Maintain the Madness

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It was as if the sky had forgotten to put up a storm, for the crack which resonated like a clash of titans was not a dooming storm, but the collapse of a haven for many. Like flowers the stones of the palace had tumbled, smoke rising into the air as the cries of men calling out for their gods howled through the hollow morning air. The fall of a palace believed by many to be the next capital of the magical world.

It was as if time had ceased to exist in those moments, for the empty air created a bubble for the bloody man who stood observing the downfall of his once-home. As his hand struggled to take hold of the sword in his palm, blood trickled from his mouth as those golden eyes found it impossible to shut in this moment. The bodies of men he had fought beside lay buried under layers of stone. The bodies of men he too had killed met the same fate.

As River pulled the blade of his sword out from the body of his latest victim, he swore to himself, a promise which would be in favor of the woman he charged into battle with. The woman he intended to see survive. Yet it was as River watched the stones fall and consume the ground below, it was in that moment he had wished there existed a god to call out to – to beg that Leala Maxwell not met the fate of being crushed to death. Having found himself on the opposite side of where he wanted to be, River felt as if he was worlds away from the woman he wished was beside him.

A cry of anger sounded behind his shoulder, causing the once-Alpha of this pack to perform a pirouette, bringing the blade of his sword around as the blade sliced into the body of his attacker. His sword had nicked the leg of the elf. "You bastard," Asger cried out, falling to his knees as the two men were equally bloodied and exhausted.

It was only what felt like seconds ago when River found himself standing across from Asger and two other men, telling those he had entered with to flee. The two men Asger had cried to knock down River did not last long. Yet it was not at River's hand that those two elves met their doom. It was when Asger had taken River through a window, the glass shattering as the two men tumbled to the ground below, falling and tumbling down a set of stairs which led to the entrance of the palace. When River had looked around to his new surroundings and found himself carving up an elf who charged for him, that was when the palace he was just within let out its final breath.

Looking back, River knew he had to fight for his own survival in these moments. The man who had once been his righthand man, his best friend, and the elf who River had grown up with, Asger had changed and was seen in a new light. The elf pushed his hair from his face, eyes narrowed as he picked himself up. "Distracted by that twat you call Queen?" Asger remarked, rising to his feet, and tightening his grip on the dagger in his hand.

River readied his blade, keeping himself on his toes as he kept his knees slightly bent. The moment River expected Asger to jump out at him, cheap magic was created in the air. A white flame burst from the air, concentrated in Asger's palm as his eyes flickered silver. Channeling chaos, Asger unleashed a hellfire, concentrating the projection of the flame upon River.

Acting fast, a sign was placed and words whispered, a shimmering shield blocking the path of the flames. As the golden-eyed werewolf in human form was successful in his defense, the flames dispersed around the shield, cracking the stone stairs behind him. River found himself exhausted as he kept the spell projected over his frame, struggling to trust his strength in these moments as a look of rage passed over Asger's face. The elf charged with a long blade in his hand, yielding the weapon with such a hunger that River took a step back. Reading his weapon once more, River planted his weight on his toes and bent his knees.

Asger took a swing. River leapt backwards, keeping his feet in the same orientation, moving back further diagonally. With his stance restructured, River watched as Asger moved quick on his toes, following River's movements as the two performed their duel. The dance was not one of passion, but utter rage as they both took turns attacking the other, wielding their blade with strong grips. Metal met metal, the two animals representing the art of the duel. Equally matched, River had expected such to occur, for the two had begun their training together while still living in Europe and away from the mess of the human realm.

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