Member for 10y & 6mon
August 22, 2017 3:13pm
Ferry Ever After: Part 12
Dark, rolling waves bombarded Rai and the ground where she stood, smashing graves and exposing coffins around her.
A few feet away lay her broken sword. Irreplaceable, probably, after Lady Christina ran her out of the casino for a few lucky streaks.
"That's someone who gets what she wants."
Who was that purple-haired youth who said that about her, long ago? Well, he was wrong.
Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.
You don't feel pain if you're dead. So was she not dead...?
A flicker of blue across her vision. Fins and spines, a flowing serpent.
The bottle of Crystal Geyser. Surely bottled from the purest, most crystalline waters. From the icy caves where Cocytus dwelled, under Auguste's highest waterfall.
Rai's eyes flew open. In her hand was a long-barreled pistol. Leviathan's Muzzle. How did that get there?
Her fingers curled around the grip.
In that moment, she vowed not to give up. Not on casino, not on the purple-haired youth.
That youth was right. If she just tried hard enough, she would get what she wanted.
Typh threw his arms up as Celeste's black fog engulfed him, his staff rotting away. His trusted staff. He made that staff himself, as proof of his skill in earth magic. Was it all for nothing?
He clutched his head in agony. Voices whispering in the fog--
--you know where power lies, so reach out for it
--embrace the path of chaos,
I just want--
--to be strong?
I don't want to lose my friends--
--and you won't have to, with that power,
Or hurt them--
--they'll always be at your side,
Or force them--
--you don't want to die, do you?
--then embrace that power
If it's for Sen--
--you'd do anything
I will be strong for Sen--
A hand on his shoulder. "You're alive!" exclaimed Sen.
Typh looked at his hands. Not rotting, not even pale. A witch in red was casting a veil over them. "Magisa? What're you doing here?"
The witch smiled. "I'm not through with you just yet," said Magisa. "How're you feeling?"
He rubbed his forehead. "Mm, not sure. But..."
The fog was thinning out. Katalina was casting a veil over Xeta's team.
Surrounded, Spark sank to the ground, coughing.
Crack! Crack! Rai's shots rang out, followed by Xeta's. Shoving a summonstone into Lyria's hands, Mae raced into the fray.
Sen and Magisa stared as Typh drew his fragarach sword and traced a sigil in the air. The traces of the black fog turned purple and rushed back at Celeste.
One by one, they picked off the undead crewmen.
Magic surged around Lyria, an angel's sillouette behind her. A fierce, golden light swept across the air, tearing at Celeste.
Groaning, Celeste turned to flee.
Raising his angel axe, Ark ran down the hill. "I'll smash the rudder," he shouted.
"No, hit the right wing propeller," gasped Spark. "The axle's weak."
"Shut up!" Ark threw his axe at Celeste's rudder, missing completely and hitting the right wing propeller.
A mournful ship's horn. Shuddering, Celeste disintegrated.
Concluded in part 13