• Chapter 6: Betrayal

    “So you told him about it?” inquired Aeulus over the phone. He was standing at the balcony of the Empire State Building, where he was sure he wouldn’t be caught by the police. They had been searching for him all Sunday. This added to the fact that nobody leaves their homes on a Sunday gave him all the reason he needs to stay hidden.
    “I have. Did you make sure that the evidence was clear?” replied the voice at the other side of the phone line.
    “As much as I could. We cannot make it too obvious, though. Those Reapers are too clever.”
    “You’d be surprised by their ignorance if you were walking amongst them.”
    “Fair enough. I want to have that artifact in my hand by the time I get there.”
    “You won’t need to worry. What will you do meanwhile?”
    “I’ll breach the village and destroy it.”
    “I will have trouble getting to the artifact’s holding room.”
    “I’ll convince them to open the way, do not worry. You just need to open that seal and get those two to bring it to me. I am aware that you cannot hold it for very long, lest you ignite yourself?”
    “Correct.”
    “That is rather unfortunate. Well get yourself ready and do not fail, understand?”
    “Yes, Aeulusiò.”
    Aeulus hung up and placed his cell phone in his pocket. “Everything is set.”
    “What were you talking about?” inquired Aile, who sat next to him in the limo.
    “All will be revealed,” replied Aeulus.
    Aile bent over and caught Aeulus’s eyes in hers. “Well we’re alone now. What do you want to do?”
    Aeulus grunted. “You should really give up.”
    “What do you mean?”
    Aeulus rolled his eyes. He knew that Aile had been chasing him around for quite a while now. For some reason, he’d been ‘The One’ in Aile’s eyes. Since the second World War, he had been Aile’s crush, always victim to her failed attempts at impressing him. But he gave up love long ago. It was one of the reasons that he defected to the Usurpers.
    “I am not going to give up, Aeulusiò di Aria. Not until I manage to get at least one kiss from you—and trust me it will last for at least a minute—I will not give up!”
    “Well then you will have to keep trying.”
    Aile stayed quiet for a few minutes, much to the relief of Aeulus. He was not enthusiastic when it came to speaking with Aile. She was beautiful, that is true, but he just was not impressed by her. In fact, she reminds him of someone who once managed to impress him long ago.
    “Aeulus, what makes you tick?” inquired Aile finally.
    “What do you mean by that?” questioned Aeulus, staring out the window. The rain had stopped beating. Even better for our plans, thought Aeulus.
    “Nothing seems to make you…I don’t know…react! You always seem bored of everything.”
    “It’s not that I’m bored, Aile. It’s just that nothing exciting actually happens.”
    “Are you saying that I’m not ‘exciting’ enough for you?” snapped Aile.
    “What?” staggered Aeulus.
    Aile tackled Aeulus. “How can I be a bit more exciting for you? Do I have to take off my clothes?”
    “Get off of me!”
    “Not until you answer my question!”
    Aeulus opened his mouth to say something, probably something that he would regret, when his phone rang. “Get off me, Aile.”
    Aile, for once, obeyed what he said. If you wanted to impress me, maybe you can try to stop being so pathetic and desperate. “Hello?” he answered.
    “They’ve arrived to the sewer,” said the man he spoke to earlier.
    Aeulus looked out of his window. He could see a cloud of purple smoke rising from the center of Times Square. He smiled. “Good. Where is the other entryway?”

    Earlier…
    Viola was awake the whole night, trying to stifle tears, silently mourning for what could have been. It was like loosing somebody to death yesterday. But instead, Nocturn reverted back to his old self, oblivious to Viola’s love for him. Dunkel most likely erased Nocturn’s memory just to the point where he lost all of his affection to Viola as more than a friend. Now, in Nocturn’s eyes, Viola is just a friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Now Viola has to hide her feelings once more, probably more than a few agonizing decades.
