How did it even start,
This fight?
The Sage of Holy Wind
Can’t really say,
she never can.
As always she is drawn
By the Wind’s beckoning call.
Drawn by whispered words
Of the Flashing Light’s fight
And her devilish foe.
That’s all she needs.
On those same gusts
She rushes
As she can
To the Light’s side.
A sudden guest
In the grueling conflict
She alarms them both,
The foe and the knight.
With a curse from both
And a grin from her
The combat continues
With desperation.
The foe has six arms
And three faces
All on one head,
A dreadful asura.
He swings six swords
With fiendish speed
And sings a song
Of hate that cuts deep
into the earth
Tearing it from her feet,
The King’s Blade.
She leaps up
Taking to the air
And calls down lights
That crash
With all the fury of thunder
Sped on by her own song
And Hope’s dire will.
Hope to protect.
Hope to save.
Hope to destroy.
His shout shakes the light
From the skies
And he lunges forth,
A dance of blades
Seeking gore and more.
His speed is great
But greater still
Is the Wind’s.
A gusting wave pushes him
Back and down.
He is thrown from the air,
The Fate Spinning Winds’ domain.
Grinning the Blade dives
Down and down
With righteous fury
And the blue glow
Of purest Light’s intent.
The ****** is sure, strong
And cracks like thunder.
The raging storm
Of Grimm’s good servant,
The Light’s own sage.
There is more to him
Than shouts and swords
And six arms though.
There’s a lack of care
And a burning hatred
For all the King’s men.
Many would run
Or raise up a shield
Guarding themselves from death.
But he welcomes it
Letting the blade run deep,
Piercing him through
and mortally so.
Then he catches the arm
That wielded the blade
And pulls down the Blade.
The fight seems over and done
From the Holy Wind’s high place
Her home, the air,
But a screech rings out.
Four devious daggers
Made of Darkness
Claim the King’s Blade,
Rending her flesh
And digging in deadly.
She is tossed aside
Like a toy
Bleeding and cursing
And ******.
The asura ****** too
Rises up
Rage incarnate
Blind and dumb
And unrelenting
To finish his job.
He raises up
An arm and then another
Before the shocked sage
Buffets him with a wind.
Tossed he turns
Terrific rage building more
And directs it at her,
The sage unbelieving.
Like a shock of silver
Cold and quick
To the gut and the heart
Is the fear mounting.
Fear for her,
Fear of loss
Of a friend, a lover dear,
Known for a thousands years
And hopefully a thousand more.
The Wind’s sing of necessity
And Fate.
Of life and death,
An air of change,
Unyielding in its march.
The tune is so welcome
Normally,
Though it seems so cruel.
Now it is dreaded,
Disbelieved.
Now it makes her pause,
Turning to look
Searching for life
In her partner dear.
Finding that hesitation
The asura jumps up high
Blades ready
And burning with demon fire,
But his arms are pulled back
And he is pulled down
By deep red chains
Of crimson fluidity,
Of blood.
They coil and cut
Like blades
Slicing an arm free
Then two, then three,
But he breaks free
Shrugging off bonds
With a scream.
From the floor she rises
The Flashing Light
Eyes aflame
With red fury
Brilliant and ominous
As the Red Moon.
From the Flashing Light spills
Blood like a torrent
Shaped into swords
As would the Light be.
The sound of his chant
Is cut short
By a wave of dark
Butterflies fluttering from her.
The sound of her chant
Rings out
Sending forth a wave
Of blood made blades.
Skewering, rending
Utterly ending the foe.
She rises a victor
Dripping blood,
And her wounds close
Fed blood.
She rises a vampire revealed
And fear falls
In the Holy Wind’s Heart.
Prompt was "fear".
