Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 65: Mark Of The Plant Part Two

Artemis and I lock eyes a silent understanding passing between us, sharp and wordless. There's no time for our plan to work, no space for fear. The moment the killer - Weed, I decide, because calling him anything else gives him too much dignity the disgusting parasite of a man, waves us forward, the hallway erupts into chaos.

Artemis lunges left, her feline form blurring in a rush of claws and muscle, her movements faster then I could track accurately. I dart right, sword low, every nerve alive with tension. We move together, circling, weaving in and out, searching for any opening in the shifting wall of roots and vines. Kaizen remains unseen, hidden by Elijah's hand, the two of them pressed back in the shadows, waiting for their moment.

Weed is fast. Too fast. He glides between our attacks, that monstrous plant-sword carving sickly arcs through the air. Every time Artemis slashes, vines snap up to meet her claws, thorns sparking against her nails. I press in, sword feinting high then low, but his blade meets mine with a wet, rubbery thunk each impact bruising my bones, the sword's edge bristling with barbs and oozing that caustic green sap.

He's toying with us. It's obvious in the way he leaves little gaps in his defense, daring us to take the bait. Every time we strike, he counters with an effortless brutality that makes my blood run hot with anger.

A cluster of vines snap out, forcing me to roll to the side. Artemis leaps over them, twisting in midair, but Weed is already there, sword hissing, the tip barely missing her throat. I lunge, driving my blade toward his exposed ribs, but he ignores me, lets the blow glance off a bark-like growth on his side, and brings his sword around in a vicious counter.

Our blades meet with a wet, meaty thunk, and suddenly green sap splatters across my robe. I barely have a moment to process before the spot begins to steam, then sizzle the poison eating through the fabric like fire. "Shit!" I hiss, unlatching the robe and yanking it off, tossing it aside in disgust. The spot where it touched my skin tingles, angry and raw, but not deep enough to scar. I glare at Weed, hate burning behind my eyes.

He's laughing again, the sound echoing off the ruined walls, his teal eyes alive with the arrogance of someone who's never tasted defeat. "You little worms are better than I expected," he taunts, waving his sword like a conductor leading a symphony. "But it's still hopeless."

Artemis and I circle him again, eyeing his stance, calculating. We rush him at the same instant her claws going for his mask, my sword for his legs. He blocks both, plant-blade moving with disturbing speed, then sweeps his free hand. Roots explode up from the tiles, catching my ankle and yanking me off-balance. I slash them away, but more coil around my arm, burning and squeezing.

For every attack we launch, three more come back at us. The struggle is relentless, each exchange more punishing than the last. It's brutal almost beautiful, in its own horrific way. Weed is chuckling beneath his mask, savoring every second. He pauses just long enough to gloat, his mask tilting in a parody of curiosity. "You know, by culling so many of your empire's first years, I've done my organization a great favor. I should get a raise for this."

I spit, rolling my shoulder as I break another root's grip. "What organization?" I snarl, stalling for breath, for time, for hope.

He tilts his head, mask cocked in mock consideration. "I suppose it doesn't matter if I tell you. You'll be dead soon, boy." The plants around him ripple in anticipation, and his eyes glitter behind the mask. "Have you heard of the Midnight Rose?"

The name hits me like a punch. I remember Bishop Lark's warning his voice enraged, eyes haunted telling me about a group that leaves no witnesses, that delights in blood and terror. Now I know why. It's not just an anti Empire ideology. The people in this organization are just fucking insane.

Weed shrugs, almost casual. "Enough chit-chat. I've held back because it was funny, but now? You die. My time's running out anyway."

His words barely register before the world erupts. The plants surge, a tidal wave of green and crimson, barbed whips lashing out at me from all directions. He launches himself at me, blade aimed for my neck. I'm not fast enough my arms are still being held by his damn vines. Artemis dives between us, her claws catching the blade and flicking it away. The force knocks her back, but she manages to twist, landing hard and bouncing to her feet. Weed growls, annoyed, and drives a vicious kick into her ribs, sending her crashing into the wall. She grunts in pain, but she's already moving again, eyes narrowed, teeth bared.

I'm still caught in a snarl of roots, hacking and slicing as more try to drag me down. It feels like the plants have a mind of their own each vine learning, adapting, tightening its grip. For every one I sever, another takes its place, relentless and cold.

Weed's attention snaps back to me, teal eyes burning with delight. "Not bad," he admits, almost conversational. "But you're not nearly good enough boy, what a pity." He gestures, and the plants constrict, thorns digging into my skin, pain flaring white-hot. I grit my teeth, refusing to scream.

This man is stronger than Cain, I realize, a chill running through me. Cain was skill and finesse. His power honed to complement his mastery of the sword. Weed is different every inch of the world around him is a weapon, alive and hungry for blood. If he wanted us dead from the start, we would be. The only reason we're still breathing is because he's enjoying it but his entertainment seemed to be coming to an end.

Vines constrict my arms and chest, pinning me to the filthy, root-choked floor. Each time I hack one away, three more snake around my limbs, squeezing until my bones creak. I can barely see past the writhing green and the pain throbbing in my shoulders, but I force myself to keep my eyes on the scene unfolding just a few meters away.

Weed stalks in front of Artemis, who's slumped against the wall again, not sure how that happened. She tries to rise, but a lattice of roots pins her arms and legs, more winding over her chest, squeezing the fight out of her. I see blood dribbling from her mouth, her eyes wide with fury and terror. Weed doesn't even glance at me as he approaches her.

His plants writhe around his body, weaving into plates of armor, bark growing and hardening until he looks less like a man and more like a monster. His mask is lost beneath the tangle, only those teal eyes burning with delight in the shadows.