    Dunkel Chronos Easton treats her like his baby sister. He watches out for her and helps her in whatever endeavors she may face. Showing her feelings for Nocturn was one of those endeavors. She finally overcame that problem, but he just sent her back another decade into it. Why? Why the sudden change of heart? Did he just do that to cause me pain? Because it is working! she thought angrily.
    She got off the couch as light poured into the suite. The sky was light gray, threatening to weep once more. Viola felt at ease when the rain poured. Now she felt distressed. Nocturn lost his experience from loosing his memory. Experience is a way of learning for Paralleliuns. Schools helped in adding experience by assigning challenges to students, depending on what affinity they are aligned with. One must be able to store that experience in their mind, though.
    Viola tip-toed until she got to the door. Nocturn was sleeping in his own room, coughing and sneezing as he slept. Memory wipes can weaken a Paralleliun’s near impenetrable immune system. She slowly opened the door and stepped out, closing it slowly as she did. She let out a huge sigh, knowing that she was out of Nocturn’s auditory range. “Why is this so hard?” stuttered Viola, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I—”
    “You should be stronger than this,” interrupted a familiar voice from behind. Viola turned around to see Dunkel hanging up-side-down from the ceiling. That ability was one of the few stereotypes that stay true for real vampires. Viola never liked doing that. She always felt sick.
    “Why are you hanging outside the doorway?”
    “I knew you would be out around this time.”
    “I don’t want to see your face.” To make the point, Viola turned away from Dunkel’s upturned face.
    “Viola, I—”
    “I don’t want to hear your voice anymore either, Dunkel Chronos.”
    Dunkel seemed to take Viola’s refusal to say his last name as an offense. “I am your bigger brother, Viola. I am the one responsible for your safety.”
    “Why you?”
    “Because our mother and father wanted it that way!” Dunkel landed on the floor and stepped towards Viola, who took her own step forward.
    “Why you?” asked Viola again, sounding more critical at ‘you’.
    “Because any other bloodlines are either lost or just—”
    “Don’t say anymore. I don’t want to hear you again…” Insane finished Viola in her mind. My other brother is insane.
    “I wanted to speak to you, Viola, because I wanted to apologize for—”
    “I said I did not want to hear your voice again!” That’s a lie.
    “Let me finish!” snapped Dunkel, the first time he ever had for a little less than a century.
    Viola jumped. She turned around and eyed Dunkel, green eyes tinted with red from crying. Dunkel blinked slowly and came closer. “Finish then,” snarled Viola.
    “I am sorry, more than you know. I stayed up all night, smacking and punching myself for what I did yesterday.” He pulled down the collar of his turtle-necked sleeve-less sweater over a black t-shirt, despite the chilly air coming from outside, to show a purplish mark on his neck. “I even almost suffocated myself, thinking that will cleanse my biggest sin.”
    Dunkel, despite being a sort of demonic creature (vampire), is a Christian. He goes to church when he’s not on a mission, prays at night, and even goes to confessions when he gets a chance.
    “But no. And you may not forgive me ever in your lifetime, but please understand that I did what I did just to keep you—both of you—safe.”
    “Safe from what?” Viola started to tear up even more.
    “From yourselves. The—here me out—Usurpers are becoming more and more bloodthirsty. Just yesterday—I did not tell Nocturn this—three of our agents were killed. I am afraid that they might target you, for whatever reason.”
    “Why do you think they are acting this way?” inquired Viola in spite of herself.
    Dunkel smiled. “You were always very curious.”
    “Answer the question, Dunkel,” said Viola rather sternly.
    “They must be after something. I’m not sure what, not sure why, but I do know that it must be very important. And it has to be in this area. There is no activity in any part of the world except for New York City.”
    “So whatever they are looking for is in New York City?”
    “Right. We have agents everywhere, tracking down any activity. In fact, I am the head of these spies. Unfortunately, activity is rather scattered. There is really no point of concentration anywhere in the city.”
    “New York City is just one part of the state, Dunkel. You should be more watchful,” sighed Viola. She can’t forgive him, but she can be worried for him.
