The light from the seraph’s witchlight faded slowly behind him as Raziel ran into the shadowy corridor. Dimly, he could see flickers of light in the passage ahead, perhaps cast from a brazier or a torch. The path twisted right and up, leading on into the depths of the ancient volcano.
The grade of the passage grew steeper, and his footsteps slowed accordingly. The barely-seen brazier was in full sight now, shedding light down a steep rock face. Tumbled stone and jutting ledges described a path to the top, but the sheer height of the passage forcibly reminded Raziel that for the time being, he was at a markéd disadvantage – the seraph could easily have flown to the top of the wall, but he would be forced to find another way to scale a wall which was not so convenient.
Nowhere to go but up. The first ledge was well within reach, and the second was only slightly higher. From his new perch, Raziel peered up into the shadows to gauge his next jump. The next, most obvious leap looked quite precarious – several boulders were tumbled haphazardly on top of one another, and it looked like one wrongly placed step might send them all down. The top of the stack looked to be a high jump away from the next ledge, so perhaps a shift to the spectral plane was in order.
His material body fell away into dust as Raziel warped space, and the muted blues and greens of the spectral realm surrounded him. In the distance, he could hear sluagh skulking about, but the repulsive creatures were too far away to notice him. He jumped to the closest ledge, then to the second. Another short leap put him on top of the boulders, and Raziel gathered himself for the next plateau. He sprang, talons grasping for the next shelf –
And fell short by a paltry few inches. He tried again, and the edge remained tantalizingly out of reach. Frustrated, Raziel jumped back down to the cave floor, and started looking for a shift gate. Perhaps in the physical realm, the rock protrusion was close enough to allow him to grasp it. He would have to be quick, as the boulders did not look like they would hold his weight for long.
The ethereal blue flame of a gate burned a few hundred yards back the way he had come. Raziel sent a few energy-bolts hurtling down the tunnel to put the pesky sluagh to flight; the creatures were more trouble than they were worth to fight. He heard them scuttle off away from him, then he ran back to the gate. Summoning matter from the very bones of Nosgoth, Raziel willed himself to manifest.
Time to try again. The first two jumps were repeated, and Raziel now stood perched on the second ledge again. Pebbles rattled down to the ground as he edged closer to the stack. Raziel crouched down, then sprang. Midair, he extended his ruined wings, hoping to soften his landing enough so as not to disturb the rocks’ precarious balance.
As soon as his clawed feet touched the top of the rock, the stone began to groan and rumble ominously. The vampire quickly glanced upward – where to go? An ominous crack from beneath him caused Raziel to look down, only to see the rock beneath his feet begin to slide.
Damn! Without thinking, he jumped upwards, blindly hoping to catch the next ledge. Yahriel’s spear dropped from his grip as he reached out for something, anything. Just as he became certain that he was going to fall back to the cave floor, Raziel felt his claw-tips scrape against stone. He grabbed desperately for the unseen shelf, and his talons punched into the basalt hard enough to send chips of rock flying. For one uncertain moment, he was certain he would lose his grip, but he bore down harder and grabbed on with his other hand. His feet scraped at the shelf as he pulled his way to safety.
With relief, Raziel looked up again to see the brazier not ten feet up from where he stood. Time to test the crystal spear for himself, now. He reached out a claw, and the spear rocketed up from the cavern floor to find him. Inwardly, Raziel smiled – how many times would this have been infernally convenient in his travels through Nosgoth? He leaped easily to the top of the rock wall, weapon in hand.
Fortunate thing too, because in his haste to escape his fall, the vampire had not seen the enormous Turelim guarding the passage deeper into the mountain. It roared in surprise, then extended its claws and lunged towards him. Caught unawares, Raziel dodged backwards, nearly losing his footing on the edge of the cliff. He ducked away from the Turelim and the edge of the wall. Red eyes ablaze, the horned vampire slashed again, its claws raking Raziel’s chest.
