My heart roars within me, a thunderous cadence that echoes louder than any sound I've ever heard, fueled by the union of Blodwyn and I. Breaking free of the watery and bloody bonds that endeavor to ensnare me with a single movement, I surge forward with an explosive burst of raw strength. The sensation of my flesh tearing and bones breaking under the strain is a dull backdrop to the moment's urgency. Amongst it all, however, the spike of pain in my chest is paramount.
Ryder's eyes widen as time feels to stall, my heartbeat still blasting away at an audible rate despite my heightened senses. My boots sink into the wood below, my hand reaches outward, and my Ether blossoms at the end of my regenerating, fibrous fingers for Leash. He's close enough for me to catch this time.
Finally.
Instantly, I propel myself forward with a speed that creates a shockwave in my wake. The air seems to buckle beneath my movement, and I can see it crackling under my grasp. My hand reaches out, fingers aiming for the barrel of the gun that threatens to sever my head from my shoulders. Simultaneously, my heart pulses with warning, a visceral scream in my mind cautioning me against the strain I'm putting on my body. Yet, heedless of the impending danger, I press on.
The pain only manages to fuel it further, bringing Painsforge to another level as the organ destroys itself for power.
My hand intercepts the gun aimed at me, a swift motion that smacks the weapon aside just in time. The cannon-like barrage intended for me crashes into the ship's deck. A slashing whip of air cuts open the flesh on my shoulders simply from the passing by of the lead, causing an eventual violent impact that sends shockwaves through the wooden planks. The force of the gun's discharge, however, comes at a cost—the ship's floor gives way beneath me.
But before gravity manages to take over, I extend my hand, wrapping the Leash around Ryder. His right arm resists my movement, but I've never felt stronger in all my life. He follows me without an effect on my fall.
As the darkness of the ship swallows us whole, Ryder and I plummet into the unknown abyss below. The fall into the dark storage room is a chaotic blur as I strike out at him, uncaring of gravity. I can't quite reach, but between Blodwyn extending my flesh and Reach doing the same, I land a fist against his side. The man gasps aloud, even after his water dulls the blow to only break the immediate bones. I can see the pain on his face, but there is no defeat.
Yet, the impact sends him further from me, the air whipping around me as I descend into the unknown. The oppressive atmosphere of the chamber becomes palpable as I crash into its shadowed depths. My eyes scan the surroundings, finding hundreds of crates and more sinister things. Bloody wires run from length to length of the room all over, proof of Ryder's preparation.
Not only did they choose the time and place of the battle, but the father and son went as far as to place traps throughout the whole battlefield. Sounds about like Maddox's reputation. I only find the edge of the room dozens of feet in every direction, including the height.
The razor wires made of blood dangle menacingly from the walls, waiting precisely for me. Even worse, they seem to not care for the other man. The sharp, stringy crimson, manipulated by Ryder, moves harmlessly past him while zeroing in on my flesh.
Lacerations open all over me, even more so. Bouts of agony flash in tremendous amounts as weakness and strength suffuse me. Painsforge is beating with all it can.
The moment of impact arrives, and I land on the cold, splintery floor on my stomach, grunting with the effort. The Strugglers Gasp finally leaves my lungs, not of my own accord due to the fall. Instinctively, I grasp for a moment of reprieve, but I quickly learn that it is not a luxury I can afford.
A cacophony of alarms blares in my mind, both inner and outer warnings clamoring for my attention. My heart seizes for a brief, crippling moment. But a cold feeling of danger moves me against that agony, Shiver. Thanks to the skill, I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding a deadly scythe aimed at my spine as an Arbalest from my leg does the job.
I crash into a nearby crate, the collision jarring my senses with wood all over. As I struggle to regain my footing with the hanging blood wires poised like lethal serpents only feet above my head, ready to strike.
Ryder is already back on his feet with his broken arms manipulating the blood and seawater, but his Colt is nowhere to be seen. I step forward, raising Lily up to shoot him. I can see the fear in his eyes, the apprehension and the regret. The father of the man against me stands in the hole from where we fell, shouting below.
"Quite the predicament for you two!"
