Realm of Monsters - Chapter 632: Fear

Chapter 632: Fear

  “I am the Shield of Veres,” Stryga heard Gwyn whisper quietly to herself. Gwyn straightened her back, looked up at the giant, and spoke in an unwavering voice. “Who are you?”

  He looked down at Gwyn, taking the measure of her in a single long moment. Finally, he spoke. “I am Syrus Stjerneson. And I have come for the woman who defied a god.”

  Gwyn forced herself to not look back at Stryga, but the others in the encampment betrayed her; every goblin turned their heads and stared at Stryga and Gwyn.

  “It seems I have found my quarry,” Syrus noted. His voice was deep and yet melodic. Welcoming and all at once unnerving.

  “I am the one you want.” Gwyn raised her chin as if daring anyone to say different.

  “Gwyn, don’t—” Stryga hissed.

  “I am the one your masters sent to find,” Gwyn pushed on.

  “And what if it’s that drow behind you?” Syrus replied, unperturbed.

  Fire sparked to life in Gwyn’s hands. “Take one step closer and you’ll regret ever laying eyes upon her.”

  “And who exactly might you be? Are you her injured, limping guard? Must not be a very good one, judging by your companion’s missing arm.” Syrus cocked an eyebrow.

  Gwyn took a battle stance and channeled Green. A sword of stone arose from the ground. As she grabbed it, the flames in her hands licked the earthen blade and covered it in wreathing fire. “I am the Shield of Veres. Be it monster or man, here I stand, and I shall not falter.”

  “Is that so…?” Syrus muttered, then he shrugged. “Very well.” He snapped his fingers and a sphere of light sprung to life and encapsulated both vampires.

  Without blinking, Gale struck at the sphere from within but it did not shake, let alone crack. Stryga tried to call forth chromatic energies, but as she took a breath she winced in pain. Her injuries were too severe, she could hardly stand, let alone channel magic. She stumbled and threw her arm out, catching the wall of the sphere, and leaned on it. The sphere was slick to the touch like wet polished marble and it was warm, almost as if a fire was burning underneath it.

  “What is this!?” Gwyn yelled and slashed at the sphere repeatedly, frustration mounting on her face.

  “Radiant magic,” Syrus replied.

  “True Yellow,” Stryga said in recognition.

  “Indeed. Now, if I so desire, I can have the radiant orb reflect a certain portion of your magical attacks back at you, so I suggest you calm down if you don’t wish to be burned to a crisp,” Syrus said.

  Gwyn froze and looked at her sword as if it had betrayed her. “My lady, I—”

  “It’s alright,” Stryga placed a comforting hand on her forearm.

  Syrus approached them. “I can’t be one hundred percent certain which one of you is my target. Fortunately, I don’t have to be.” He placed his palm on the yellow-tinted sphere and lifted his arm, and the radiant orb came with it as if it weighed nothing.

  “Wait,” Sevryn took a step forward, but Lenore quickly pulled him back.

  “Do any of you have a problem?” Syrus glanced at the goblins.

  “None whatsoever,” Nalindor was quick to reply.

  “Good,” Syrus said with condescension. Silver wings sprouted from his back, each twice as long as the giant. With a single powerful wing beat, he shot into the air and quickly disappeared into the sky.

  Both women slammed into the bottom of the radiant orb from the sheer acceleration of the flight. They tried to get up, but Syrus quickly changed directions, slamming them into the side of the orb as he made a beeline to a mountain in the distance. Gwyn reached out unconsciously and grabbed Stryga’s hand.

  Though it only took a few minutes, it felt like hours by the time they reached the snowy cap of the mountain and slowed into a descent. Syrus landed with a heavy thud, blasting the snow away, and causing Stryga and Gwyn to bounce a couple of times in the orb.

  A ringing resounded in Stryga’s ears and she blinked a few times before gathering her bearings. They were at the mouth of a cave near the top of the mountain. As Syrus dragged the radiant orb closer, Stryga noticed the cave walls were too sharp to be a natural formation. The sunlight quickly died as they went inside the cave but it was just as quickly replaced with the soft blue light of magestones embedded into the ceiling and walls.