Raziel snarled furiously and brought the blade of the spear up into the vampire’s face. It staggered back with the force of the blow. Raziel gave the Turelim no time to recover and struck again quickly, first slamming the butt-end of the spear into its abdomen, then swinging the head around for another blow to its head. Dazed, the bloodied vampire swayed back and forth, and Raziel finished his adversary with a quick thrust through its heart. He drank the soul in, then picked up the spear.
The fitful light from the brazier revealed irregular dark red splotches on the rock. Yahriel’s blood, thought Raziel, as he carefully began to follow the trail. It led on into a passageway to the left. He ran on, noticing that torches in wall sconces set at intervals along the wall had begun to light the way. Raziel slowed, cautious. Though vampires’ vision was excellently adapted for night sight, they still could not see in total darkness, and it was a safe assumption that the additional light would soon mean additional enemies.
The passage bent sharply to the right, and Raziel peered around the corner before making a move. Good thing, too, for two massive Turelim were guarding the corridor. His last adversary had provided enough energy to bring him back to full strength, so the pair of vampires was not quite as much trouble as it would have been otherwise. Raziel lifted the crystal spear to his shoulder and aimed at one of the unsuspecting Turelim.
The spear blazed through the air to find its mark, spitting the unfortunate vampire. The Turelim roared in mortal agony, clutching the haft of the spear as it collapsed heavily onto the stone floor. Its companion, alarmed, charged towards Raziel, but the undead vampire had ducked into the shadows, waiting for the right moment. The Turelim walked down the passage, warily watching for the unseen attacker, but Raziel bided his time until the minotaur had passed him.
Once the creature’s back was to him, Raziel sprang from the shadows and brought his sword down in a sweeping arc from the Turelim’s shoulder to its hip. Stunned immediately, it was easy prey for the final coup de grâce. The Soul Reaver’s energy cracked, and the Turelim’s body blew apart, leaving only the soul. Before the two liberated souls could vanish into the spectral realm, Raziel pulled his clan-drape from his face and drew both orbs of green light into himself.
Upon further exploration, the tunnel the two vampires had been guarding seemed to be a dead end. There was no visible door or gap in the stone, yet it was clear that Yahriel had gotten through somehow – there was blood drying slowly on the floor very close to one rock face. Dropping to his knees, Raziel closely examined the patch of red. Closer inspection revealed that it actually extended under one edge of the wall. This section of the rock must actually swing out somehow, mused Raziel, and as he ran the tips of his claws over the stone, he felt them catch on a nearly-invisible seam. As he traced the seam upwards, his claw-tips dipped into a cleverly hidden depression in the stone. A latch clicked, and the stone swung open.
Spear at the ready, Raziel walked into the next corridor. Very faintly, the sound of rushing water echoed in the tunnel. Yahriel had spoken of an underground river, so perhaps it was not that far off. The ceiling began to lift higher as he proceeded, and eventually the passage widened into a cavern. The sound of water was a little stronger, but mixed in was a sound Raziel now recognized – the sweep of wings.
Flattening himself against the wall, Raziel quickly scanned the area for the flyer. If the nephil saw him first, the fight would go all the harder. Wings threw shadows from a stray beam of light, and Raziel quickly turned towards the movement. The wingbeats grew fainter, then began to approach again. Some kind of a patrol, perhaps? A torch high on the wall cast a faint illumination into the gloom, and this time Raziel caught sight of the nephil as it winged onward. All he had to do was wait for another pass…
The nephil swung back around, flying again towards Raziel’s position. Raziel gripped the haft of the spear tightly, and hoped that the spear would work as well for him as it had for Yahriel. He pointed the crystalline head at the amorphous lump of shadow that was the nephil, and threw. He had given up his position now for sure, and he was at a severe disadvantage against a winged opponent.
The cast was all Raziel could have hoped for. The spear pinned the nephil as neatly as a needle through a pincushion, and with a shriek, the nephil fell. Flush with triumph, Raziel drew back his clan-drape to inhale the soul, but he froze as the sound of a second set of wings drew closer. He remembered with sudden clarity the newly-dead vampire he’d encountered before he met Yahriel, and her subsequent battle with another former seraph shortly thereafter. Raziel nearly groaned aloud – the damned things traveled in pairs.