Yet before I pull the trigger, defiance reignites, uncaused by his father, and he dashes to the side. The strings from above sink down toward me as I follow him with Lily, going to finish him off.
And I do so. I clench my index around the trigger, endeavoring to close the gap so that the gun will fire. But that fervor explodes within my heart, and I lose all feeling in my hands. Without even knowing what I'm doing, I drop Lily and fall to my knees.
My hand grasps at my heart, the organ not even there. What? What is happening!?
The blood in my body pauses as I feel a shortness of breath. My Ether won't respond to me. I can't move. I fall further, landing on my elbows as laughter comes from above.
"Well... it seems I saw wrong. Finish the kid, Ryder. He gave himself a heart attack from the looks of it. Quite impressive, though. His father would be proud if he could ever come back here."
I don't have time to consider his words as Blodwyn groans alongside me, his words letting me know what has indeed happened.
"Heart... explode. Cannot fix. Inside lantern."
Another cough exits my throat as I fall further, landing on my chest against the wood. Realization hits me. We pushed Pautuhm too far without preparation.
It's one thing to detonate an arm or leg with Explosion. That wouldn't kill me, even if I didn't have Blodwyn. But... to lose a heart... my heart...
I am dying.
Death's Lantern.
It's at my hip.
I never thought I'd be the one to stop my own heart.
My fingers move slowly toward the Heirloom left behind by Hura after he was slain by Alexos. But a pair of footsteps threatens to end me before I can touch the lantern's pale blue light. I peer upward to find Ryder staring down at me.
Still, he doesn't utter any words. The overconfidence and arrogance I've heard of from him is gone. He hasn't even shown it throughout this whole fight. For him, it's been nothing but brutal severeness, as if this was his only possible chance at a future. He could have declined the duel, so it definitely wasn't, though.
Ryder leans down for Lily before finishing me off, an availing sigh at the tip of his breath as he holds the Colt. I grit my teeth, reaching further for the lantern, stretching my fingers as my vision rapidly darkens. Blodwyn is so focused on keeping me alive that he can't do anything to help Lily, even as he fails to do his one directive. Not that I blame him. How do you keep something alive after its heart is gone?
The pinpoints return while Lily uses Rosethorn, stabbing into Ryder's hands. He curses and almost drops the weapon before placing it into his holster. I can feel Lily's rage from here. She hates when others touch her that aren't me or Killian. Her screams give me strength.
I've never heard her in such... pain. Such agony. I hate it. I hate it so much. Lily is more than a Colt. She's more than just a weapon or even a person.
She's the only other child of Killian Graves, making her... my sister in a way.
As I finish the thought, my fingers tap the edge of the lantern, and I dive into it, forcing my heart out of it. An otherworldly pain resounds as I regain my fleshy organ.
I sense the once tightly corded muscle, only to find it utterly exploded. There is almost nothing left of the core of my body. It's not even connected to an artery or vein anymore, deflated and shrunken.
The sight fills me with defeat and depression as a chamber falls closed once more. Ryder has retrieved the Falling Rain. His Lumen levels against me as the man throws me onto my back. His ocean-blue eyes stare into mine as he speaks a few words.
"I do not hate you, Graves. It is your life or mine. And I need the Blooming Spider Lily to heal me. And so, I will give you the courtesy of a quick death by ending your suffering."
The man's gaze holds not a hint of remorse or regret, but I do sense compassion. It's the most I'll get, I suppose, as he leans down and presses the Falling Rain against my chest, the barrel pointed at my feeble heart.
And then...
He pulls the trigger.
Blodwyn howls into my mind of pain, but he quickly falls silent. So does the rest of everything. It all quickly turns black as a pair of feet crash beside me, a grating voice with them.
"An impressive job, Ryder. Not the first to slay a Graves, but one of the few. I'm sure they'll pop up someone else another time. They always do."
My muscles won't move, and my Ether won't respond to me. Painsforge is gone without a heart, and Burdenless is useless if I can grasp for Ether anyway.
All I can do is let the darkness take over.
