Chapter 5: Episode 20- "The Ultimate Gift"

in #writinglast year

F4ABC2DB-C593-494E-8BEC-DC39C0095441.JPG

“Illith evye airiel cadu memocarth…” Khali’s voice chanted within her mind an ancient language she had forgotten that she knew: the tongue of the Galadharim of Sandruil. The words were an incantation of the Spell of the Soul, a phrase of magic that unbound any chains or spells that were laid upon an individual. Khali had used the Spell of the Soul before to cleanse against a debuff of an enemy evil spirit, but had never attempted it without a verbal incantation. Speaking the phrase inside her mind, praying it would work, having no other options.

She hadn’t heard Felix voice in a while. Was he alright? Was he… was he-, no! Don’t even think about it: Felix wasn’t meant to die here, not now; not after she’d just found him again. Khali repeated the phrase in her head until it felt as though she was speaking it aloud, maybe she was. “Illith evye airiel cadu memocarth. Illith evye airiel cadu memocarth!” Illith evye airiel cadu memocarth!” Khali barely understood what the words she was saying actually meant, but she knew they contained immense power. She didn’t need to understand them, she just needed to believe they would help her in this time of need.

“Illith evye airiel cadu memocarth!” Khali screamed inside of her mind until it felt like it might burst under the strain. Tears like emerald streams flowed from her paralyzed eyes, and over her heavy eye makeup. A river of desperate hope as the words replayed again and again to the tune of the netherform demon’s cackling laughter, mocking the weakness of men. Mankind was not weak! It found its strength in something other than cruel and indifferent power. There was more strength in love and in hope. More to live for and die for; more passion, purpose, promise: all of the things that drove men to do the impossible. Yes, there was strength in Mankind, and it usually showed up strongest when at the gravest of need. In one final, desperate cry, Khali spoke the phrase, believing it to her very core.

“Illith evye airiel cadu memocarth!!” Suddenly, as if the glue had melted from off her eyes, they shot open. The paralysis that wearied her bones and deprived her of strength fell off like a shawl and she scrambled to her feet; no longer the helpless traveler, this was Khali Savoor, the fearer she-ranger of Ironwood. This demon had met its match in fire here. The violet haired witch stood boldly before the fiery beast as it turned its attention from the fallen form of Felix to this new challenger.

“So. You wish to die quickly.” Arubix scoffed, his echoing voice billowed from hateful lips and hit Khali’s ears like a rockslide, harsh and crushing. The presence of it took her breath for the barest of moments. As Khali summoned her inner power, her eyes rolled back into her skull and her short, hacked violet hair flew back away from her face, hit with a sudden wind gale force that seemed to come from within Khali. A vortex of lashing wind encircled Khali, the demon actually looked slightly impressed. He’d dealt with witches before, but apparently not one of this sort. Khali was a different animal than other magicians, something in her essence was assaulting and daunting.

Khali was not needlessly reckless, but time may be running out for Felix. Carefully timing every action out to the perfect pacing, she summoned the power within: her ultimate gift. James Savoor had told her long ago how very precious she was, how special she was because of what he had given to her to protect. The force of a thousand storms lit within Khali’s face, as her veins sparked alive with pulsing blood in patterns across her cheeks and down her neck, down her arms and covering every inch of her body. She felt warm.

Power flooded through the she-ranger as she began to levitate from the unearthly forces defying the laws of the planet inside which she stood, facing off against a spirit being from the nether realm.

“And now, you die!” Khali’s tone was terrible and piercing. If demons felt fear, Arbuix would’ve cowered in the deepest darkest corner of hell. The wind about Khali lashed out, swirling at terrific speeds so much so that it was visible to the naked eye. Lighting began to strike around the circle of wind. A storm was brewing within the stoney chamber, which with each passing second looked more akin to a tomb. Any moment the demon would meet his doom.

Clouds gathered above Khali, the atmosphere of the room grew cold and moist and the shadows deepened as on a dark and rainy day. Khali’s eyes were white of glowing, like luminescent larva, repulsive and paranormally brilliant all at once. Her strong, ivory cheeks were flushed of color and appeared even more pale than usual. The violet of her whispy hair took on a darker, richer sheen, waving wildly around her face in the windy torrent. Her cloak whipped about her petite and well-knit frame. Every few seconds a crackling strike of white lightning would split the growing darkness of the chamber, its illumination accentuating every shrewd and delicate feature of the marvelous woman. Though she wasn’t much for size, it didn’t seem to matter. The power she held was kept in her heart, which could match the determination of an army of warriors.

The nether form demon readied itself for the onslaught, perhaps harboring a hope of surviving this new dread it faced. But the battle between the two forces was unfair and was over before it began. With a cry, Khali called down white fire from the ceiling. A beam of pure light, like a waterfall came crushing down on the nether creature from above, then another from the left, then the right; another came crashing in from the front, and a fifth came from the back. Each beam guided by the motions of Khali, as in a trance she brought utter justice to the evil spirit.

Up until this moment in time, it was uncertain if any mortal possessed such a weapon or power of authority to destroy a demon spirit and not merely its earthly form. Khali proved every uncertainty to be invalid. For if Arubix was not slain from all history and time in that moment, then he was surely banished to the farthest reaches of oblivion never to be seen or heard from in the world of men for as long as time would last.

The sheer force of a thousand storms and a vengeance so warranted, delivered with passion greater than any the evil spirit had ever experienced. And in an instant -Flash!-, the creature was obliterated from the world. The storm subsided nearly instantly and Khali fell to the floor, depleted of everything within her. She felt naked, vulnerable, alone as a child in the woods with wolves. She felt like crying; crying out for her father as she curled in a fetal position on the cold stoney platform, feet away from her brother. Khali felt as though someone was looking inside of her, the invasive feeling of being watched in your most helpless time. Here at the edge of the world, could anyone save her?

Khali lay on the floor shivering, powerless. The warmth had drained from her body and her eyes rolled back forward, but the color did not return to her irises. The once vibrant emeralds were a dull, and forever dimmed white. She couldn’t see, she could feel everything. The world spun. She was on the ceiling. The feeling of falling. Falling slow, then fast, then slow in an endless void. Water! She hit the water with a crash. Carried on waves, waves in her mind. Vertigo over took her as she lay, unmoving in body but lost at sea in her mind. Her throat was so dry, her stomach felt ravenous cravings for food: primal feelings of basic needs. She longed for pleasure, lusted for appeasement of physical feeling.

Where was she? What was this torture? Khali was aware she was slipping, fading off. But off to where, she wondered. Fading to what? Dreams? Or something worse than dreams. Maybe she would not think at all and just drift into pleasant nothinglessness and bliss on the wings of unconsciousness. She longed for nothing. Nothing at all. Everything could stop and be forever still, as long as she knew she could trust it to be still. She just needed something firm and sure in this tumult of unknown and disorienting changes. Something to hold onto that would be there even if everything else continued to change. She needed one sure thing.

She may have imagined it, but she felt a hand slip into one of hers where she lay on the floor. The hand held hers tight as she faded off into the unknown void. Something to hold onto.