The Inheritor of Light

Escaping the City (Part Two)

"Give it your best shot."

"Very well," the woman began as the darkness around her began to gather at her feet.

Johnathan pulled out his cloak and tossed it around his shoulders, locking the clasp in place with his right hand. Like the woman before them, the darkness around Johnathan snaked its way over to him, coiling around his feet.

"This will be fun . . . Now! Behold the divine power of the Dark Mistress!" She flung her hand forward, and with it came a tendril of darkness.

Johnathan sheathed his dagger and held up both of his hands in front of him—gathering the darkness before him to act as a defense against the oncoming strike. The woman's tendril crashed against Johnathan's shield, each defusing the other. They were back where they had started.

"Not bad, but that is hardly all the power I can muster," the woman observed as three tendrils rose to her call. Once again, with an outstretched hand, they moved towards Johnathan with great speed.

Johnathan, however, decided instead of blocking the oncoming tentacles to try a different approach. Instead of building a wall of darkness, he pushed it forwards as a half-sphere. The tendrils deflected off it and crashed into the ground past him and Sãra.

"My, my, boy. Such tenacity. Too bad it's wasted on someone so weak!"

Johnathan believed the woman to be baiting him into a foolish attack. He had already foiled two strikes, and it seemed unlikely another one would prove more fruitful, or so he thought. The woman resumed her attack, but now with even more tendrils. However, his shield withstood the assault, that is, until one tendril slipped around the edge. He saw it from the corner of his eye a moment too late, the tendril lunged at him. Johnathan rolled out of the way, neglecting the shield he had created in order to avoid the attack; that was his mistake.

With his shield all but gone, the tendrils were quick to reach him. His arms, legs, and neck were immobilized by the binding darkness. Sãra watched in horror as Johnathan was dragged towards the horrid woman.

"Well, it seems that we know who's stronger here. Of course, it's not like there was much of a match to begin with," the woman mused as she strutted up to meet him.

She caressed Johnathan's cheek slowly. He tried not to look at her, but the tightening tendrils forced his face towards hers. At first glance, she seemed to be beautiful, alluring, but with a lingering look, one could see the many glaring imperfections she sought to conceal. What one saw on the second look was frightful, which is why Johnathan did his best not to look.

"There, there, darling," the woman whispered. "No need to struggle. I think you'll enjoy this soon enough."

She stopped the caressing and instead put her hand on the side of his face. Slowly, her grip tightened until her nails began to dig into his skin. Johnathan gritted his teeth as his skin burned. Just as he was beginning to get used to the pain, she tightened her grip as much as she could without ripping his skin off.

The pain renewed itself tenfold, but this time there was something more to it. An icy cold came along with the burning heat. Johnathan couldn't stand the pain any longer and cried out in agony. It was all he could do in response.

Sãra stood frozen as she watched the woman before her torture Johnathan. Unbeknownst to Johnathan, but seen by Sãra, something like black oil flowed up the woman's hand and into her fingers. She had tightened her grip at that point, and Johnathan began to scream.

Sãra didn't know what to do. She wasn't a warrior and had no blade to wield. All she knew is that she wanted Johnathan to be freed from his captor. Inside her, the feeling began to burn like a fire. It burned brighter, moving up her chest and into her throat until she couldn't keep it in anymore.