No time to think, now. The wingbeats were growing stronger. Raziel drew his cowl away to pull in the soul before the second nephil arrived, only to see the green energy fade away into the spectral realm. At least he still had the Soul Reaver.
Screaming, the fallen angel’s companion stooped on him, talons extended. The undead vampire was barely able to roll away in time to avoid its sharp claws. He tried blasting it with telekinetic bolts as it swooped away, but it dodged and stooped on him again. Raziel slashed at it as it passed, hoping to land at least one good blow, but the thing only laughed and spun around again. This time, it grabbed for his sword-arm, and sunk razor-sharp talons deep into him. The ground receded rapidly as he was carried aloft.
For the second time in his life, Raziel was airborne – but this time, he was not the one in control. He struck at the nephil’s shoulder from his precarious position and had the satisfaction of seeing the its face bleed profusely. It hissed at him, then unexpectedly grinned. Its claws relaxed a bit, and with growing alarm, Raziel looked down. They were well above the ground, and with a sudden burst of understanding Raziel realized that the nephil meant to drop him. He grabbed for the winged one’s arm, but it easily shook him loose. Spreading his wings, Raziel tried to slow the rate of his descent, but he was falling too fast. He hit the stone floor with enough force to knock him completely into the spectral realm.
The world spun into shades of blue and green as his body dissolved again. The spear hung before him, frozen in time. Raziel picked himself up, shaking his head. He had been careless; overconfident, even. He would have to be more cautious if he were to battle these nephil pairs.
More sluagh were shuffling around in the shadows, and it did not take them long to notice the new spirit-form among them. Three of the hideous beasts loped towards him, and Raziel began blasting them with telekinetic energy. The leader of the pack took several bolts in quick succession, and it howled as its stolen energy bled off into the void. The other two circled him warily, waiting for an opening.
One jumped at him, hissing. He dodged easily, and swung twice with the Soul Reaver. It shrieked and ran, its red aura bobbing. Its companion, unmoved, struck out with misshapen claws, knocking Raziel backward. He recovered, and renewed his attack. The Soul Reaver sang through the air and rained blows on the unfortunate remaining sluagh, depriving it of its twisted parody of life.
Again, Raziel pulled his cowl from his face, and drew in the shades of the insubstantial sluagh. Their energy filled him, and he felt the power to manifest himself rise again. All that was needed was another portal. He looked around the cavern, and saw the concentric rings of energy shining in a corner.
Gathering matter once more, Raziel reappeared in the material realm. His adversary still circled high above, apparently unaware of his renewed presence. Raziel called the spear back to him, and the unexpected movement brought the nephil diving out of the air. This time, he was prepared – he threw, and the spear tracked his adversary so that the nephil dove right into the weapon’s wickedly sharp tip. With grim satisfaction, Raziel took the soul, enjoying the sensation of absorbing the energy of the being who had sought to kill him.
An opening on the far side of the cavern, reaching from floor to ceiling, appeared to be his only way out. Gathering up his weapon, Raziel ran on. The scent of water grew stronger, and as he approached, the thunderous roar of a river filled his ears. He passed through the egress, and found himself standing on the edge of a canyon high above the rushing, tumbling waters of the underground river. Foaming rapids churned, and the spray blew high above, covering the rocks with a treacherous, slippery layer of mist. Almost directly across from him, the shadowed entrance to another tunnel stood, half-shrouded in cloud.
Once again thwarted by the lack of wings, Raziel paced the river’s edge, puzzling. To swim such dangerous rapids would be futile, as the water would carry him downstream much faster than he could hope to swim to the other side. Even if he shifted into the spectral realm, there was no telling how deep the river was, and he could find himself wandering the canyon for hours, unable to get out of the riverbed. Raziel stared into the gloom, irritated. His keen eyes scanned the far shore, looking for an answer.
Again, Raziel walked the shore. This time, he caught sight of something unusual. Two sturdy metal posts were anchored firmly to the rock. He tugged on one, experimentally, but it refused to budge. Remnants of what looked like rope twined around the base of the pole. Bridgeheads, perhaps? Raziel stood between the staves and looked carefully at the opposite shore.
