This is not treachery.
This is freedom.
In the middle of Heaven and Hell, the days of rain and mist are long gone. Now, the Gap World is a kingdom of light and darkness, goodness and evilness, sunshine and clouds. When clandestine forces weave toget...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
AN EPIC BATTLE.
That was what I'd thought we would witness when Denfer's hands started emitting a golden light that looked holy and redeeming and so bright that it could be considered threatening by someone who didn't know him well enough.
As I dashed to the garden, Normant following close behind me, I almost ordered my own magic to be unleashed in case something went wrong. Normant must have thought the same because his fingertips were actually nothing more than tiny torches, flames waltzing around them. So here we were, on the house's threshold, almost seven feet away from Denfer, waiting for his next move.
The few men---amongst them three women in their early thirties---seemed mesmerized by the sight of Denfer's light. As he pointed his fists toward them, the light was as bright as the sun, but not in a blinding, scrutinizing way---in a calming one. Normant's breathing echoed in my ears and it was a clear indication that he'd also prepared himself for the worse case scenario. We shouldn't have had. We'd been fools for daring to believe that Denfer would combat his people.
"What is he doing?" Normant whispered when time felt to go still, the faces of the ten people turned expressionless, and the wind perished.
I didn't dare breathe. I only kept watching.
Their eyes twinkled with Denfer's holy light in perfect synchrony, and for a moment I'd thought he was about to enslave them, sneak into their minds like Amanda had done. The sun itself seemed to be mirrored in their eyes, and they all froze in place, as still as marble statues in some central square. My chest tightened at the thought, but I still hoped for the best.
Normant made to take a step forward, his fingers still bleeding fire, but I halted him, hoping that Denfer knew what he was doing; hoping that just because his power was infinite, he wouldn't use it carelessly. Yes, these men deserved it, for their threats and mocking words, but . . . I didn't know. I just wanted to avoid a lethal conflict at all costs. Putting a hand on my forehead, I tried to find out if I was furious or terrified; if I would be glad if they got what they deserved or shattered.
For the moment I was just wrong.
Because what was taking place right in front of our eyes wasn't a conflict, a battle, a punishment, and most certainly, not a deadly combat. A chill seeped into my bones as the once pale faces of those people slowly started gaining back their color, their cheeks having been painted the faint red of life and health. No one was moving except for Denfer's hands as he pointed them at every single person separately, his own chest expanding and shrieking with every heartbeat. With a momentary clarity, he continued illuminating their faces, infusing their hearts with light---at least it seemed that way.
He still stood tall and steady, somehow looking like the personification of redemption and salvation. The minutes passed, and Denfer's unwavering focus on his magic not only amazed me but Normant, as well.
