The Purleighan Realms: Dragonfall
Darsyx held him, but only just. Part of the God of Protection understood exactly what his friend was going through, and refused to bring his full strength to bear, but he worried that might have to.
Vrayl was not himself.
Darsyx moved to tighten the choke, but Vrayl spun and dropped, neatly slipping free of the choke.
He slumped, the spectral dragon surrounding him vanishing. Quietly, Darsyx sheathed his blade. Vrayl was likely one of the closest things to a friend that Darsyx had.
"Why do you want to know?" asked Nermal, uncharacteristically direct. Darsyx raised a single eyebrow at her, and she gave him a single glance.
Vrayl's power flared, rushing out to envelop Nermal. Darsyx never even had time to draw his sword before Nermal's own power reached out batted Vrayl across the room; a cat, playing with a mouse.
"Stand aside, Darsyx. She knows who killed my wife, and I will have my retribution."
"You will have nothing, boy," she snarled, her focus entirely on Vrayl. The world seemed to slow to a halt, and Vrayl froze midstride, face contorting with effort.
The Dragon-God surged forward, a hurtling wave of claws and power ripping through the air.
"MY HOME IS DEAD!"
"You've learned, Vrayl," Darsyx said softly. "You're formidable, in your way."
Vrayl said nothing, just watched, waiting. Darsyx shook his head. "You can still walk away."
"I can't tell you what I don't know," Darsyx answered, his voice ringing with the power of his other domain, Truth.
"She can."
"But I wont. Did Darsyx break something in that thick skull of yours, Vrayl?" asked Nermal, sarcasm dripping thickly in her tone.
Darsyx let out a heartfelt sigh, stepping back. At least this would be an end to it. He'd see about calming his mate down, and then having Cayden wipe Vrayl's memory.
"No." The shattered nothing around Vrayl pulsed, once, then twice, and his spark flared brighter.
"Before dragons, before retribution, I was Defiance, Nermal," he answered, speaking in snarled Draconic, Purleighan speech eluding him as he fought her irresistible commands.
Vrayl froze, mid-word, and looked down at the midnight-black steel protruding from his stomach. A strangely comforting hand squeezed his shoulder. "I am...truly sorry, my friend."
"I would prefer not to," answered her mate honestly.
"Are you defying me, my mate?"
Darsyx shrugged. "Not really. I didn't want to kill him in the first place."
Nermal stared at him for a long moment, then looked at the spreading pool of blood beneath the choking god.
"Craven."
"Craven. With the demons and devils and such."
"Craven, the prison, that nothing escapes from and nothing leaves without your express permission."
Vrayl tried to speak, but the words were muffled by blood. Darsyx leaned in.
Darsyx's hand tightened on the hilt...and then he let it go. "We all deserve a second chance. You'll find yours in Craven."
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