Spirit Heart: Rise of the Fallen Chapter 13

Chapter 131

Unholy Passion2

Deep in thought, Anra was. He was meditating, really. Thinking about his next move. He had arrived in the Peninsula of Hope, and was very close to his goal. His fingers trembled at the very thought of the power he would soon attain. 3

He looked around him at the countryside. It was the middle of the night, but one could still even sense the tranquility of the Helian’s homeland. The name was coined because of the long journey through the land of fire the Helians endured to reach this place. Haven Lake, a place in the very heart of the Land of Fire, was also named by them, as it was the only water source in the accursed land.4

The Peninsula of Hope sickened Anra. The fragrance of flowers was eminent, and the breeze was warm, even in the time of the Frosthand. It wasn’t the smell or warmth that was his malady, rather the sense of piety that hung in the air. These Helians were firm believers in the Allmighty, and highly faithful to him. If only they knew what Anra knew.5

Even the thought of this knowledge caused anger to swell within him. Anra knew much of Spiritheart. He knew that even though they claimed to stand for justice and righteousness, they were demons in their own respect. They had power, and were afraid to lose it. Anra knew this firsthand. 6

A tear trickled down his cheek. Not a tear of sadness, or remorse, however. It was a tear of pure hatred. He would destroy Spiritheart and expose them for the deceitful cretins they were, and that is why he needed Isis’s whip.7

“Isis.” Even the thought of the name brought back a rush of memories. Memories of his beloved Isis, memories of their love, and their power. He should have known. Should have known that the so-called ‘angels’ of Spiritheart would be afraid of them. They feared the prowess and strength that he and Isis shared. The duo was a lone army on the battlefield. Together, they had led Spiritheart and Valmera to a glorious age of prosperity. 8

And how were they repaid? With a knife in their backs. Or more accurately, an arrow in Isis’s. The world seemed to melt away as Anra relived that battle. It must have been about three hundred years ago.9

They barely survived the first attack; where he and Isis were told to take command of squad of troops and exterminate a group of evil dark wizards. There were no evil wizards. Instead, the troops that had accompanied them turned to attack them. Anra and Isis managed to survive, and Kairus joined them as soon as he heard about the attack.10

They then fled Spiritheart’s forces. They must have been on the run for months, assassins and foes all around. They soon became paranoid, as Spiritheart’s attempts on their lives became more persistent. They knew they couldn’t last forever, but they didn’t have a choice. If they stopped for even a moment, it would mean their lives.11

And then that fateful battle came. They had been chased to the Peninsula of Hope, and an ambush lay waiting for them. The three rebels fought as hard as they could, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough. Isis never walked away from that battle, and a temple had been built on top of her remains.12

In that temple lay her whip, her main weapon. Isis was a powerful dark wizard, even more powerful than Anra himself. Her spirit lay in that whip, and if he possessed it, he would have her awesome power. With it, he could raise himself up to Spiritheart, and lay waste to it with his power. Soon enough.13

A warm breeze brushed his cheek, though to him it felt like Isis’s hand caressing his face. His hand touched hers, and he swore he could feel her. She seemed just as real as the night, or the ground. Yet, when he looked up to see her, there was nothing. Just a warm breeze that had brushed his cheek.14

“I’ll avenge you,” Anra vowed silently to himself. “Every drop of blood I spill will be a testament to the injustice of these pigs. I swear, I’ll make them scream so loud, that even you can enjoy it.”15

Anra stood up. The temple was still two villages down the road. He might as well have a little fun with the first one. He spread his leathery wings and flew into the night to punish the pious Helians. Their foolish faith would not save them from his blade.16

He reached the village quickly, and was met by fifty villagers. Among them were men, boys, even women, all of them wielding long staves. It was well known that Helians were a peaceful people, and never wielded actual weapons in battle.17

“Stay back demon!” a rather strong-looking one shouted. “Or we will smite you in the holy name of the Allmighty!”18

Anra simply stood there and listened to their stupidity. He then raised his hand, and picked the Helian man up with sheer energy, no spell was cast. The other Helians backed up in fear as Anra moved the paralyzed man towards him.19

