths turn towards me, their expressions a mix of shock and anger, but they don’t dare to advance just yet, maybe choosing to size me up before making a move. The beautiful priestess watches me with interest but doesn’t cry out for help, despite the determined flames flickering in her eyes.

“Blood Wraith!” One of the Fire Wraiths hisses, just as I feel Bloodbane landing beside me and solidifying into his physical form.

“Make that Two Blood Wraiths,” he hisses back, his glowing red eyes gleaming with menace. I notice in that split second that rather than his usual black travelling cloak, tunic and pants, he’s wearing his crimson armour, stronger than steel and forged from his own blood. I haven’t had time to practise forming my own blood armour, but there’s no time to waste.

Remembering my training, I summon my blood, feeling it rip through microcosmic cuts in my skin and coating my entire form from the neck down, hardening into impenetrable scarlet armour. Then I forge a weapon, choosing a straight, double–edged blade, a Longsword, for its precision and lethality. The blade forms swiftly, an extension of my will and fury, gleaming with a brilliant crimson light.

“Back away from her,” I command, my sword pointed at the nearest Fire Wraith. The heat from their bodies is intense, but my resolve is fiercer.

The battle erupts into a tempest of fire and blood. Bloodbane, with the tactical grace of a seasoned warrior, lashes out with his blood whip, its tip morphing into a sharp blade mid–air, slicing through the heated space between us and the fire wraiths. His weapon whistles through the air, disarming the scimitar–wielding wraith with a flick that sends the glowing weapon clattering across the rocky ground.

Meanwhile, I adapt my strategy, the lessons from our nightly practices flashing through my mind. As one of the fire wraiths lunges towards me with a sword that looks forged from the core of a star, I shift into my blood mist form. His weapon cuts harmlessly through the swirling red cloud, and I reappear behind him, solidifying just in time to reform my sword into a sharp, deadly dagger. In one fluid motion, I slit his throat, the sizzle of his fiery blood briefly mingling with the cool night air before he collapses.

In the heat of battle, a fire wraith with flames licking the contours of his muscular form manages to pin me down. The ground beneath us scorches my back through my blood armor, the heat threatening to consume me. I can see the malice in his golden eyes as he raises a dagger, his hand engulfed in fierce, crackling flames, poised to strike. With a desperate shove, I knock his weapon aside, sending it clattering against the rocky ground, its fiery glow dimming as it leaves his grasp

Undettered, he balls his hand into flaming list. As he aims it at my face, a blur of crimson intercedes. Bloodbane, moving with lethal precision, plunges a blade formed of his own blood straight through the fire wraith’s back. The tip of the crimson blade bursts forth from the wraith’s chest, mere inches from my face, glistening with a strange amalgamation of red and golden bloud. The golden blood of the fire wraith sprays outward, splattering across my face and arms. Each droplet burns my skin like molten lava, a searing pain that fades almost as quickly as it arrives.

Chapter 89. The Battle of Blood and Flames.

Bloodbane wrenches his blade free, and the fire wraith collapses, his body becoming eerily still as the light fades from his eyes. The smell of scorched earth and burnt blood fills the air.

The dance of combat continues, my body moving as if by instinct. I change my weapon as the battle demands; from a longsword to a spear, and back to a dagger, exploiting every opening. Bloodbane exceeds my kills, his own count doubling as he moves with lethal precision, his whip–blade a relentless force of destruction.

Yet, even though we are thinning their numbers, there are still several fire wraiths standing, plus the final two fire wraiths–the ones who had speculated on the fate of their captor–convert into blazing comets, streaking towards us with the speed and ferocity of falling stars.

“We re outnumbered,” Bloodbane yells over the roar of flame and clash of blood–forged metal, as he parties and dances around another attacker.

It’s then I hear her–the priestess. “Free me, Blood Wraith. Let me fight. I can help you.” Her voice is both a command and a plea, strong despite her

bonds.

Without hesitation, I pivot away from my adversary and dissolve into my mist form, reappearing beside her. “Hold still,” I say, as I reconfigure my blood into a thin, sharp wedge, perfectly shaped to jimmy into the lock mechanism of her shackles without harming her.

Just as the shackles click open, a golden blade descends towards my head, cutting a deadly are through the air. Time slows, my heart races, but before the blade can meet my skull, the priestess reacts with astonishing speed.

Lifting her newly freed hands, she unleashes a torrent of flaming arrows, each one a streak of radiant fire that shoots forth with deadly accuracy. The arrows pierce the bodies of our assailants, a multitude of flaming dirts embedding deep within their flesh. As they hit, each arrow morphs into a serpent of golden flame, hissing and wrapping around its host in a deadly embrace. The wraiths fall, their screams piercing the night as they are consumed by the very fire that once empowered them.

s to the gr

ground as he falls.

The wraith with the golden blade staggers hack, overwhelmed by the barrage. His weapon clatters to Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

As the flames consume the bodies of the fallen, a dying fire wraith’s accusation hangs heavy in the air, his voice raspy and filled with spite. “Curse you, traitorous bitch!” His blazing eyes fixate on the priestess, embers of hatred flickering within them as his form crumbles to ash.

The priestess stands tall amidst the chaos, her eyes calm and unyielding. She looks down at her former tormentor, her expression resolute. As the last wisps of flame fade from her wounds, she turns to face Bloodbane and I, her robes swirling around her like the undulating waves of a serene but

“Thank you for saving me,” she says, her voice clear and strong, the voice of a leader. “I am Pyra, High Priestess of Rathika the Blood Scribe, and I am in your debe

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