Dear All,

here comes another chapter and then the last one will follow. I hope you will enjoy it and I would like to thank and dedicate this chapter to AnuKalita as you gave this story a chance and you supported it: thank you my dear!

And for now, enjoy it,
-TheWitchAndTheCat-

"Why you refused to see me?" he asked to the necromancer that did not look up at him, only kept staring at the scattered bones and rotten pieces of flesh. His irritation grew higher as the silence prolonged in that sort of hidden cave. Why wasn't the necromancer replying him? He stretched the fingers of his right hand and prepared to deliver a blow, but he felt as if the magic was sucked out of him.

"Do you think that with such weak powers you can hurt me or kill me?" The hooded figured curved over a stone-made surface never lifted his eyes and barely tolerated the intrusion from such vile creature. Yet, his power could have hurt him significantly and it was by effort that he managed to restrict it. "You are nobody for me, for you are not a commander or a governor yet."

"I will become much more than that, if you will answer my questions," he said with angered voice and he was controlling his instinct to shred that arrogant dark magician in tiny, bloody pieces, but he couldn't. He had to be patient and use his visions.

"You ask already answered questions," he said with monotonous voice and kept staring at the bones and other rotten things on that stone surface. "Yet, I can tell you that she is not the key for your foolish wishes. She is not the one that will grant you the immense power you wish for."

"It cannot be that piece of filth. I know he had been taken care of and I just broke free from him and I want him dead."

"He is your source of power. Kill him in the wrong way and you will kill yourself." The necromancer slightly tilted his head up and the white, callous skin of his chin showed under the heavy hood. "I will say no more."

"I want her, though. You think that she will not bring me power, but you are wrong and you know it."

"She will bring you more insanity and she cannot be tamed. Nobody but one can face her power and, even if you are part of that one, you still cannot be compared to him."

Useless and old piece of disgusting charlatan, he thought. He knew that no more answers or advices were going to get through those dust-coloured lips, but he knew that the necromancer had more powers and some of them could be bought easily.

"I need something else from you and I am sure there is no need to explain it to you. Be aware that I will greatly compensate you. But also, I will hunt you if you refuse. You know my powers can break you in the near future."

The necromancer studied his black, long nails and then spat to the bones.

"Very well, I will listen this time only." He paused a moment and then his lips moved in a creepy smile. "But it will take time and you might not be able to wield it against her."

                                                   *****

In front of them stood a small army of forsaken Fae warriors and their cronies that obviously had tried in every way to penetrate the borders, but they found the patrols and guards serving the Lady of the Shadows ready to clash swords against them. For a moment Heletya, Kassius and Azhelo remained behind the line and simply observed the fight, curious to see where they would dare to actually hit. Then, their intent was clear when the Lady perceived a change in the mood of those offenders and she materialised her long, dark sword in her left hand. She advanced among her soldiers, who if not engaged bowed the head with great respect and almost reverential fear, Kassius and Azhelo at her sides, and she stood in front of those dark Fae warriors.

"Retreat before I kill each and every of you," she said with authoritative tone and they felt her power crushing against them, almost taking their breath away for the strength it hit them with.

Conor couldn't help staring at her in a mixture of rapture, desire and deep respect. He couldn't have betrayed her...no. She said he didn't do it directly, so what had happened for real? He feared that many answers weren't going to be found easily or soon.

But there was something strange in the way they were fighting as if possessed by some feral craziness and he looked around, seeing how the cronies, strange looking creatures that Conor could not identify, with dark or grey skin, or even pure red, long hair trashing at the wind, their eyes filled with blood-lust and their weapons and armours rather poor. They were used as baits and simply to wreak havoc and he was surprised by seeing how his instinct was kicking in.

Azhelo observed him with his second eye and registered the change in his mind and in his heart and so, after having exchanged a quick look with Kassius, he handed Conor a sword.

"You might need it, today."

"I have no idea how to use it," Conor admitted bitterly as he closed his fingers on the grip of that beautiful and shining blade.