    “Well actually, there is one small point of interest. The Square. Ever since the incident on Friday, there have been sightings of Usurper activity taking place in that area. Nothing significant, but it’s making us wonder…”
    “Is there anything in New York City that is actually of importance?”
    “A few artifacts, but nothing strong enough to cause such chaos.”
    “Well maybe it’s just a war that starting to spark?”
    “No. There aren’t enough Usurpers to take down two million Dieu de la Mort agents.”
    “So they would just have a death-wish if they tried to attack us directly?”
    Dunkel nodded thoughtfully. “It has to be that they are after something.”
    “And they have to mindlessly rip through Mort agents just to get their hands on it?”
    “I don’t think that they are doing it mindlessly, but strategically. The agents who were killed were Carriers, people who had knowledge of some of the top secret pieces of information shared by higher members of the Dieu de la Mort.”
    “Why kill them?”
    “To keep them from telling us. No doubt the Usurpers have explained their plans to their victims before killing them. It’s a known trend amongst them.”
    “So then what? What are you going to do?” inquired Viola.
    “I’m going to use my queen here. I want you and Nocturn to go into the New York sewers right under Times Square.”
    “Why?”
    “There is one artifact that is hidden down there. Ghent and Ignus will be waiting for you there as guides. You are to retrieve the artifact and bring it to me so I can get it to Paralleliux.”
    “Fine. But I am not going to do it for you.”
    “Good enough.” Dunkel walked down the hall towards Suite 410. “Nocturn should be awake in the next five minutes. If you won’t do this mission for me, then at least do it for the man you love.”
    Viola turned towards the door to Nocturn’s suite. “That’s what I will do…” she said, half to herself. If it’s worth it.

    Nocturn walked out his room, feeling colder than normal. He was falling ill for sleeping all Sunday, at least that’s what Viola had told him when he woke up. Half-wolves are extremely tolerant to the cold, being able to withstand temperatures that would otherwise freeze human beings without protection. Because of his illness, his body is focusing on fixing his immune system, leaving him as vulnerable to the cold as any normal human being.
    Viola had walked into the suite as soon as he woke up, supposedly visiting Dunkel, who he had learned was actually living down the hall. Suite 410.
    “Suite 410? But that should be on the second floor,” sniffled Nocturn. He was wrapped into a blanket, shivering on his couch.
    “Now that you’ve mentioned it…” murmured Viola, fading into thought. “Why did he say that it was Suite 410?”
    Nocturn shrugged. “Maybe it’s an error.” He fought to keep from saying ‘human error’.
    “Probably,” nodded Viola. She had a strange vibe around her, but he could not tell what it was.
    “Viola? Are you okay?” he inquired.
    “I’m fine, Nocturn. Just a bit tired.”
    Nocturn eyed his friend. Something about her told him that she was lying. He almost said something, but Viola interrupted him.
    “Dunkel gave us a mission today.”
    “What is it?”
    “The Usurpers are getting a little too serious, and he suspects that it’s around some artifact in Times Square. There is some concentrated activity down there. He wants us to meet Ghent and Ignus down at the sewers right under the Square.”
    “When do we go?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Let’s go now.”
    “Don’t you think you need to get better first?”
    “Don’t worry about me, Viola. I’m your guard, remember? You should trust me.”
    Viola grinned, giving Nocturn relief. “I trust you then.”
    After they got their equipment ready, the two left the apartment, stopped at some restaurant to fill up, and got to the Square. The usual crowds of people walking around were still there, despite the events of the previous week. Just last Monday, Nocturn had defeated a Lionne which terrorized thousands of people. That did not stop tourism in New York. Neither did the gargoyle that attacked on Saturday. He was sure at least a fourth of the tourists were going to see the Cathedral. That was another thing that perturbed Nocturn about humans. They always seemed to go to their dooms when they could just as easily avoid them.
