CHAPTER 3: Unburning

Iseriel somehow saw in her mind's eye the scene sprawled before her. The trees would fall back to a cliff at the edge of a chasm with frothing white rapids angrily rushing below; the other bank a long stone's throw away, beyond the ability of any human to leap.

But Iseriel is not a human, not completely. She pumped her legs and sped up to a fast sprint and leaped.

Iseriel felt like she was flying for the first time since she was free. The last time she did this was way back in Todranara. In her home. A lifetime ago. She doubted if she will ever get to see the great tree again.

The expanse was so wide she suspected for a second if even she could make it. The leap was a long shot, even for an Alwyn like herself.

Arrows flew past her but luckily none hit their mark. Halfway through the flight, she allowed herself a sigh of relief as her instincts confirmed she made the right decision.

She landed on the faraway cliff with a roll. Upon standing, she briefly saw the dismayed faces of her pursuers and the two Celurian Hounds – huge dogs the size of cattle – as they emerged from the woods and almost fell to the chasm. She smiled at her accomplishment.

As the hounds were barking aggressively and the snipers were rearming their bolts, Iseriel felt the wind shift. It blew in the opposite direction. Then a dark figure dropped from the sky, emerging from the canopy of the trees behind her pursuers, and casually flew across the chasm. Not jumped. Flew. The figure stood upright on what seemed to be invisible clouds propelled by the wind itself.

Iseriel immediately turned to run, feeling her blood turn to ice in fear. And then pain. Searing pain.

Iseriel cried out as she felt her back burn and she was thrown off the ground. She twisted midair to protect her belly and landed on her side, feeling more pain as her right shoulder smacked against the hard ground.

The Unburning Flame.

Unbearable pain coursed through her entire body. Her eyes watered and her throat was easily hoarse from crying. Splayed helpless on her side, Iseriel's right shoulder was dislocated. The fall had shocked her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. More than that, the skin on her back felt like it was peeled, salted, and then set aflame.

Lying awkwardly on her side, Iseriel finally had a good glimpse of her attacker.

"I'm sorry about this, love." The floating figure's coarse and squeaky voice sounded anything but. It was filled with malice and menace. A sadistic kind of voice that haunted prisoners during torture.

King Seffer Merleon landed at the edge of the cliff and casually walked towards her, royal cape billowing wildly in the wind against a scrawny physique. His appearance betrayed the aura he projected. The king was a rather small man. If not for the regal garb and the magic he displayed, he could easily be mistaken as an overage squire.

He held his staff pointing downward, like he would a sword in brief respite, its red gem on top still glowing from that last attack.

"But I believe you owe your master an explanation." He raised the scepter and held it with both hands before him then pulled it apart. A smooth and gleaming blade unsheathed from the rod.

Words eluded her. She could only wheeze and cry in pain as she struggled to even sit up. Every movement sent shockwaves of sharp pain on her back. Fear. Pain. Agony. So this is how it feels like. Mother.

Iseriel looked upon the King's hard pitiless blue eyes. Her owner. Her master. All those years of sexual abuse. Plastered on his face was his signature sneer and his eyes shone with a menace usually flaunted by predators who have finally cornered their prey.

Or rather, a gecko who is about to spring its tongue at a hapless insect. His eyes were unnaturally large. His hooked nose bent the wrong way and his scarred lips could still be gleaned despite the thick but neatly-trimmed mustache.

The king raised his sword and the crystal that not served as its pommel brightened to an angry red. Iseriel's eyes widened with fear at the sight of that evil glow.

Having been hit by the Unburning Flame earlier, she knew she would not last long. She scrambled on the ground, frantic, trying to crawl away. It was hopeless.

Her entire body stiffened as she braced for the inescapable strike.

Which did not come.

When she turned to look at the king, she saw Seffer Merleon seemingly frozen in time – sword held aloft, crystal glowing from the magic he was about to unleash, jaws and muscles straining, eyes panicking – unable to move.

"She's under my household, Merleon." Iseriel heard the familiar deep voice of a seven-foot-tall burly man floating high in the air by the chasm that separated Iseriel and the king, and the soldiers and the hounds. A more imposing figure. Far more regal. Far more authoritative.

"I will take her." Iseriel could only make out his silhouette that high against the sky but she could recognize his voice anywhere. It became even more apparent as the man descended. His resplendent robes and cloak flapped in the winter wind but his stern gaze told Iseriel those were minor inconveniences.

His right hand held a six-foot golden staff that had several gems embedded along its length and was topped by a large white crystal. This white crystal glowed ever so slightly, a subtle indication that it was what held King Seffer Merleon immobilized.

"Your Imperial Highness!" the soldiers gasped from the other cliff. Even the hounds stopped barking. Before them was a remarkably handsome man. His swept blonde hair was kept in place by a thin but magnificently crafted crown. A well-trimmed beard covered his face that added to the allure of his masculinity. Iseriel loved this man.

He landed next to the restrained king. Then his gaze met hers. Those brilliant green eyes seemed to pierce through her. And to her alarm, she found her body uncooperative as well. Her limbs refused to move and she found she was holding her breath. When she tried to breathe, her lungs refused to cooperate. Even her lips could only tremble at her futile attempt to talk.

Tears welled in her eyes as she knew her end had come.

The Emperor of the Obsidian Empire himself is here for a lowly slave of a faraway kingdom. Not to save her. But to finish her off.