Shades of Grey

CHATEAU DE MAUVAIS— APRIL 1844

When I next opened my eyes, I sat in the exact place that I had left a month ago, still clad in the Asylum uniform. Verrilius stood before me, eyes wide with spellbound frustration.

“You were successful,” he said with a slight air of discontent.

“Where is she?” I asked with a dark fortitude, the look on Isabella’s face as her own flames consumed her still haunting me.

Verrilius tapped his staff three times, keeping his eyes fixed on me. A circle of purple flames ignited on the floor in front of me, lasting for barely a second as they belched loudly and instantly faded. In their place on the floor was a drastically malnourished and grossly ill Forma. She turned over slowly and looked up at me, smiling. My heart clenched as I saw how difficult it was for her to do so.

“You came…” she barely managed to whisper. “I knew you’d…beat him…”

I fell to my knees and wrapped my arms tightly around her, verifying to my weary mind that this was real and not just another nightmare.

“I’ve fought worse,” I replied, crying into her bony shoulder.

Forma gave a curt laugh, followed by a long, slow fight for breath. My tears of relief turned sour with guilt.

“How touching,” interrupted the cynical voice of Verrilius. “But aren’t you forgetting someone?”

I looked up at him over Forma’s shoulder just in time to see a second ring of fire appear, bringing a motionless Ryder with it. As the flames died, he looked up at us and his bloodshot eyes fell immediately to Forma. His jaundiced face twisted into a nearly unbearable expression of sadness as he beheld her beaten form.

Forma tensed in my arms and turned around to face him, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Ryder,” she exhaled in a voice I could barely hear when she saw him.

Ryder smiled as he saw her articulate his name. The amourous exchange was so potently thick it was almost tangible, until Verrilius interrupted again.

“Yes, this is all so sickeningly sweet, but you’ve forgotten something else.”

“What?” I questioned hotly. How dare he disrupt their moment…

“You bargained for the freedom of your Fairy. The male belongs to me still.”

“No!” I heard Forma croak, struggling to scream at him. “Please!”

Verrilius laughed at her feeble protest and turned to Ryder.

“What have you to say?” he asked him.

Ryder stood and looked at Forma and me. I could see his plan in his eyes.

“Ryder, don’t!” I countered, preparing to lay Forma down and join him in the fight. He shook his head at me and turned solidly to Verrilius.

“I will act accordingly,” he said strongly.

“I thought as much,” agreed Verrilius civilly. “Alone?”

Ryder cast one look at me and nodded to Verrilius. I shook my head, placing Forma against a support column.

“Don’t!” I protested.

A dome made of clear blue flame suddenly enveloped me and Forma, shielding us from the eminent battle about to take place.

“If I win, we all go free,” bargained Ryder diplomatically.

“If you lose, you all remain here.”

Ryder shook his head.

“No. If I lose, I will stay. You must allow Grey and Forma to leave.”

“NO!” Forma screamed, pounding feebly on the side of the dome. “He can’t!”

Verrilius laughed to himself. He clearly was not planning on upholding the deal.

“Very well,” he lied smoothly.

A beat of silence passed before Ryder acted, transforming easily into a large Blacklight Dragon. Verrilius brought his staff down once upon the ground and sent a shockwave of energy through the room, the force of which propelled Ryder across the room and into the marble wall, smashing it on contact.

“I admire your courage,” he said as Ryder pulled himself back into the foyer. “Attacking anyone of the magical creed is quite a brave impulse. Expecting to be triumphant, however, is something of a foolish notion.”

Ryder spoke through a low growl.

“Foolish notions are sometimes derivative of victory!”

Forma gave a slightly surprised gasp at this previously unheard of skill.

“How did he learn to do that?! I can’t speak when I’m in animal form!”

I laughed briefly at her just as I saw Ryder transform into Navix Hammersmith. I cocked a small smile: defeating Verrilius in the form of his most loyal soldier. It was a nicely ironic touch.

Ryder reached over to a nearby statue of a knight and withdrew the sword. He brought it down toward Verrilius, who easily blocked the blow with his staff.

“You are treading in dangerous waters, foolish Maisling,” he taunted, pushing his luminous staff towards Ryder.