    He felt someone grab his shoulder. Instinctively, he elbowed the man and threatened to flip him over when Viola grabbed his wrist. “It’s Ghent,” she said.
    Nocturn looked at the man he attacked. It was a man dressing a gray hoodie, red jeans, and black boots. He had brown Caesar cut hair and blue irises. He had earrings lining the outside of his right ear. His skin was slightly dark, setting him apart from a lot of other vampires, which had rather pale complexions. Viola was also one of the dark skinned vampires.
    “Sorry about that, Ghent,” sneezed Nocturn. “Sorry, I’ve fallen ill.”
    “That is strange,” replied Ghent.
    “Let us go now, lest we be seen by any Usurpers,” muttered Ignus Pyre, who stood right next to Ghent. He had black boots, a black sweater, and black jeans. He was immensely tall compared to the short and stocky Ghent, who was almost as short as Viola.
    Ghent grabbed a memory-wipe grenade (Viola seemed to jump when she saw it, but Nocturn had not taken this into consideration) and Ignus pulled open the manhole they were near. Passersby watched in confusion as they watched a blue haired man jump into the sewer, followed by a petite, pretty looking woman and a tall and intimidating man. Ghent jumped in right after throwing the grenade, wiping the memory of everyone who saw them. Ignus closed the entrance to the sewer, leaving them in cold, gloomy darkness.
    “What is this artifact, Ignus?” inquired Nocturn as they felt their way down the sewer. He stepped into something slushy. The overbearing smell of waste had already clogged his too-sensitive olfactory sense and the sound of water flowing down the underground canal sounded like a great river rushing through a forest. He could hear every footstep of every rat within a mile radius. The sounds of human footsteps and honking cars were muffled through the concrete dividing the surface and the sewers. He could hear, more clearly, voices coming from ahead.
    “The Nocturnal Arsenal,” finally answered Ignus. “An artifact that has the potential to destroy whole civilizations, or even worlds.”
    “But Dunkel said that there weren’t any powerful artifacts in New York City,” said Viola with a rather distressed voice.
    “It has the potential to, but no one knows how to actually use it.”
    “Is it that ancient?”
    “No. It was just created by the most mysterious and confusing man in existence.”
    “Who is he?”
    “Nobody knows.”
    “There is the entrance,” announced Ghent, probably up front. Nocturn could see a white light ahead of them, only a few meters away. They continued there in silence.
    He could hear the voices more and more clearly as they got closer and closer to the white light. “Are there people over there?” he finally asked.
    Too late. They had stepped into a large, cylindrical room that was lit by some unseen light. There were mossy vines lining the round wall, which was extremely high. We’ve must have gone deeper than I thought.
    “This is Neimand’s Village, home of the homeless men and women who survived the War for New York City of 2015,” announced Ignus.
    Nocturn and Viola looked around. “I don’t see a village,” she remarked, confused.
    “This is considered the outskirt of the village. The real village is above us.”
    “How does all of this fit in here?”
    “We’ve gone down at least one mile.”
    “Really? It felt like just a few hundred yards.”
    “That’s just an illusion so that humans would not find it. It also discourages any of the homeless residing here from leaving,” explained Ghent. “It keeps peace this way.”
    “So why are we here then?” inquired Nocturn.
    “The Nocturnal Arsenal is just beyond that piece of the wall. I just need to get the elder of this village to open the passageway.”
    “The humans know of the artifact?” questioned Viola.
    “No they don’t. But the Dieu de la Mort who resides here does,” said Ignus. He whistled a peculiar tune. It sounded like the whistle of a bird. Suddenly, four ropes came down. One man slid down from each of the ropes and armed themselves with a weapon. One had a club, another had an axe, the third had a pistol, and the last had a primitive-looking hammer. They all wore what seemed to be buckskins.
    Nocturn pulled his sword out of its scabbard, waiting for one of the men to make a move. Viola looked at him then back at the men. “Settle down men. It is I, Ignus Pyre. I had brought Ghent and these two along with me,” announced Ignus.