  Inside the cave was a large open room, carved right out of the mountain. Pools of steaming water were scattered across the room. Hot springs. Why had this god dragged them to some hot springs at the top of a mountain?

  “I have brought them, Father.” Syrus bowed his head.

  “Them?” a familiar voice came from the steam.

  “There were two women. I thought it’d be easier if I simply brought them both,” Syrus replied.

  The familiar voice sighed deeply. “And since when has ‘easy’ been the standard that we measure our actions by?”

  Syrus swallowed audibly. “Forgive me, Father, I—”

  “Enough.” A faint silhouette waved through the mist and banished it, revealing a man similar to Syrus himself, though he was a shade of paler blue and his features were sharper. There was a beauty there that Stryga had difficulty describing, she was at a loss for words. His chiseled chest was bare, slick with steam, while his bottom half was hidden in the water. Long white hair was tied in a simple ponytail that draped over his shoulder. 

  Yet it was his eyes that caught Stryga and Gwyn’s attention. Stjerne’s glowing eyes bore into his son with disapproval. “I invited you to this Realm because I thought you were capable of handling the tasks I gave you, but perhaps I should have brought Thalia instead.”

  “Thalia hates the cold, she would have loathed to visit the coldest of all the Realms,” Syrus said defensively.

  “I do not care what Thalia hates. It does not matter what she hates. She is not some child to be pampered and shielded from the whims of the weather. Are you a child, Syrus?”

  “No, Father.”

  “So why are you treating my guests like prisoners?”

  Syrus snapped his fingers and the radiant orb disappeared in a small burst of light. Gwyn and Stryga collapsed, both falling hard on the wet stone floor. He helped them both up without a word. 

  “They’re injured? Why is she missing an arm? Did you beat them half to death?” Stjerne frowned.

  “They were already injured when I found them,” Syrus explained.

  “And you didn’t think to heal them?” Stjerne pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Why do I even—?”

  “~Relax, Death~ Everything is fine.” A pair of dainty magenta-red arms appeared from the steam and wrapped around Stjerne from behind. The beautiful woman placed her head on his shoulder and her full red lips curled in a smirk, her wet golden curls giving her a slightly wild look. 

  Stjerne seemed mildly annoyed at the interruption, but accustomed to her actions. “Fear, I’m in the middle of speaking—”

  “Sorry, everyone, my big brother isn’t always like this. He’s usually quite nice. He’s just been in a mood these last few days,” Fear winked.

  “That tends to happen when selfish mortals raze an innocent city to the ground, Fear.” A head of dark green hair, almost black, emerged from underneath the water, though only up to her mouth. Her pale complexion contrasted with her hair and glowing green eyes that were currently giving the magenta-red woman the side-eye. 

  Syrus bowed his head once more. “It’s an honor to see you both once again, your Cataclysmic Eminences.”

  “Aw, so formal.” Fear batted her eyelashes and giggled. “You can just call me, Auntie.”

  “I could never—”

  “Are you disobeying me?” Fear narrowed her eyes, all mirth gone from her voice.

  Syrus paled. “N-Never, Auntie.”

  Fear broke into a wide smile, her eyes small crescents. “Hehe. I knew you were my ~favwit nephew~”

  The pale woman rolled her green eyes at Fear’s antics and submerged herself back into the pool. 

  “Fear, off,” Stjerne patted her forearm.

  “Aw, fiiine,” Fear groaned dramatically and released her brother from her embrace.

  Stjerne stood to his feet, revealing his naked self, and walked over to a small pile of clothes at the edge of the pool. Reaching down, he pulled out two golden vials, paused, and put one back. He glanced at the vampiress, “What is your name, girl?”

