Fire and Smoke

--Azala--

I don't know what magic his so-called Scythe employed, but its force was overwhelming. A thunderclap brought forth an explosion that blew apart not only Horot's head, but half his spine and ribs as well. Momentum kept the dragon going for a few more seconds before it fell limply to the ground. As he predicted, Gatix disappeared in a flash of black light, leaving behind armor shards where he'd rolled and cracks in the rock where he stopped. Whether he was still alive or not was anybody's guess.

“May our paths meet again.” My hands clenched the jar before I placed it against the rock where Gatix had been. If we were to reunite, in the near future or not, I'd make sure he could get his treasure.

Which is more than what could be said for these...

I stood up, slowly, casting an experienced eye over the battlefield. Bones littered the landscape like snow as the winds carried the clatter of the walking dead. I could see Horot's empty shell rebuilding itself where it had fallen. A force mighty enough to give even the combined armies of the skin-walkers and void-born pause.

But I was not afraid.

I skipped some details when Gatix asked - a woman does not like revealing her age - but I remember more than I told. I remember everything from the day I cursed the heavens and the goddess sent down her first Knight. The constant fighting and the uneasy truces. The hell of Kanak, the trap at Gor-Dyne, and the storms of Huma, to name but a few. Each time I lived to tell the tale. I remember each Knight as they raised their sword, proclaiming their intention to take my head and present it to the goddess. I remember as each Knight was lowered into the ground, hands folded across a weapon that would never be raised again. Only once did I shed a tear.

But, in all the years of conflict, never have I encountered a betrayal of this magnitude.

Never have I felt such rage.

My lips did not utter a lie, but I did not tell Gatix the whole truth. Not for a lack of trust - he had proven to be a more valuable ally than most. No, his faith in his abilities would have made him attempt the impossible. What's the best way to make sure a being does not regenerate? By making sure there is nothing that could regenerate.

Come to me… Orbs of deep red grew in each of my hands. Every muscle tensed as the flow of magic throughout my body increased to ludicrous levels. I could hear the warning of an old mentor, cautioning that channeling this much magic may consume me. I did not care. I wanted to be consumed. Wanted to let the rage, frustration, and loss of a trusted ally overflow until I burned a scar throughout the world. A reminder to any attempting to make light of me, that I am still Queen of the Void-born, and I should be feared.

More… Three red circles grew from my feet, each rotating in the opposite direction of the one before it. I felt something wet drip from my nose, but it didn't matter. Nothing else mattered right now, other than making sure everybody here would bear testament to the rage of the Queen before they die.

A wall of skeletons advanced toward me. Behind the front line, Horot's shell rose. It reared its head and let off an ear-splitting screech.

A fitting send-off.

Vulkaan!

I cast my hands up, and the world disappeared into a wall of fire and smoke.