There! What was that? Something hung directly across from him, and it looked to be anchored to a pair of poles identical to the ones beside him. A fallen wooden bridge! If there were some way to bring it across the chasm again, he would be able to cross. But how?
Raziel stared at the crystalline spear as he pondered. At once, the answer came to him, and he nearly laughed aloud. If this spear would always return like a trained falcon to the hand of its master, then surely, like a falcon, it could retrieve something. He aimed the spear at the lowest board he could see on the bridge, and threw. The spear pierced the slat with a distant thump, and hung half-buried in the rock face. Raziel lifted his hand and summoned his weapon, and it pulled itself out of the rock – but not out of the board. The old, rickety bridge trailed behind it like a banner, and Raziel caught his prize. He tied the broken ropes to the pillars securely, then eased out onto the footbridge.
The bridge groaned and swayed alarmingly under his weight, and Raziel slowly crept along, avoiding any sudden movements. He hoped fervently that no new nephilim would appear while he was in such a precarious state, as he had little hope of fighting them on such uncertain footing. One foot in front of the other; gently now, don’t rock the bridge too much…
It was with a great sigh of relief that Raziel reached the far shore. If Yahriel kept her word, soon he would no longer have to worry about falling off of ancient bridges. A slight wind tugged at his wingtips, reminding him of the promise of flight. Hope, alien and elusive, flirted with him briefly, and in his mind’s eye he could see the bright flash of Yahriel’s wings. Soon.
The tunnel he had reached led higher into the belly of the mountain. He ran through the twisting passages, dispatching the occasional Turelim he encountered. Hardly a difficult task, but there was no telling what would happen when he encountered Yahriel’s brother. How to remove a soul without harming the body – a knotty problem if there ever was one. Raziel had Yahriel’s spear, but impaling her brother would surely kill him. His arsenal of glyph spells might work, but most relied on sheer physical force, which might or might not hold the answer. Water would be useless against a half-vampire – the skin of living beings was, of course, impervious to it. Fire or sunlight? He would have to think on it.
Still ruminating, Raziel slowed his steps. A pair of doors barred his way, which meant that something interesting must be inside. He put an ear up to the door, and heard both the grunted half-language of the Turelim and the hissing sound of feathers dragged over a stone floor. From the sound of it, there were several enemies inside, too many to take on one by one. He would have to eliminate them out with a glyph spell, and quickly. Calling eldritch energy to his claw-tips, Raziel prepared to open the double doors and inundate the room with Fire.
He pulled open the doors to see several Turelim and two more nephilim, who immediately spread their wings to take flight. The two Turelim nearest Raziel belched force-bolts at him, and he jumped to avoid the blasts. Firmly visualizing the shimmering form of the Fire Glyph, Raziel poured energy into it, and flame raced down his arms to light his talons ablaze. He lifted his hands up, and a wave of fiery energy set the room alight. The nephilim cried out in agony and fell back to earth, their feathers ablaze, even as the Turelim sought vainly to beat out the flames consuming them.
Raziel merely waited, unhurt, until the last of the vampires slumped to the ground. The room was filled with the lambent green glow of liberated souls, and Raziel gorged himself on the surfeit of energy. Safe for the moment, he paced around the room, looking for the next passage. High above, a ledge ran along the wall and up out of sight, but there was no obvious way within the steeply-walled room to reach it. Perhaps farther along the way, the ledge would dip down low enough to permit access. In the corner, another tunnel snaked out of sight, and there appeared to be no other egress from the room.
Faced with no other choice, Raziel entered the tunnel. Small and narrow, it hemmed him in uncomfortably. How the enormous Turelim managed to get in there was beyond him, unless the nephilim carried them down. He crept along, ducking and dodging rock protrusions.
He came out into what looked like a dead end. The sheer rockface offered no grips for his claws, and the ledge he’d seen before looked to be no closer. Cursing to himself, Raziel paced the room. Light from a torch danced over the walls, illuminating the folds of old lava flows. Something was different about part of the wall directly below the elusive ledge. A pattern of striated shale, perhaps forced up into the heart of the volcano by geologic activity, traced a convoluted but upward path to the top. Experimentally, Raziel tested his claws against the textured surface, and found that with a little pressure, his talons sank in easily.
