Dragon Raja

62 - The Sacrifice

Perhaps this was it for Reginleif—in all her efforts to escape, perhaps this was the peace she would finally attain—one she had to accept.

Then, her eyelashes fluttered shut.

And she choked as a tear slipped down the side of her head, the suffocating pain as blood filled her lungs and painted her skin and the white of her nightgown a deep sanguine.

The sea that surrounded the Yamal was the same color, littered with bones and fragments of dead bodies thrown overboard, Macallan's perfect feast and ultimate sacrifice.

The pain struck her like lightning and it shocked her entire body, Johann's sword was sharper than her dull axe, and she wondered if it was forged specifically to end her life. A crack in her bones and a wound too severe she wondered if she'd have enough strength to heal herself—or if it'd be better to let herself die.

"Pathetic,"

Reginleif's eyes snapped open and suddenly, she found Johann's blade had lifted into the air. He hovered above her but when she gazed into his eyes they were still dull and distant—he was still under Macallan's control.

But the voice that called out to her belonged to Jormungandr. And in all her seething pain, Reginleif adjusted her gaze to look behind Johann where Jormungandr stood with her hand stretched out, holding his sword back from slashing any further.

"You call yourself the holy maiden yet you rely on him to save you?" Jormungandr smirked at Reginleif with her golden gaze. "I can see it in your eyes—your desperation—you hoped he would wake up before his sword pierced your skin, didn't you?"

Reginleif's gaze was hazy and she could barely find the strength to keep her head up, there was still a gaping wound in her stomach, and the more she laid there unattended to, left to bleed out without the strength to heal herself, Reginleif knew she'd die.

But Jormungandr's glare was threatening and cruel, but in her draconic beauty, Reginleif wondered how Johann could've loved a woman like her.

However, she knew that in Johann's puppet-like state, he'd have continued stabbing her, cutting her open until she was nothing but a mess of flesh and blood and bones. Reginleif's head throbbed at the confusion racking in her head, the tightness in her chest, and her fingers limp and cold.

"You're not strong enough to heal yourself now," Jormungandr cooed down at Reginleif with narrow eyes, "I should leave you to die here, you pose no threat to me, after all,"

Reginleif gasped for air and fear crept up on her skin and left it pierced with agonizing pain. She turned her head slightly, enough to get a glance at the scene behind her—hoping Tiger or Snow Leopard would jump in and save her once more. But once she caught sight of the hoard of Macallan's zombies piling up, she felt in her gut that they were done for.

The puppets had created a mound over the area Tiger and Snow Leopard had been fighting, and the last bit of Reginleif's luck had run dry. Jormungandr would surely take Macallan's hand and doom the world for disaster.

"Kill her!" Macallan shouted again, preaching for the holy maiden's death. "My dear, Jormungandr, slay her and we'll open the gates with the offering of her blood!"

She flinched at the sound of his voice and forced her head back to face Jormungandr, who easily held Johann in his place. She ripped the sword from his hands and kicked him to the side. Johann remained still like a lifeless doll, and Jormungandr hovered above Reginleif with the sword in her hands.

"I should stab you again," she said amidst the cries of the ocean and shrugged. "I'd be more than happy to watch as the life escapes your eyes,"

Reginleif's head pounded with every heavy breath she took and at any moment, she worried her heart would just stop. A pitiful death for a pitiful girl.