Anra brought him close, face to face. The man simply scowled in pious defiance. Then, Anra said “Torwetch,” and the man screamed in terrible agony. A vicious grin grew on Anra’s face as he shouted at the screaming man, “Where is you Allmighty now!?” Anra then took his bare hand, talons sharpened to dagger-like points, and plunged it into the man’s chest, pulled out his heart, then threw it to the ground.20

The people screamed in fear, and some ran forward to attack the dark wizard. Anra faced them and shouted “Shurux!” and dark, shadowy tendrils stretched from his fingers, and whipped the doomed Helians. They desperately blocked with their staves, but Anra simply pushed his hand forward, and the shadows shot forward, impaling four warriors. He then picked them up with the same spell, and tossed them into the crowd.21

More warriors ran to meet him, and Anra drew his sword. They would make feeble attacks, and he would simply block and slash, whirling around, hacking off limbs and heads, as everything around him became drenched in blood.22

A young Helian wizard cast a powerful light spell at him, but her magic stood no chance. A ray of holy light appeared around Anra, he merely looked up at the ray and said “Drurgar” and an eerie darkness closed in on the area, and the Helian woman’s eyes widened in fear. Black appeared in the sky, and then black drops of rain poured from them. Whenever a drop touched the flesh of the pious warriors, their skin sizzled as the dark rain burned them alive.23

Anra sauntered up to the female wizard as she screamed in pain. She clawed at her face and body, doing anything to stop the torture. Anra simply walked up to her, and slowly dragged a claw across her collarbone, as she stood, immobilized by fear. He put his beak up to the gash, and slowly drank the sweet nectar that seeped forth. The woman looked up at him, still burning, as she tried to scream, to give voice to the suffering and fear she was experiencing. Anra took his sword, and in one powerful slash, cut her head off.24

The other warriors were rolling on the ground in pain, as their cries of agony rang out, a dark symphony to Anra’s ears. He went to each one, and stabbed them, one by one, until all of the warriors, men, boys, even women, lay dead.25

He then proceeded on to the village itself, and began to burn it to the ground with a black fire. Children ran in the streets, tears streaming down their faces as they ran in fear and sorrow. Anra cast his dark hand, and whipped or impaled every young face he met. 26

“All for you,” he thought. “All for you, my love. Isis.”27

When the village was safely burned to the ground, he went to a woman’s corpse, and sunk his demonic blade into their flesh. He focused the sword’s power, and it began to glow a blood red. He sapped the soul of the woman from her lifeless body, and the sword devoured it. He did this for each corpse in the village, until there was truly not a soul to be found.28

Anra smiled. He could feel the power coursing through him. These souls were of good quality. Pure, righteous, and compassionate were the people of this village. It felt as if he could taste their sorrow and pain, seemed as if he could smell their terror in the very air. He relished that feeling.29

He closed his eyes and focused. He could hear their last thoughts. Many of them were prayers to the Allmighty, asking him to deliver them from the terrible evil. Anra smiled when he heard this. He knew their prayers fell on deaf ears.30

He focused on the female wizard. He imagined her thoughts would be very interesting to hear.31

Her voice came to Anra now, clear as a bell. The first thoughts he heard had occurred when he had tortured the defiant man.32

“Dear Allmighty,” the woman had thought, “please, help my husband! Take me instead, but not him! Please!” she cried in futility.33

The next came when Anra had impaled the other warriors. “Oh, no. Dear Lord, help us! Save us, please! We need you!” Anra smiled at this thought. 34

Then he heard the woman’s thoughts when he made the dark rain. “What is happening? Help me...” then her thoughts had been replaced with her screams. 35

The last thoughts were when he walked up to her. “No Lord, please, help me. Help anyone. We need you.” 36

Then her last thought was when he drank her sweet blood. “Why have you forsaken us?”37

“Forsaken?” Anra thought. “He was never there to begin with.”38

Anra then walked to the center of the village. There was an altar dedicated to the Allmighty. Upon it were offerings and other relics. Anra kicked the table over, sending everything scattering. He sank his blade into the white stone below the altar, and the platform cracked easily. He focused all of his dark power, and Reaver’s dark energies as well. A cold wind blew around him, and the sky turned a moonless, starless black. 39

Then, a black structure pierced the white stone, and heaved up the earth. The structure was pointed, like the top of a tower. Anra knew this was only the beginning.40

“The first Spire,” he thought. “All for you. All for you, my love. Isis.” 41