Horrors of Fire and Skulls (Mystical Warriors book 2)

THE RITUAL OF THE WARRIOR'S FIRE

Vaskàr touched down at the Temple. He saw Divra, who was still carrying the bodies of Nuallán, Magus, Regina and her sisters, landing on his back legs. Vaskàr couldn't believe, before his eyes, his mother's brothers were dead and his cousins were near death. A spiteful anger flared in his silvery eyes, sparkling from the moon's reflecting to a raging volcano.

"How is it coming to this?" Vaskàr signed angrily. "My uncles die! My cousins are very closely! All my family dying under one soul thinking himself as a Deity of Fire? No deities are born from flesh or spirit; they are the original creators of life, not destruction."

"Bad things happen," stated Divra. "The greatest of all warriors can't save seven people in five different places while saving four in the same different place. Even the seven deities themselves can't save us mortals from death."

"And that is the irony of life, isn't it? Death happens to everyone including those descended from the deities."

"Too bad your uncles couldn't be any more intoxicated," said Roy.

Vaskàr turned to the annoying Roy. "Unless if you can come up with a clever, a more brilliant way of being annoying than what you are, keep thy mouth shut, Roy, or I'll start calling you by your most hated nickname." Vaskàr puffed out a cloud of smoke from his nose and walked toward Brade. "Make tables, with you?"

Brade immediately stomped the ground with a leg, and six stoned tables popped from the ground.

Divra placed both the bodies of Nuallán, Magus, Marlene, Lanaya, Faine, and Regina onto the tables Brade just made and laid them out straight if preparing for a funeral. "Regina starts to breathe again but weakly. Her sisters also are breathing softly. The girls will survive no doubt, but their bodies have been severally damage like plane crash. They might not be able to fight ever again, but that's what a doctor would say. As a Silver Dragon, I can make them live on and longer."

Divra's claws were on the four girl's heads, giving her life from his silver body. Brade shoved the two tables holding Magus and Nuallán away from Regina and her sisters. Harth went inside the Temple and made sure there was no one there. Roy just leaned against the Temple's walls.

Vaskàr strolled to a nearby hill and looked at the distant sunset. Then Simura walked up to join Vaskàr.

"How can a single person become a Mystical Warrior if they aren't descended from one?" asked Vaskàr.

"A human has to give his life for a noble cause," said Simura. "Now seeing how human society is coming to, and its evolution, humans prefer their personal wealth over their spiritualty. The human race reaches out in the billions, not millions. Their technology is advancing, but ours still remain advanced."

"So the old ways of the Mystical Warriors are dying?"

"Yes, our ancient way of life is dying. Millions of people live in torment and giving up on us. They think we provide the answers to everything or give them what they want. Basically, they want us to do everything for them. That is the problem why people give up so fast; they expect fast results, they want things done overnight, they stress very easily, and they always think themselves as worthless.

"They're spread out far and wide while we are only a handful. The Mystical Warriors can't be in twenty places at once. While we grow weak, Årvondor grows stronger. The human race is his key back to this world's surface, as is Ra'siar. Both will get what they want, no matter the cost. One way or another, this Earth will be a fiery afterlife. No alliances can be made between them. And we—"

"FATHER!" a girl shouted.

Vaskàr and Simura turned to see Marlene, Lanaya, and Faine three of the four girls were recovering, but still remained on the table if they were having nightmares.