Jäwell didn't listen, his ego was hurt, he was the kind of soldier ready to die in a battle, the kind that doesn't stand the humiliation of running away. Miroïr yelled directly in his mind.
"I can paralyze him for a while! Run!"
Jäwell laughed like a madman, he was already heavily wounded. His hair was falling on his bloody face and his eyes were the ones of a berserk. He didn't feel any pain anymore, he was submerged by the need to kill. Miroïr paralyzed the golden soldier but Jäwell didn't retreat.
Not at all.
As expected and feared by Miroïr, he ran to be close enough to the golden creature to slice his throat. Miroïr couldn't believe his eyes, he was furious.
"Retreat Jäwell! Don't do that!"
Jäwell ignored him, he was determined to stop this thing. Miroïr did his best to paralyze the golden soldier as much as he could but he was simply too strong for them. The mage could only maintain the golden soldier for a few seconds and that was not enough. Jäwell didn't have the time to get close enough to strike him when something hot penetrated his body. The moment following, he was unable to feel the floor under his feet. He was elevated in the air in front of the soldier and finally saw his enemy's wings, but it was already too late. Miroïr screamed with rage and pain, he was feeling like losing his mind.
Zarkhaïm turned to him, in the battle he didn't see what happened before but he rapidly understood it was about Jäwell after hearing Miroïr. He started to run, searching for Jäwell in the crowd, before seeing him in the air.
His body has been ejected a hundred meters away like a vulgar fabric doll. Miroïr saw Zarkhaïm running to the golden soldier with a rage he had never seen before.
Zarkhaïm, who was usually afraid to show his nature, didn't hesitate a second. He jumped at the golden soldier with claws and fangs out and ravaged his armor in fury. The man defended himself with his wings, Zarkhaïm was biting and ripping out all parts he could reach. He was closer to an animal than anything else.
Miroïr watched the scene from the back lines, he was frozen. His brother has been defeated and Zarkhaïm was fighting this golden creature with all his strength. Zarkhaïm engaged himself in the battle seriously, and Miroïr saw with horror that he was not winning. Miroïr couldn't move or think clearly anymore, he was paralyzed in shock. Zarkhaïm was the most powerful being in the world, what was unfolding in front of his eyes was not supposed to be possible.
His lips let escape a murmur, "how could it turn so wrong? What happened?"
The impacts between Zarkhaïm and the golden creature were making the earth tremble. They were gods among men. The aura around the golden soldier blinded everyone, Zarkhaïm, on the other hand, was surrounded by shadows, it was a fight between light and darkness. It has nothing to do anymore with the original border conflicts.
Zarkhaïm eventually impaled the creature with his arm and this one simply disappeared in a sunray.
The enemy troops retreated, they didn't want to continue the fight without the golden creature but that was not a victory at all. Miroïr jumped onto the battlefield, he was hurt and ran limping as fast as he could. He searched for Jäwell's body.
His broken voice was drowned in tears, calling desperately, "Jäwell! Brother!"
When he found him, the mage was horrified by the condition of the body. Jäwell was pierced by many holes, some parts of his members were missing and the remaining were broken. Miroïr's eyes were frightened and his breath was short, he placed a hand on the arm of his brother, and a cold chill ran down his spine.
Jäwell was dead.
Zarkhaïm joined them and gave his blood to Jäwell without thinking twice. Miroïr was relieved for a second, at this moment he thought Zarkhaïm could still save his brother.
Jäwell opened his eyes and screamed in pain. Miroïr had never heard such a heartbreaking scream before. The night suddenly fell on the battlefield in the middle of the day as an answer to this terrible call. The men wanted to retreat but the shadows were too intense, like snakes capturing their prey. Only a few soldiers could escape thanks to the help of the mages.
The battlefield turned into a nightmare.
A cloud of black smoke appeared from nowhere and covered everything, quickly, it was almost impossible to find a way out. Miroïr watched around him what was happening, they had lost control of the situation a long time ago already and things had gone too far. Miroïr only felt desperation, he tried to shake his brother to make him stop as he thought he was responsible for this massacre, but when he raised his head to see Zarkhaïm and seek his help his heart stopped.
Zarkhaïm had a low face, he was defeated. The king didn't just heal Jäwell as he could have done so many times before, he had transformed him into an eternal companion.
Jäwell didn't stop screaming in agony, it was an incredible pain mixed with a rage Miroïr would never have imagined in his most terrible nightmares. The shadows were answering to this fury more and more violently, killing everything and everyone around without distinction.
Zarkhaïm lifted his head to Miroïr and his lips formed the word, "Run."
Miroïr wanted to object but the time froze around him. Jäwell's howling was endless. The mage felt dizzy due to what just happened, then, he saw a tear rolling down Zarkhaïm's despaired face.
"Please, run," Zarkhaïm repeated, almost begging.
Jäwell's fingers became silver claws, his eyes changed color to take a crimson deep shade, and two fangs appeared in his mouth replacing his canines.
Miroïr's heart broke. By transforming Jäwell, all the plans Miroïr had with Zarkhaïm died with him. Miroïr was furious with his brother.
"Why couldn't you retreat like a normal person, you moron!" He said while pushing him nervously before standing up.
He was hurt, lost, and the pain was unbearable. He ran away as Zarkhaïm ordered but when he saw the platform, his eyes crossed Leïlana's and he changed his mind. He simply couldn't join her. Instead, he cast a spell and disappeared from the battlefield.
Miroïr left without a word.
The soldiers who had no time to run were trapped in the shadows and were dried from all life. The survivors went back to the castle to spread the news of their victory but, this time, nobody celebrated. The kingdom was mourning.
During what felt like an eternity, the citizens of the whole country could hear screams from the black smoke on the battlefield. Jäwell was yelling with pain and rage night and day for weeks, his cries carried by the wind like a curse on the land. Until one day, the screams stopped and the smoke disappeared.
Jäwell and Zarkhaïm went out of the battlefield walking next to each other. Jäwell didn't change much physically, only his skin was a bit paler, but he was no longer the same. All his passion was gone.
They took their horses and came back to the city in silence. As they were coming back to the castle, whispers could be heard about the prince. Shadows were following him and it felt like the air was freezing around him. The common folks renamed him the Shadows Master. Nobody knew what happened to their beloved prince but this demon was not him.
Zarkhaïm and Jäwell pushed open the castle's door and made their way to the throne room. Only the sound of their footsteps could be heard, all around them was only a deathly silence. The king and the prince were no longer breathing. They didn't need it anymore.
Jäwell sat silently on his throne, Zarkhaïm in the middle, and they gazed at Miroïr's empty seat.
Zarkhaïm said in a trembling voice, clenching his fist on the armrest.
"I've lost him."
Jäwell sighed and said in a deep, husky tone.
"We both lost him."