Finally, a way up! He jumped onto the wall, punching holes in the soft sedimentary rock. Hand over hand, he climbed his way to the top. The erratic path forced him to reach and stretch, but soon he was pulling himself over the lip of the ledge.
Raziel doubled back towards the large cavern, this time on a higher level. His footsteps echoed strangely in the cavern, thrown back by the steep walls. He wondered how much further he would have to go to reach Yahriel’s brother. Yahriel had described the underground river, but he did not know exactly what qualified as "high up." If wings were required to reach Jehoel’s sanctum, all might be in vain.
The path grew steeper and steeper. Raziel’s footsteps slowed to a walk as he labored to climb the slope. Higher up, indeed! Every footstep was labored out of the sheer steepness of the grade, and several times his foot-claws dug into the stone as he lifted himself higher out of sheer force of will. Finally, the path began to level out again, and he ran more easily. In the distance, the shadows seemed deeper, and Raziel sensed that he was very close to his goal. He waited, alert, for any sign of Jehoel.
A wail, nearly inaudible, echoed down the pathway. Raziel stopped short and listened – it was the sound of a creature in pain. It was a sound most familiar to a vampire who had hunted ruthlessly with his Clan. For a moment, Raziel permitted himself to remember the vicious joy of hunting with his Clan, and an old hunger stirred in him for a moment. He was hunting again, but this time for the soul that would free him, not for sustenance.
The wail grew to a shriek, and the shriek faded into a desperate moan. Raziel followed the source of the sound, racing past tumbles of rock and leaping over fissures. The frenzied, insane crying was the stuff of nightmare. To Raziel, it was almost music. Ahead, the rock was split wide open, but what lay beyond was the ending Yahriel had promised.
Across a chasm, the dark, gaping maw of a large cave loomed. The tortured cries echoed from its entrance, and a constant stream of screaming and agonized shouting assailed his ears. Raziel approached the cave with unwonted trepidation. A different tack than the ones used to dispatch his brothers was necessary to bring down this half-vampire. The injuries his brothers sustained were all part of the fight, and necessary. However, the impaling stroke or blaze of fire that removed a vampire from the world would do him no good for this possessed seraph, since the angel would die from those injuries once the vampiric soul lifted from his body.
Before gliding across the crevasse, Raziel scouted the area for anything he could use that might slow down the seraph without injuring him. Debris from what could have once been a Turelim encampment was scattered among the rocks, and he began to roll some of the smaller boulders aside in order to find any overlooked weapons. A thorough search of the remnants revealed nothing interesting, and Raziel hissed in frustration.
A flutter of motion caught his eye, and the vampire whirled, alarmed. A breeze coming from somewhere – the cave mouth, perhaps – riffled the clan-drape around his ruined face and set whatever-it-was to further motion in the shadows. Yahriel’s spear at the ready, Raziel approached the unknown object.
It suddenly hissed against the rock, snapping in the breeze. Spooked, Raziel jabbed into the shadows with his spear, and felt it impale something. He rapidly pulled the spear back…
…and saw tatters of fabric hanging from the crystal head. With a dawning realization, Raziel reached a taloned hand into the crevice to pull out whatever was lodged in there. With a sharp tug, the piece of sturdy fabric came loose in a shower of pebbles. Something else fell too, dislodged by the rocks; Raziel could hear it slither down the wall and thump to the floor at his feet.
He held out the fabric at arm’s length, and shook his head in disgust at his own trepidation once the sigil on the cloth became clear. One of Turel’s clan flags, no doubt about it, left behind when his encampment moved on. The object that had fallen to the floor was a tangle of thin rope, used to hang the flag, and a few strips of leather ties.
The combination of rope, cloth, and pebbles sparked an idea. He sat down on a nearby rock and wedged the spear’s end into the rock so it was held still. The edge was very sharp, and Raziel brought the middle of the clan flag down across it to shear it into two sections. Another cut divided the flag into quarters. He laid the sections out and scooped a clawful of pebbles into each one, then gathered up the corners and wrapped up the pebbles, securing them inside with a short length of rope. Raziel then threaded a length of leather into and around the gathered portion of cloth for each little pebble-ball, and joined all four lengths into one knot. When he had finished, he had a crude but effective bola. He draped his new weapon around his neck and prepared to meet Jehoel.