"I believe that you will find your courage today and you will not need to worry: Kassius and I have your back. You can trust us," the powerful warrior said as he inclined his head and Conor nodded.

"I know I can."

He observed the sword and before he could think about how to wield it and how to parry an attack, he found himself confronted by one of those evil-looking creatures and so he instinctively jumped back, putting some distance between them. Damn, it really had come to this and he hated to feel fear, suffocating and almost blinding fear; he studied the enemy and his surrounding quickly, wanting to search for an escape route. He cursed his disgusting cowardice and tightened the grip on the weapon, swallowing down and forcing himself to stand straight. What was going to happen? The creature advanced and suddenly leaped on him and Conor knew he was going to be dead.

Blood of an impossible to describe colour sprayed on his face and he almost threw up when he saw the head of his opponent rolling on the ground.

"Stand like this and you will be useless, human," Kassius said and Conor noticed he wasn't fighting with any weapon, only with his fangs and claws, by now dripping of blood and much more. A wave of uncontrolled sickness hit Conor and he did throw up, sending him on his four. "It took you little, I must say. Our Lady will not be very happy and I will not be very happy...a pity, human named Conor."

He was provoking him on purpose and, as he threw up more and more, seeing more creatures being cut and killed, seeing blood, flesh, gore and more and more, feeling the acid taste of his vomit on his tongue and feeling his blood pumping faster and faster...something else broke inside of him.

He suddenly screamed with all the force he had in him and stood up as if possessed by an unknown entity. His fingers strengthened around the grip of his magnificent sword and without giving Kassius the time to say anything, he jumped over him and threw himself over two lessen creatures that had dared to challenge his Lady; his blood roared in his mind and in his veins and in two swifts blows he ended their miserable lives. Conor stared at the dark blood dripping from his blade and he felt his lips curving in a feral smile: he felt alive in a way he never felt in his entire life. A life that didn't belong to him and that wasn't meant to be real. Another creature tried to challenge him, but he grabbed the arm that held the weapon to block the attack and, while staring at its crazed eyes, he thrust his weapon into his guts.

Heletya was engaged with two Dark Fae Warriors that seemed to know how to shield from her magic, but a sudden wave of emotions coming from Conor made her turn to his direction. She stared at him fighting in a way that was still very far from what she had seen in her past years, yet, that same untamed and brutal mercenary was partially back and her lips tilted in a smile she had not worn in many long years. Her magic surged stronger and it almost roared around her and more overwhelming tendrils of dark power quickly reached those Dark Warriors: there was nothing in their powers to stop it and soon they dropped dead on the ground.

As she felt him slowly changing and embracing his real, suppressed self, her magic responded to it and somehow it demanded to be released in greater and more devastating ways. She answered to her power's call and unleashed it on her enemies that soon were left miserably lifeless on the ground. She knew they were no match for her and she knew why her magic had suddenly become wilder. He was calling to her and she was calling to him.

Her hair danced at the wind striking the battlefield and, as Heletya turned feeling his eyes burning on her neck, Conor was there. But he was Conor no longer.

"Geralh," she murmured in a whisper of pure excitement and he heard her over the noise of the fighting, because he pierced with eyes that she has never forgotten.

"My Lady," he said once more in that same tone and, after having cut down another creature that did not deserve to cross its worthless sword with his, he walked to her and then let the edge of the blade slowly caress the nude skin of her left, pale arm. She shivered at the feeling of the metal on her skin and he stepped closer. "Heletya," he called her with different voice, with his real voice and went to touch her face, but something stopped him suddenly and before any of them could understand what was happening, Geralh was on his knees and clutching his head as he screamed in pure pain.

She turned and saw that demonic creature daring to almost cross the line of her borders; four guards went to attack him but they were swiftly and mercilessly killed. Heletya quickly gazed at Geralh still fighting against the excruciating pain that had suddenly invaded his mind and body, and felt dangerous ire coursing in her veins that she used to throw tendrils of her power to the evil being that had dared to hurt her mercenary. The surge of magic hit him completely and threw him far away, but he stood up and advanced more.