    “Why are you here?” inquired the man with the pistol.
    “I would like to talk with your village elder.”
    “You may not speak with our leader,” growled the one with the axe. He had a larger build than the other three.
    “In fact, we should kill you where you stand, Pyre!” snapped the one with the club. He had a wily tone in his voice.
    “And why is that?” inquired Ghent. For a second, it seemed his eyes started to glow.
    “You and your big friend here burned our headquarters during the war!”
    “It was necessary for peace,” snapped Ignus.
    “Peace? You nearly killed everyone in that building!” retorted the one with the pistol.
    “You would have done that to us anyway.”
    “That’s it! Your head will roll when I’m done with you!” growled Axe. He lunged towards Ignus, who ignited his hands. The Magic of Fuego.
    “Thomas! Stay your weapon!” commanded a voice from above. The man with the axe stopped his axe just a foot from impaling Ignus. A man dropped from above and landed in the center of the circle, between the men and Ignus and the group. “You men may go.”
    Grudgingly, the four men grabbed their ropes and were pulled up by some unknown force. The man, the commander, looked at Ignus straight in the eye. “What are you doing here?”
    “I am here to see the Nocturnal Arsenal,” answered Ignus, keeping his eyes focused on the man in front of him.
    “Why? Do you not know that the last man to go in never came out?”
    “Are you trying to keep me safe, or are you trying to scare me, Crow?”
    “I should let you in, shouldn’t I? And who are they?” The man nodded at Nocturn and then at Viola. “Why are they here?”
    “It is their mission to retrieve the artifact.”
    “Oh no, no, no. ‘Retrieve’ the artifact? I do not think so, Pyre. This artifact had been kept in there for a decade.” Crow was average in height, had dark skin, and eyes that seemed half asleep. Nocturn could see what color his irises were, though. They were yellow. He wore a buckskin suit, just like the guards, but with black canvas pants. His hair was long, black, and braided, some of it over his chest.
    “It is imperative if we do not want the Usurpers to have it.”
    “I do not want anyone to take the artifact, Mort or Usurper,” retorted Crow.
    “If it is not the Morts who get it, then the Usurpers will just end up killing every last one of you.”
    “We can take down a few hundred Usurpers, Pyre.”
    “There are thousands in New York, Crow!” snapped Ignus. He had flames at the tips of his fingers.
    Crow stepped back. “Thousands? When? Why?”
    “We believe they are after the Nocturnal Arsenal. We do not understand why, but we do know that this is a possible target. The Usurpers have become more bloodthirsty, shredding through Dieu de la Mort agents and humans alike,” explained Ghent.
    “But why this artifact. It is so useless…”
    Nocturn looked over to Viola, who was looking at the three men who got suddenly quiet. She noticed Nocturn’s gaze and stared back. They shrugged at each other as the sound of stone grinding on stone sounded.
    “Thank you, Crow King,” said Ignus finally. “We promise to keep this village as safe as possible.” He motioned them to follow him into the opening of the wall ahead. Without looking at Crow, Nocturn followed.
    “Why was he so hesitant to open the entryway?” asked Viola once they were far away from earshot, breaking the silence they were in since they walked into the tunnel. It smelled better than the sewer and had fluorescent lights lighting the way.
    “Who is he?” added Nocturn. And why did the guards mention the war?
    “He is Crow King, a former war chief for the Hunkpapa, a Native American tribe. He was the one who killed George Custer in the Battle of Little Bighorn. He was supposedly killed by 1884, but you know how things go for us,” explained Ghent.
    George Custer was a Usurper, bent on killing all Indians. He was considered a hero in Paralleliux until the start of the Indian Wars after the Civil War. At the time, he fell ill and became suicidal and totally insane, leading him and his men to their deaths during the Battle of Little Bighorn. He was still considered to be a very crafty tactician, even in his last battle.
