The Necromancer's Cauldron

Chapter 11

AN: Managing to keep up with these weekly updates so fat! Only two more chapters left after this one. Hope you enjoy reading~!

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Chapter 11:

The situation was dire. Those words rattled around in Drayce's head as he stared at the congregation of smoke and shadows. The foreboding presence was powerful, all-consuming. Cutting into his chest like razor sharp icicles.

He...didn't know what to do.

"Ah, Matchitehew," Nukpana crooned when the omnipresent shadows began to spread. "The Forsaken General. Rise through the Gates of Hell and take your revenge!"

There...had to be something he could do.

In desperation, Drayce turned toward Kyrell. He knew the significance of their situation far greater than Drayce ever could. Yet, Kyrell stood at a distance, arms folded, and truly and overwhelmingly unimpressed. In fact, the corner of his mouth suddenly twitched into a half smirk.

What...? Why would he-?

A bright flash of light quickly gained Drayce's attention, and he immediately snapped back around to train his gaze upon the centre of the clearing. To the cauldron. And to the smoke that...was suddenly a bright blue in colour.

"What?" Nukpana snapped, staring up at the smoke in angry confusion. "What's happening?"

"Ah," Kyrell suddenly tutted, even going as far as to chuckle. "But you did not summon a vengeful necromancer, did you?"

The blue smoke started to gather, pulling together to create a form. A wispy spectre, tall and slender. Ancestral robes and long flowing hair. The form emitted light, the very opposite of the previous shadows.

A celestian?

"Quite an unfortunate mistake on your part," Kyrell continued, his whole demeanour nonchalant. "You accidentally summoned the soul of the one who had desperately tried to keep this cauldron hidden."

"...Diandre..." Nukpana snarled lowly.

"The love of Sir Chevell, hm?"

The figure of blue light floated silently toward Chevell, who in turn dropped his sword and reached forward with both hands. Ready to pull the other into his arms. Frantic to do so. Something he had wanted, longed for, for so many years.

Drayce unexpectedly felt tears begin to swell in his eyes as a wave of emotion washed over him. He couldn't describe what he felt. How he felt when the two souls finally met, taking each other into their arms. The visible sigh of relief, the way their shoulders dropped as the held each other.

The way the light brightened around them for a moment, then dissipating into a brilliant sparkle.

And they were gone.

"Foolish of you to try to use the blood of the compassionate one," Kyrell continued to mock and chide Nukpana. Finding a bit of joy in doing so.

Nukpana had witnessed the entire scene, too. But unlike Drayce, it made him utterly furious. He whipped around to face Kyrell, shoulders rigid and tense, his face twisted into a hideous scowl.

"Without or without a necromancer wraith at my bidding, I will not be defeated," he snarled and thumped himself on the chest violently, giving but a small indication at his fury. "Lord Sephtis has imbued me with his power."

The self-satisfaction Kyrell had previously been displaying fell away abruptly, changing into a narrow, fearsome look of utter distain. "...Sephtis, you say?"

There was that name again. Who was he?

"And when I am done here, I will take that treasure hunter as my own! And I will become stronger than Lord Sephtis himself!"