A short glide across the crevasse put him at the cave mouth. The eerie moaning grew in volume, and gradually became intelligible:
"No! No! Get out of my mind, you filthy beast! Get out and leave me at peace…"
The words dissolved out into frenzied howling, and the sound of wings beating against stone was plain. Cries of pain and anger mingled, until abruptly the tenor of the voice changed to something low and clotted with age.
"You will yield, little angel; my master has commanded it…"
Raziel stood for a moment, listening to the two personalities argue with one another. Perhaps if he were quiet enough, the seraph would remain distracted and would not notice him until he was close enough to strike. He hugged the wall, looking warily towards the source of the sound and creeping silently closer.
The cavern brightened, and a winged shape flashed through the air. As Jehoel flew by, Raziel flattened himself against the wall and slid the Soul Reaver behind him so its eldritch light would not attract undue attention. He looked hard at the seraph as it winged overhead. Yahriel’s twin was gold where she was silver, and his magnificent golden wings beat an erratic pattern in the air. Sensing that the angel was not paying attention, Raziel edged out towards the seraph, who was holding his head in his hands while he hovered.
Abruptly, the angel turned in midair and faced him directly. For a moment, the face was white and terrified, then another presence took over and the seraph’s eyes turned a brilliant red. The vampire half had surfaced, and from the look on its face, it recognized Raziel. The seraph’s mouth twisted into a parody of a smile, and budding fangs glinted in the light. It spoke, and its voice was like old mud.
"The apostate Raziel, come to claim another soul. My Master will be most pleased with me when I have sent you back to the Abyss."
Raziel almost laughed. "Do not be so sure of yourself. The Elder raised me from that torment, and the hounds of Hell themselves cannot sunder what the Elder has created. I will not be packed off so easily as you claim."
Lazily, the winged one swooped back and forth. "You cannot kill this body. I know your bargain. This one’s twin tried to drive me off, but to no avail. A weakling, swayed by affection." The inflection in the voice turned the last word into a curse. "Slipshod work. She left this place, broken and bleeding, without her brother."
Now Raziel did laugh. "You mock yourself, abomination. You do not inhabit your body fully because your own precious Master was not patient enough to let the owner’s soul escape. Your soul will taste sweet, fledgling, for with it comes my own freedom." Raziel lifted the Soul Reaver and let forth with a powerful blast of telekinetic energy.
Caught unaware, the vampire angel was blown across the room to impact heavily against one wall. Raziel ran after it, pulling his bola from his neck. It shook its head, temporarily stunned. As Raziel approached, it snarled, and spread its wings for that first crucial downsweep to regain the air. It launched itself into the air, but Raziel was quicker. He threw his bola, and the entangling weights spun themselves around one wing, fouling it. His opponent fell heavily back to earth, shrieking.
Fisting his claws, Raziel ordered the Soul Reaver to quiescence. The angel lashed out at him, but pulled its attack abruptly and jerked its head back. It screamed, and when it turned its head back to Raziel, the eyes had changed to a warm amber-green. This time it was Jehoel who looked out at Raziel, and his smile was fierce and glad.
"You have it on the run, reaver-of-souls. Remember, what burns a vampire is warmth to the rest of the world…"
With a vengeance, the vampire soul came roaring back, and the eyes burned red once more. Raziel blasted it again with energy before it could get its bearings. It staggered but did not move. Curling his talons in, Raziel battered his opponent about the head. It grunted heavily, spreading the functional wing for balance. Sensing imminent victory, Raziel moved in closer.
A blast of energy not unlike the ones he had been firing knocked Raziel right off his feet. Cursing himself for a fool, Raziel recovered, and scrambled to his feet. He had let himself be lured into overconfidence. With alarm, he saw that the seraph had been taking advantage of the lull in battle to start shredding the tangle of leather around one wing, and it had already freed some of its feathers.
