The Elements of Zion: the Vine, the Branch, and the Thorn

Chapter 11 Dragon Lies

Suddenly, the peaceful desert erupted into a nightmare as Thorns started bursting forth from the sands. Trose and I were caught off guard, each swallowed by a chaotic wave of darkness. I tried to reach Trose, desperation fueling my steps, but was blocked at every turn, each Thorn more monstrous than the last. With no other option, I drew The Flame from its sheath, its cold steel offering a grim comfort. My heart pounded in my chest like a desperate drum as I found myself back against the raging tide, the quiet peace of just moments ago shattered by the brutal reality of the battle.

Wielding The Flame with determination, I plunged into the thicket of Thorns, slashing and cutting my way through. The heat of the desert was forgotten in the icy fear that gripped me, but I fought on, each stroke of my sword a desperate plea for survival. Suddenly, an acute sense of danger snapped me from my frenzy and I yanked the shield from my back, raising it just in time to block a vicious strike aimed at my heart. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through me, but the shield held firm, its metal surface gleaming with a defiance that echoed my own.

Just when I thought I was gaining ground, I glanced upwards. My heart sank with dread as I saw an infinite stretch of Thorns crawling out from the ground. The sight was overwhelming, a monstrous tide that seemed to go on forever. Trose was nowhere to be seen, swallowed by this sea of darkness. Panic welled up within me, a cold, hollow feeling that threatened to engulf me. The Flame felt heavy in my hand, its once comforting solidity now a grim reminder of the odds stacked against me.

Then, amidst the clamor of battle and the roar of the Thorns, a voice pierced through the din, a voice that froze my blood and made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Her tone chillingly calm, her words a sinuous whisper that slithered its way through the chaos. "Oh, my dear Issac," she crooned, her laughter echoing like a peal of thunder, "did you really believe the Destroyer was the true threat? How quaint. He was merely a distraction, a weak prelude to the true terror yet to come.". 

Her mocking voice punctuated the clamor of the raging battle, her taunts echoing in my ears as I struggled against the sea of Thorns. Now and then, I would catch a glimpse of her, a wraithlike figure flitting amongst the chaos, her laughter like ice shards against my skin. I pressed on, every swing of The Flame fueled by a furious determination. As I lunged at what I thought was the next Thorn, I was met with an unexpected resistance. The sound of metal clashing against metal reverberated through the air, a harsh reminder of my miscalculation. As the dust cleared, my heart pounded in my chest with sickening realization. It was not a Thorn that I had tried to strike, but the scythe of Briah herself.

And there she stood, just like the first time I beheld her captivating yet awe-inspiring presence of mortality and devastation. The realization hit me like a punch to the stomach - I was face-to-face with my executioner once more. The chaos of battle seemed to silence around us, every Thorn, every roar fading into insignificance. It was only the two of us, her and I.

A cruel smile twisted Briah's lips as her gaze fell upon my armor, "Oh, look at you," she sneered, her voice dripping with venom, "Are we now transformed? And, adorned with the armor of The Vine. How truly heroic." Her laughter rang out again, a discordant symphony that danced upon the wind.

I could feel a surge of power as Briah began to gather her strength, a palpable force that made my sword tremble in my grip. Her scythe, once like a sliver of moonlight against the dark desert sands, began to grow. It grew larger and more menacing, intensifying until it was blinding, a beacon of death in the chaos of the battle. Then, her eyes, filled with a cruel glee, met mine again.

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, 'let's see how you handle this,' and then she screamed out, her voice a searing wind that seemed to cut through the sounds of the battlefield. "Oh, Issac!" She cried, pointing her scythe at me as if it was an extension of her finger. "I am going to enjoy burning you in the fire this time! Your screams will be a sweet melody to my ears!" The cruel pleasure in her voice was unmistakable, and a chill ran down my spine. I tightened my grip on The Flame, determined to stand my ground.