    “He is sometimes very arrogant, though,” continued Ghent, filling in for Ignus’s grim silence. “Pride must have gotten to him.”
    “What is he doing down here?” asked Viola.
    Ghent shrugged. “I guess he believes there’s something humble in poverty.”
    “I’ve noticed they were wearing buckskins. The guards I mean,” remarked Nocturn. “How? There aren’t any deer in New York City.”
    “These tunnels branch out all over the country. Nobody knows them as well as the Neimands, though. The homeless down here are only considered ‘homeless’ in the surface when you think about it.”
    “Are they all part of the Dieu de la Mort?”
    “No. Only Crow King. The rest are human.”
    “He’s wasting time then,” muttered Nocturn.
    “Why would you say that, Nocturn?” inquired Viola.
    “These humans are not really worth looking after. They nearly destroyed their own world many times. Why even bother keeping them alive when they always try to die afterwards?”
    “Not all humans want to bring their world to an end, Nocturn. When there is at least one of those, they all band together to stop that one evil person.”
    Nocturn almost replied when Ignus finally spoke, “Stay there. The way ahead is closed off by a protective seal. I must open it.”
    When Ignus left, Viola spoke again. “Why are Ignus and Crow King against each other?”
    “Against each other? I think that is a little too brash. But they do think like opposites,” replied Ghent. “I guess it has something to do with what Ignus did during the war ten years ago…” Thinking he said too much, he abruptly stopped.
    “What did he do in the war?” pressed Nocturn.
    Ghent sighed. “He nearly burned the entire enemy army into a crisp. That was a mistake on his part at least that is what he assured us. I’d rather not talk about it. It gives me nightmares just mentioning it.”
    A long and awkward silence followed. Nocturn looked at Viola. She turned her around as if she hadn’t been looking back at him. She’s acting strange today… What is wrong with her?
    Nocturn opened his mouth to say something to her, but she broke the silence first. “What’s taking Ignus so long?”
    “The seal is immensely large and powerful. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ignus came out with half of his body missing,” replied Ghent.
    “Why did he go alone then? Shouldn’t we be there?” Viola nearly started to sprint towards where Ignus had gone, but Ghent stepped in the way.
    “You would probably be killed with him if you go there.”
    “But… Nocturn, say something!”
    Nocturn shook his head. “Ignus survived many wars with foes that not even the entire nuclear arsenal can destroy. I doubt a simple spell will kill him.”
    Viola did not seem assured, but she did not say anymore.
    “Ghent, the Nocturnal Arsenal. What is it really?” asked Nocturn.
    Ghent shook his head. “I’m not really sure. They say it’s an artifact that has immense power and energy, being able to shape shift into many different forms. But the only way to unlock its power is to say the magical phrase. Ignus is the only one who I know who knows it.”
    “So he can easily destroy an entire world if he wanted to?” gasped Viola. Even Nocturn felt a little disturbed with that notion.
    “If he can get through Crow King first,” chuckled Ghent. Then he got suddenly serious. “I doubt he’d want to do that, though.”
    “The seal is broken for the next hour. Let’s get the artifact and leave,” announced Ignus, dusting his hands.
    Viola and Nocturn were guided into a large round room, lit by fluorescent lights. At the center of the room, there was a table that had a metal sphere held by a three foot tall vise. It was sealed off by a glass dome.
    “This is the Nocturnal Arsenal,” announced Ignus, waving his hands over the dome. He took off the dome and unlocked the vises. Then he picked up the metal sphere, staring at it with an unreadable gaze. He handed it to Nocturn as if it were acid.
    Nocturn held the silver sphere in his claws, turning it as he gazed at it. It’s just a metal sphere. What is so special about it?
    “That’s the Nocturnal Arsenal? This is what the Usurpers might be after?” questioned Viola, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
    “Do not be deceived by its humble look. Once the correct words are spoken, it will become the most powerful thing you will ever see,” said Ignus.
