Empire of Blood

Chapter 8: The Dragon's Dance

Azrael bade Selena farewell before she returned to their bunker as Doragon soared overhead. He and Thor exchanged civil pleasantries, and Thor excused himself, retiring to his quarters for the day. After ensuring his rider was well, Doragon and Azrael retreated to their stall and relaxed together in silence. Facing the Obsidian Order and his past was almost too much for Azrael to bear; he was exhausted.

Doragon wrapped his wings around him and nudged his arm in comfort. You did the right thing.

He leaned his head back and smiled at the heavens. Yes, I suppose so.

The rustling leaves near the forest edge disrupted his tranquil thoughts. Azrael saw a doe grazing when he whipped his head around; she ignored their gazes. Out of curiosity, Azrael left Doragon's protective wing and sauntered towards her with his hands stuffed in his pockets, not wishing to startle the gentle creature.

His eyes drifted over the doe's head, and his face drained of color. Azrael swiveled his head, but he couldn't find the looming threat. He was able to approach from behind without disturbing her, but the doe turned around. To his surprise, she didn't flee; Azrael reached out to pet the animal, but she rejected his touch. The doe immediately sprinted, running deeper into the forest.

The ancient woodland called him into its pulsating heart. The deep, haunting ballad of its grisly song tinkled in his ears as Azrael stumbled through the over-arching vault of leaf and limb. The beauty of the setting moon's light had lanced through the lush, green turf. Black shadow adorned the groves—vaporous mists wrapped around the tall pine trees; the forest's damp breath overhung the hallowed ground. Yet, a grave silence lingered in the gloomy atmosphere.

Azrael followed, but the deer would dash away every time he drew close. Eventually, he paused, keeping his distance, and observed. Satisfied that he respected her privacy, she crouched down behind a hidden bush. When Azrael bent over and moved the leaves with extreme caution and care, he was shocked to see that the doe had a fawn with her; he guessed it must be a newborn.

The mother doe nudged her fawn, and the two pirouetted away from him in such grace and elegance, but she looked up at Azrael once more before leaving. Azrael moved away not to bother them, as he knew he couldn't stop their inevitable fate. However, he suddenly had a change of heart; his expression changed when the worst was soon to happen.

Just as the doe took her last step, a gunshot rang through the trees. She fell forward and landed in a pool of her blood, leaving the panicked fawn crying for its fallen mother. The baby hunkered beside the doe's corpse when Azrael rushed over, and he mourned this loss.

He snarled when the leaves and brush parted, and a hunter donned in furs and leather made his way through the foliage with a rifle in hand. "That's my kill. Get away from that now, or else."

As the man loaded another bullet, his face flaming red, Azrael gritted his teeth and summoned his spirit pistols. The hunter became intimidated when he saw his magic and ran back the way he came.

Releasing his Aether firearms, Azrael knelt beside the mother. She was already gone, but he wanted to help. He had to: she was a mother. How could it have been her time?

Azrael.

He ignored Doragon. No, this isn't fair.

Stop, and let her go.

I can do this.

However, Azrael knew it wasn't any use: he wasn't allowed to bring back the dead, no matter how unjust. He held up her head as he fought back his tears. Her body was limp and cold, and he saw it in her eyes. Azrael put her down and prayed in silence, and the fawn trembled beside her body, nuzzling its tiny head into her fur.