Disgust churns in my gut. I try to wrench my sword arm free, but the vines squeeze tighter, biting into my skin. My breath comes in short, panicked bursts. I can't win like this. I can't even move. So I let them out the voices. I stop fighting. I let my hate feed them and darkness floods in. The voices hiss in outrage and hungry anticipation, their presence swelling inside my skull. Yes, yes, they croon. Finally you take it seriously 

With the last scrap of will, I rip my arm free, the skin tearing, blood slicking my fingers. I seize my sword, hacking at the vines until I'm loose enough to stagger upright.

Weed stands over Artemis, roots snaking around her throat, her mouth forced open by a fist of green. I scream, a raw, animal sound that echoes through the corridor. Weed turns, vines twitching, and in that heartbeat I squeeze the air in my fist.

The voices obey with glee. My illusions spill out, overwhelming his world in a tide of unreality. I watch with satisfaction as Weed's body jerks, his eyes going glassy as he fights to regain control of what's real and not. He freezes, caught between one moment and the next, trapped in the hell I've built for him. But it changes nothing the vines keep moving, keep tightening their grip on Artemis. They're extensions of his will, yes, but they don't need him to command them 24/7 which is what made him so impossible to fight.

She tries to scream, but the roots crawl into her mouth, cutting off the sound. Her yellow eyes lock on mine, wide and pleading, and something cold and hateful fills me so completely I can barely breathe. I want to help her. I want to save her. But I can't. I cant.

I look down the hall, toward where Kaizen and Elijah should be crouched, hidden by Elijah's mark. My voice rips out of me, raw and savage: "FIRE ON HIM! NOW! USE YOUR MARK OR I SWEAR TO THE GODS I'LL KILL YOU MYSELF!"

The invisibility drops. Elijah and Kaizen stare at me, eyes wide Elijah with guilt written in every line of his face as he realizes whats to happen, Kaizen however looked at me with open terror. For a moment, neither moves. Artemis's body convulses, roots choking the life out of her.

Kaizen stammers, voice breaking. "But Artemis—she's still—"

I'm on him in an instant, my hand twisting in his shirt, dragging him close so he can see the hate and anger blazing in my eyes. "She's lost! I can't get through those plants and keep my illusions strong enough to hold him. If we can't give her salvation, then vengeance will suffice."

He's crying now, tears streaming down his face, his whole body shaking. Elijah looks away, jaw clenched, hands balled into fists. For a long, horrible moment, Kaizen just chokes on tears, his lips moving in silent prayer. Then, through the tears, he croaks, "Fire... bomb."

He thrusts his hands forward. For a heartbeat, nothing happens. Then a torrent of flame erupts from his palms, roaring down the hallway in a wave of blistering heat. The fire engulfs the roots, the walls, Weed's monstrous form, and Artemis burning away everything. The plants writhe and shriek, the sound not quite human, not quite animal, but something worse. The stench of burning sap, flesh, and smoke fills the air, thick and choking.

The voices in my head shriek their approval, a chorus of triumph and madness. WELL DONE, they howl. He'll disappear into nothingness like he deserves!

Elijah stands to the side, his head bowed, sadness etched deep in the lines of his face. Kaizen collapses to the floor, sobbing openly now, his hands shaking so badly he can't wipe the tears away. The fire's light flickers on the wet streaks down his cheeks. He looks up at me through the haze, eyes red and distraught.

We stand in a stunned, ragged group, watching the flames consume everything. The fire roars down the corridor, a living wall of orange and red, eating away the vines, the roots, the monstrous corpse of Weed. Smoke stings my eyes, but I don't look away. Kaizen is standing tears still streaking his soot-stained face. Elijah stands beside me, fists clenched, jaw tight, staring hollow-eyed into the inferno. There is nothing left to say. The only sound is the crackle of burning sap and the haunted, animal keening of a soul that's lost too much. I feel nothing but the icy satisfaction of a job finished, a threat ended.

And then out of nowhere a voice, impossibly loud and resounding, cuts through the smoke and carnage. "Fantastic! How glorious!"

The world fractures. The fire vanishes. The ruined hallway ripples and like a curtain yanked away reality shatters.

One moment I'm staring at flames exhausted and injured, the next I'm sitting in a wide, high-ceilinged room, unharmed and refreshed, confusion pressing in on every side. I blink, heart pounding, and realize Elijah and Kaizen are beside me, Artemis too, whole and unharmed, her golden eyes wide with shock. Around us sits another group of about twenty students, all wearing the same slack-jawed confusion, their uniforms pristine, faces unbloodied.

My attention is wrenched toward the front of the room, where a long desk sits atop a shallow dais. Behind it, twelve proctors in their formal robes sit in judgment. In the center, Evanora stands, her hands coming together in a slow, deliberate clap. Her smile is pleased, pink eyes glittering with amusement and something darker.

"Wonderful performance, dear children," she purrs, her voice echoing in the sudden silence. "You overperformed our expectations, honestly."

Horror dawns in my chest, cold and spreading. I lurch to my feet. "What are you talking about?" My voice is a hoarse.

Evanora's smile only widens, predatory and pleased. "Why, Awakened Daath, that was the test, obviously." She laughs, light and musical, but there's nothing warm in it. "Your memories leading up to this point will return soon, don't worry. But did you really think you were the only illusion-mark bearer in this country?"

A chill runs down my spine as the other proctors join in her laughter, the sound echoing off the heigh ceilings. The truth clicks into place, and the weight of it settles over me, suffocating and inescapable. I am not the only monster who can blur the line between reality and nightmare.