Gathering energy, Raziel resolved not to let the creature get the better of him again. He called up the Sound Glyph in his mind, and a wave of ringing energy rolled outwards. It completely bowled the distracted seraph over, and Raziel followed the initial burst with bolt after bolt of power.
The vampire angel groaned. Its legs buckled, and it fell to one knee. Blood oozed from the corners of its mouth and its nose. It crumpled again, barely catching itself in time with one hand. It looked at him again, and dull red blood dripped to the stone floor. Red faded again from its eyes, and Raziel understood that Jehoel was back in command again.
"Drive it out now, reaver-of-souls…" Jehoel coughed, and bloody spume coated his lips. "You may not get another chance…"
Frantically, Raziel ran the seraph’s riddle over and over again in his mind. What would harm a vampire but not a seraph? He stared at the injured angel. Jehoel’s feathers shook as he breathed, and Raziel stared at the golden feathers in a kind of stupor. Gold… gold was somehow important. The glow of light from the feathers reminded him of warmth, and something else…
Understanding came on him in a rush. Sunlight! Of course! Raziel called on the power of the Sunlight Glyph, and it came surging readily over him. It gathered in him, filling his mind with light. He lifted his arms up, and the white glow of light shone forth over the cave, illuminating it in one brilliant flash. When the blaze died down, Jehoel’s form lay still on the floor, but a Vampire Wraith wrung its insubstantial arms in anger as it faded into the Spectral Realm. Raziel dropped his material form, and the world twisted into greens and blues as he gave chase.
The Wraith was furious. It gave an earsplitting scream and dove at Raziel. He was ready, though, and the Soul Reaver ripped through its insubstantial form like a hot knife through butter. The blue aura around its head faded to yellow, but it was not finished yet. It dodged Raziel’s next blow and caught him solidly with a claw to the midsection. Immediately, Raziel felt his energy begin to drain away through the rent in his spectral form.
He swung again, and the Wraith’s connection to him broke. Another solid blow and the Wraith dissolved completely, its essence bleeding back off into the ether. Pulling back his cowl, Raziel sucked in the Wraith, and its soul energy poured down his throat like fine wine.
His hunger sated, Raziel looked around for a Portal. Satisfaction warred with anxiety. It was possible that his gambit had harmed the seraph, and he did not know whether Yahriel would continue to keep her side of the bargain even if her brother was dead. No soul had entered the Spectral Realm, but that did not rule out the possibility that the seraph was dying.
A Portal lay at the cave mouth, rippling blue fire. Raziel stepped into the middle and willed himself to manifest. The dank air of the former vampire angel’s sanctum surrounded him, stone walls bearing heavily down on the atmosphere. From the shadows, he heard Jehoel groan heavily, then heard the sound of feathers sliding over stone. Raziel approached, and watched the seraph as he hauled himself to his feet. Jehoel was clearly exhausted, and his wingtips trailed behind him on the floor as he walked towards Raziel. He gave Raziel a long look, then bent his bright head and bowed deeply before his rescuer.
"My…deepest thanks, reaver-of-souls." Jehoel straightened, and the lines of pain and tiredness etched into his face became clear. "Being possessed by the vampire soul was a fate worse than death. You have my eternal gratitude – and if I am not mistaken, my irin’s gratitude as well."
Torn between annoyance and gratification, Raziel opted to instead be brusque. "Are you hale enough to leave this place?"
"I think so." The seraph flexed his wings; they shook with the effort. "Though I fear that I will have to walk. My wings will not hold me for any stretch."
Raziel nodded once, then turned back the way he had came. He didn’t care whether he had to carry his charge out on his back; Jehoel was going to be reunited with his sister. He glided over the gap in the rock, glancing back to make sure that the seraph would be able to cross as well. Jehoel unfurled his wings and hopped across, stumbling a little on the landing. Satisfied, Raziel continued on.
It would be a long trek down to the base of the mountain, he reflected. But after that, the freedom of flight and the pull of the open skies awaited. With the image of wings fixed firmly in his mind, he began to wend his way down the mountain.