The transition from life to death is swift, my senses fading into the encompassing dusk beyond. The throb of my heart, long stilled by the cruel hand of mortality, had persisted only phantomly through sheer determination. But now, even that tenuous hold on existence has slipped away, and I surrender to the inevitable descent.
My consciousness lingers in my own body, untethered from the confines of the physical. A profound understanding of my own soul washes over me as I feel it. I am a formless body, possessing only a left arm. The right has long been lost, even to my soul. Questions flicker in this expanse, brief as fading embers.
Why do I not leave my body as all others do when the Pale Lady touches them? This isn't the first time it's happened, either. Something is... different about when my heart stops. There is no pull.
Silas mentioned a pull when he died. The one that brought him to the Underworld. He sensed a hand ripping him down below. But I feel nothing. I only feel the darkness.
As I ponder this enigma, a peculiar sensation courses through the remnants of my being. A presence, almost parasitic in nature, weaves through the intricate network of my veins. It charts a path toward the core of my form, navigating the pathways of my innards with purpose. Dark, amorphous masses of bloody flesh trail behind it, like ominous tendrils seeking connection.
Blodwyn. He's still trying to save me. Poor thing. He should escape and find Virgil. I'm already dead.
Within the confines of my chest, however, a perplexing hand takes shape, materializing at the very epicenter where my heart once resided. It is pale, the same pasty color as Blodwyn was before we grew close. Back when he was still the Bloody Palm. Back when he and I were fighting for dominion over this form. Back when my left arm was nothing but a nuisance.
This abnormal appendage undergoes a metamorphosis as he clenches the fist. Flesh and bone cracks and twists as Blodwyn digs deeply into his Ether, ripping out all he can while a white mist flows from the gaping hole in my chest.
Burdenless. In seconds, I will be nothing but a true Wendigo—my mind dead, yet my body puppetted by him. Though... I think I'd prefer that now.
There once was a time when that was the worst possible end a human could have. I no longer believe that. Blodwyn and I haven't had all that much time together where he's been sentient, but it's been enough. He's rash, brutal, and animalistic, but he acts like a child. He hardly knows how to speak, yet always wants more food. He has so many flaws... but there is so much potential for him.
I'd rather he live as me than die.
A word, one managing to reach me beyond the confines of death, says otherwise. It is short and succinct yet encapsulates everything about the Bloody Palm in one word.
"No."
Right. Even the man before Blodwyn hated the reality forced upon him. He raged against the misfortune he had been dealt, saying no to the world itself. I can see the similarity between Cassidy and Blodwyn.
They are just so deep that the childish nature of Blodwyn hides much of them. That innate, deep desire for life, passion, and freedom burns as radiantly as Bonfire's flames.
The Bloody Palm rapidly changes from its very namesake. In but a moment, it transforms into a heart as dark as charcoal. Then, he begins to reconstruct the intricate web of veins and arteries, meticulously recreating the lifeblood conduits that had been obliterated by the Falling Rain.
It is as if Blodwyn knows every single aspect of my heart and my arteries. I suppose he would, wouldn't he? He's given me more blood and life than I think I've ever had, even over an entire lifetime.
In a moment of awe and disbelief, the reconstructed heart pulsates once more. The beat is singular, but the instant it comes, I feel again.
I think I might know what my Tomb is—why my father had so much hope in me. Why he threw so much at me, assuming I'd make it out alive.
I don't think I have an afterlife of any kind. Though, I'm not sure what part of myself I have to be missing for that to happen. Nothing wants to pull me from my corpse, not even the God of Death. Only Lily ever could touch my soul back then, but... she was unsure. She wasn't sure what would happen if she didn't, only that she didn't want to risk it. Without my soul leaving my body or my body being utterly anihilated, I don't know if I can die.
This is all only speculation, but as my eyes open once more and my heartbeat beats to the stale air, I hear the crunch of a twisting boot. I smile lightly as I lean forward, gradually returning to my feet. My movements are shaky as my Ether is approaching my limit, but the awe hidden in Ryder's face is enough to give me the edge to do so.
Even Maddox, a Virtue in his own right, blinks twice at my moving. I can't help but mock them as the older one has to me.
"You've never fought a Wendigo, have you? We aren't so easy to kill."