From a distance, the dark sky seemed to have two moons tonight. One that dimly lit the sky, unmoving at all times. And the second, flashing at intervals, moving across the land like a ball that never stopped bouncing.
The Triform watched on, knowing that the moving light would decide their fate. Their faces were mixed with fear, longing, hope and anger. They had lost a lot, and they could lose even more.
The demons cheered on, not fully understanding the gravity of what was going on. They had lost their generals and all that stood against their defeat was the demon king.
For a moment, the second moon vanished.
Darren stood firm, a large gap between him and the demon king. The earth was littered with blade marks, large craters and numerous signs of magic. His golden armour had cracked in a hundred places, his cape ripped as it hung loosely. Along his chest was a wide gash that still bled, defying his healing power.
The demon king wasn't better off.
Of his four horns, only one stood firm. His secondary heart lay bleeding on the floor and a large hole remained in his stomach. His left hand had lost three fingers, making his grip weaken.
They faced each other, anger burning within as it fuelled them with power. As Darren prepared to charge at him again, a shocking thing happened.
The demon king roared as he faced the sky, beating his chest with the spiked hammer of his poleaxe. With wonder still in Darren's eyes, black wisps, brightened by the moon, floated across the sky. With each wisp, a demon fell to the ground, withering in seconds.
The demons seemed to be in a trance and no matter how much they desired to run away, they couldn't move.
The wisps floated over to the hill and Darren knew what was coming.
Dratos had sacrificed the demons to replenish his strength and heal his body. Darren couldn't allow it. Unfortunately, it was too late.
A barrier had formed around Dratos and no matter how much he slashed at it, it wouldn't crack. He cast spells but nothing worked. He watched on, lost and bewildered as his hope was slowly fleeting. The demons on the field seemed endless and with their portal still open, Dratos could replenish his strength endlessly.
He was running out of options until he heard Siestri's voice in his head.
"Poison the souls and you would poison his strength. A forbidden spell but it is our only option."
Darren never really cared about forbidden spells. He was the embodiment of all things forbidden: a vampire father, a witch mother who was turned into a werewolf during her pregnancy, and an angel heart. He was the first and last of his kind. A forbidden saviour, if he so desired, a weapon of destruction.
Nothing that would help him could be termed forbidden in his eyes.
In his mind, he went over the spell, remembering every chant and every rune. With the blood from his chest, he drew the runes in the sky, his finger moving with accuracy and increased speed. His lips quivered by the second, chanting the words that only he could hear.
In the distance, his eyes locked on a red wisp. With the last rune written and the chant over, the blood pulsed with a golden light. It gathered together, turning into a bright gold colour as it flew off. Meeting the red wisp, they merged with no obvious difference.
Darren sank to his knees, catching his breath. Losing a drop of his essence drained him and it would take years to recover that single drop.
In silence, he watched as the wisp floated into Dratos' mouth. Dratos had already healed his wounds and his body even seemed brighter than before. But in the next moment, he coughed up blood.
His veins pulsed with a golden hue that travelled across his body. He dropped to his knees, clutching his throat as he coughed up more blood.
"You! Earth King, what have you done?!"
Darren gave him no answer, watching as his body shrivelled. He pulled himself up, walking towards Dratos with heavy steps. Dratos, knowing that he would die if this continued, ripped his chest open.
Not hesitating, he squeezed his heart and forced the golden blood out. Desperation filled his face as he feared for his fate.
Darren steadied himself, sword in front as he prepared for the end of the battle. He watched as Dratos picked up his pollaxes, charging forward with rage.
"You fiend! You have desecrated the glorious sacrifices of the demons. You have tainted their souls and destroyed the bridge to their rebirth. Your folly shall not be forgiven!"
"You should have prepared for the worst the moment you stepped your feet on this plane. This land isn't yours to rule, neither is it mine."
"I will rip you to shreds, tear your family apart, slaughter your men, devour the bodies of your women, and drink the blood of your children. You will watch in pain and agony, atop a steel pike as I plunder this plane to my satisfaction."
The demon king had turned into a feral beast. His blood boiled within him, his teeth grinded against each other and his muscles bulged with each swing of his weapon. He was determined to bring Darren to his knees; to make him suffer for eternity for what he had done.
Darren fought back, steel clashing against steel as he bore the weight of Dratos' blows. His skill was put to the test, blocking both weapons as he looked for openings to strike.
Using his armour, he would block a bladed swing from Dratos by angling his body enough for the poleaxe to glide past. With his sword, he parried the hammer blows and sometimes, he took a full blow to his shoulder or arm.
He was beaten down, losing momentum as the seconds passed. If all remained the same, he would end up on a pike as the demon king laughed. He wouldn't let that happen.
Blood dripped through his armour, his breath rasped and his feet unsteady, his heart burned fiercely.