    The sound of screaming and crying rang through Nocturn’s ears. It’s coming from the village! Suddenly, he broke into a sprint back through the tunnel. “Nocturn, wait!” called Ghent from behind.
    But it was too late. He had already reached the ‘outskirt’ of the village just to see one man loose his arm right in front of him. It was Thomas, the axe-man.
    “Nocturn,” said a familiar voice. “How nice of you to bring the Nocturnal Arsenal to me.”
    Nocturn looked up from Thomas’s dying body to see Aeulus standing at the center of the room, his blade resting on his shoulder. “What are you doing here, Aeulus?” growled Nocturn.
    “The Nocturnal Arsenal. Give me the Arsenal now,” replied Aeulus.
    “No,” snapped Nocturn.
    “Ooh, cranky from being sick, are we?”
    Nocturn did not bother to think about how Aeulus knew he was sick.
    “Aeulusiò,” murmured Ignus from behind.
    “How did you know that we were here?” inquired Viola.
    “Why don’t you ask your friend over there?” replied Aeulus.
    “What are you—oof!” retorted Nocturn as he was interrupted by the toe of a combat boot hitting him on his back. He dropped the Arsenal, which was caught by Ignus’s broad hand.
    “Ignus!” yelled Ghent. Ignus ignored him and strode towards Aeulus. He placed it in Aeulus’s hands, and then ignited his hands.
    “Char their bodies black, Ignus,” commanded Aeulus as he turned towards the entrance to the sewer.
    “Aeulus!” shouted Nocturn, who was halted by a wall of flames which engulfed the opening.
    “You are not going to leave this village alive, Nocturn, Viola, Ghent,” murmured Ignus.
    “Why are you doing this, Ignus?” questioned Ghent. His eyes started to glow.
    “Because I am a Usurper, Ghent! I’ve been a Usurper since they first started. In fact, I am a founding member!”
    The news struck Nocturn like lightning. He instantly unsheathed his sword and pointed the tip of his blade towards Ignus’s neck. “Then traitors have to die,” he muttered.
    Ignus smiled and vanished. He reappeared almost instantly, behind Ghent, kicking him down.
    “Ghent!” cried Viola. She reached into the pocket of her pants and pulled out her pistol, aiming it at Ignus. “On behalf of the Law of Paralleliux, I order you to surrender before you make matters worse, Ignus.”
    “Oh I do want to make matters worse, Viola,” chuckled Ignus.
    Nocturn thrust his blade at Ignus’s chest, just to miss as the latter vanished again. Ignus reappeared behind Viola and wrapped his arm right arm around her small body. “A fitting queen for when I control the world!” he announced.
    “Ew,” whined Viola. “Let go of me!” She started to kick at Ignus, but to no avail.
    “Viola!” Nocturn ran towards Ignus, his blade raised. This is the worst time to forget my pistol, he thought.
    Ignus vanished again and, after reappearing about fifty feet into the air, sent a fireball at Nocturn. The latter tried to dodge it, but the searing heat added with his illness slowed him down. I can barely move. I’m not used to such heat anymore… Nocturn fell to the ground, sprawling as he stared at the fire ball, which came at him faster and faster.
    “Nocturn, move!” cried Viola from above. “Nocturn! Nocturn!”
    It’s no use, he thought as the fireball was getting extremely close. He could hear the dirt under him sizzle under the searing heat. He was paralyzed under the heat. He started sweating, something that hasn’t happened to him in years. I’ve dodged death hundreds of times before. Who is to say that I won’t die now?
    It all made sense. He was ill, the Nocturnal Arsenal had slipped from his grasp, and Ignus, somebody who knew so much about the Dieu de la Mort, had betrayed them. Death was inevitable. He is destined to die.
    The fireball was just a few inches above him now. It was moving slower than ever. Maybe it just did not make sense to be quick when your target was sprawled on the floor. “Nocturn!” cried Viola once more as he was blinded by the flames.
    It was time for him to die.