  She blinked, stunned by his beauty. Her eyes darted down to his nether regions before she forced her gaze up. “G-Gwyn, sir. I mean,” she cleared her throat, “Gwyn of the Great House of Gale.” She felt as if he could ask her anything and she’d be only too happy to answer. 

  “A Gale, hm?” Stjerne tossed her the vial. “Drink this.”

  Gwyn caught it instinctively. She only took a single glance at the vial before uncorking it and sniffing it. The golden liquid inside smelled like— nothing? What was this? She furrowed her brow.

  “What are you waiting for, girl? My brother gave you an order,” Fear said, her voice dripping with an icy edge.

  Gwyn glanced at Stryga who nodded. Gwyn closed her eyes with a wince and drank the whole vial down. She blinked repeatedly and ran her hands across her own body. “I feel…” She took off the bandages across her face and the rest of herself. “My injuries, they’re gone…?”

  “So, Gwyn, are you this one’s Shadow?” asked Stjerne.

  “No. H-How did you—? Did you make this?” Gwyn held up the vial, wonder in her gaze.

  “A Veres traveling without her Shadow, odd, no?” Stjerne asked.

  Gwyn’s expression died down. “My brother, Syrak, was Lady Stryga’s Shadow, he…”

  Stjerne snapped his fingers, “Oh, wait, I killed that one.”

  Stryga grimaced at the memory.

  Gwyn froze. “What did you say?”

  “Yes, I remember. That woman kept screaming his name after I cut his head off before I killed her too. What was her name? Ah, right, Lana.” Stjerne stared at Stryga as he spoke. “Strange, isn’t it? Taking for granted the people you hold so close only for them to die just like that? How many lives do you think you took the day you attacked Lunis, Blue Rose?”

  Stryga swallowed. “…I—”

  “You fucking bastard!” Gwyn screamed and charged Stjerne without abandon.

  Stjerne stared at her, uncaring. Syrus went to grab her, but the hot springs exploded in a mist of water. Fear was suddenly standing between them all, her hand wrapped around Gwyn’s neck. 

  Fear’s golden irises shrunk to pinpricks and her sclera turned black. “What did you just call my dear brother, you little rat…?” 

  Gwyn kicked the air helplessly as she dangled from the giant’s hand. Her pale face grew flush as Fear tightened her grip.

  “Please, don’t hurt her!” Stryga dropped to her knees and begged.

  Fear ignored her pleas. “Do you think your brother’s life somehow amounts to my Death’s? Your small, miserable existences do not even amount to an iota of my brother’s life and yet you dare, YOU FUCKING DARE!?” The cave shook at her shout and Syrus backed away.

  “Calm down, Fear, you’re making the water get everywhere,” came a cold voice from another pool.

  “Tch.” Fear glared at the silhouette hidden by the steam. “Why do you always have to ruin the mood, Des?”

  “Because he’s not a psychotic bitch like you?” mused the dark-haired woman, emerging from the pool once more.

  “Oh shut it, Agony. You and Desolation are no fun. I can do what I want with her, right, Death?” asked Fear.

  “You’re not going to kill her,” Death noted. It wasn’t a question, but rather an observation.

  Fear beamed. “You already figured it out?”

  “I did.”

  “You’re the only one who gets me, Death,” Fear sighed in satisfaction. She turned to Gwyn and booped her on the nose, “I have special plans for you.”

  “What is she talking about?” asked Agony suspiciously.

  “I’ve been trying to recreate a certain project that you’ve tried to eradicate, dear sister,” Fear giggled.

  Agony’s green eyes went wide. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “You’re looking at what might be the first new wraith in a millennia,” said Fear proudly.

  “If you even partially succeed I will kill your pet on sight,” Agony growled.

  “We shall see.” Fear smiled a little too wide, the edge of her mouth stretching far more than seemingly possible, revealing sharp teeth. “Come, little rat, let’s see what your miserable existence is worth.”

  Stryga watched in horror as the goddess dragged a helpless Gwyn away by the neck. Gwyn reached her hand out to Stryga, tears in her eyes. “My lady,” she called out silently.

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