“I’m a damn good swimmer,” he retorted acerbically. Forma gave a chortle of acquiescent amusement.

He brought the sword back around and lunged towards Verrilius, who blocked every one of Ryder’s shots until he managed to knock the sword out of Ryder’s hand and back him into the corner.

“You’ve got nowhere to run,” Verrilius taunted. I gulped as I saw the tip of his staff begin to grow red. Ryder did not show any fear, however. “It would be prudent of you to surrender now.”

“Yes,” Ryder agreed in a strong voice. “It would be prudent.”

He was about to lunge for another attack, when I saw a soft hand gently grip his wrist and the hilt of an unfamiliar sword slide into his fingers. I tried to make out the figure in the darkness, but I saw nothing. Ryder then cocked his head to the right, as if he were listening to some quietly mentioned instructions, all of which were uttered within miliseconds.

Not taking a moment to second-guess the intentions of the voice’s owner, Ryder drove the sword straight through Verrilius’s heart. I covered my eyes as a blinding white light encircled the entrance wound and shone brightly through the entire foyer.

“What’s happening?!” cried a shocked Verrilius in agony. He hadn’t expected this particular weapon.

“Your time has come, Verrilius,” responded a strange female voice that seemed to echo off the smooth walls with power and authority. “Your reign is over.”

I watched with a feeling of justice as a cloud of black and gold smoke floated from Verrilius’ frail body. He gave a last hideous, pained scream and we all watched in silence as he breathed his last.

The flaming cage faded instantly and I immediately raced over to Ryder as he shifted back into himself, catching him just as his knees buckled in exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Who gave you the sword?”

He shrugged.

“I did,” replied the voice.

We both turned around, stopping in shock when we saw her full form. She was a tall Maisling with long black hair and two large black wings stretched far behind her. Her dark brown eyes appeared even darker against the robes she wore, similarly thin and just as lavender as mine had been.

“Who are you?” Ryder asked.

“My name is Dara,” she said with a troubled haze over her eyes and a weakened hand over her heart “and I think I have just lost my Hunter.”

I recognised the same enervated stagger Scepta had given when Loria died. I leapt forward and caught her just before she fell over Verrilius’s bleeding corpse.

“Bring her over here,” Ryder said, pointing to a clean spot of floor near Forma, who was making only minimal movements.

“Isabella…where is she?” Dara asked after I had set her down. Her face went very white and she began to stiffen.

Before I could give an answer, Dara gave a cry of discomfort and I saw fur beginning to sprout from her legs, slowly spreading up her calves and making its way around her body.

“Tell me she died nobly, fighting for a just cause!” Dara’s voice ended in a gasp of pain as her vocal cords began to shift.

“Absolutely,” I said with affirmative confidence. “She died fighting for you.”

Dara’s mouth curled into the slightest hint of a smile, just before she went into a particularly violent fit and I was knocked twenty feet backwards with a vicious smack of her right hand to my stomach. Ryder caught me before I flew too far away and we both watched in horror as the same transformation that drove Scepta to suicide began to encompass Dara. Soon, I was no longer staring at the Maisling who had saved our lives: I was staring at a great black bear as it struggled to pull itself off of the marble steps and onto its feet. The bear gave a great roar of despair and began to walk towards the back of the castle into the black woods encircling Tournesol.

“Go in peace, Dara,” Ryder blessed under his breath.

I watched her go in stunned silence, my sympathetic shock leading to embarrassingly clear tears forming in my eyes.

“Grey!”

We both turned immediately at Forma’s strained voice just as she began to cough, convulsing violently each time as she sputtered up thin black dust. Ryder and I each raced to her side.

“Come on, Forma, get it out!” I encouraged, stroking her damp hairline.

She then gave a particularly large cough and I saw an unnerving amount of blood pour out the side of her mouth. She gave several more gasping inhales until the blood flow ceased and she lay perfectly still. Ryder and I shared a worried look.

“Grey…”

Forma slowly began to breathe normally and reacquire a regular pulse. I gripped her hand strongly.

“I’m here,” I assured her.

“I’ve never felt so sick in my life…” she said with fragile eyes. It was then that I took note of the deathly pale shade of her skin. This was much worse than last time.

“It’s alright, Forma,” I urged gently. “You’ll be alright now.”