The pain was almost driving him insane and he didn't know what to do stop it, not remembering what and who he was any longer. Was he Conor, the wrecked and weak human being or was he Geralh, the fierce and most dangerous warriors and lord of all mercenaries? Who the hell was he? His body collapsed on the ground as the pain was almost suffocating him, feeling like an unyielding grip around his throat that he couldn't fight. Why was this happening to him? He didn't want to grovel on the ground like some vermin.

"You are not strong enough and your real powers are fighting, so feel lucky you are still alive," Kassius told him as he crouched to his side and swept his longer, silver-coloured hair away from his face. "He is using a necromancer and that is hurting you. Fight it, Conor. Fight it, Geralh. You are the same and you cannot lose yourself. Our Lady needs you."

Those last four words resonated in Geralh's mind and strongly clawed his heart, suddenly chasing the mist away from his mind. He was still confused and he still remembered almost nothing, but he lifted his eyes to Kassius and gave him a wolfish smile.

"You never cease to preach, Kassius," he breathed out still in pain and then forced himself to stand on his feet, commanding his body to reject the pain. He felt a touch of magic caressing his skin and he knew it came from Kassius: so, this also was part of his real power.

"This and more. You were right to fear me, human being," he teased with a half smile.

"I am no more a weak human being."

Azhelo stood at their side and studied Heletya and the evil Conor stalking her. They were staring at each other, ready to tear their throats in shreds, but she resented more than she could express the fact she did not possess the power to destroy him.

He tried to charge by letting his power assaulting her, but it was blown away without effort. She was so powerful and she was to lose his never-existing sanity for how beautiful she was. Her magic had become wilder and more violent and he knew it had to do with that useless human being's awakening. He had to stop it before it was too late. Through his mind, he told the necromancer to hit that miserable human harder, before he could regain more power, but that piece of trash did not falter and did not drop on the ground: how was that possible? His eyes searched and found another beautiful, male figure standing behind that pathetic human. Anger invaded him as he realised that Kassius was the one shielding the human from the necromancer, but...his eyes widened and a savage scream left his throat.

That was no human and those eyes were not the same pathetic and miserable, cowardice-filled eyes that stared back at him with fear in the mirror.

"You dared to wake up and come back...I will not let you," he went to throw himself to Geralh, but Heletya stopped him by clashing her sword with his and by letting her dark tendrils wrapping around his throat, wanting to suffocate him. But he resisted and they exchanged blows after blows, until Azhelo also intervened, but as the evil Conor tried to hit her with his growing and new power, that creature that used to be a human being swiftly shielded her and pointed his sword at him.

"I will kill you and then it will be over."

"It will never be over, because if you kill me in the wrong way, you also follow me to the other world, and it will not be a pleasant journey," he sneered at him.

Heletya froze at those words and comprehended their truth. But she could not react faster as Geralh purposely threw himself against the blade of his evil part, letting it penetrate his flesh, blood spilling out from the fresh and deep wound.

"Geralh!" Heletya screamed as she unleashed more of her dark and devastating magic on that demon.

The demonic Conor-looking creature first looked at him and then exploded in a vicious and maddened laugh, seeing the fool dropping on his knees, clutching his side, but it was cut by the sudden thrust of a blade he did not expect or felt coming. They all halted and froze on the spot. The once human being raised his head, those burning eyes staring at him with arrogance and hatred, and the sword was thrust deeper into his guts, slashing his inner organs and flesh, thrusting harder until it pierced him from part to part. His hands shook violently and grabbed the blade that was then viciously pulled back, shredding the skin on his palms. His eyes stared almost lifeless at his blood-stained hands and he collapsed on his knees, still looking at his own blood, yet feeling no pain.

"I am not dead," he managed to hiss out with great effort as more blood gushed out of his fatal wound, as a strange cold wild seemed to wrap around his weakening body, his power lessening more and more, almost remaining in its useless embers.

"I'm aware I cannot kill you," Geralh growled at him. "Not yet."