Niyx

through the Den with all the fury of a blizzard. Snow fell inside the Den and a frigid magical wind blinded the assassins as they ran. Then, as the last assassin fell bloodless at Niyx’s feet, a strange quiet fell over the Den.
The snowstorm Niyx had summoned subsided as he and Kiril looked around for any assassins who might have escaped. Onyx glanced up at the Lord’s balcony. There, shaking with rage and with murder in his reddened eyes, stood the Lord of the Divide. He had watched his entire order fall before him without even lifting a finger. Was he afraid of Niyx?
Niyx followed Onyx’s gaze and scowled at the Lord of the Divide. “Come down here, and face the justice you deserve. Or are you a coward?”
For a moment, it looked like the Lord actually considered coming down to confront them. Instead, he turned and bolted only to run straight into a long gleaming sword. The silver of the blade shimmered through the blood that darkened it. The Lord made a guttural sound of shock before blood poured from his mouth. The sword lifted him up and over the edge of the balcony. The sword’s owner appeared from the shadows; a tall elf, wearing black leather armor with long hair that shone the same silver as his long blade. His eyes were lit by an unnatural blue-green. The stranger held the Lord of the Divide there, skewered on the sword, until the Lord twitched and breathed his last. Then, unceremoniously, the blade lowered, and the corpse slid off to land with a bloody thud on the floor before them.
Disbelief made him numb. The Lord of the Divide had embodied all of Onyx’s fear from childhood. Onyx had tried to kill him and failed painfully many times. The entire world had feared the Lord of the Divide and his dark magic. He felt disturbed and confused that someone so powerful had fallen so easily. Onyx stumbled over to make sure the corpse was indeed the Lord of the Divide. Onyx tore his gaze away from the corpse to glance back at the balcony. The killer had vanished like a ghost. “Who was that?” Onyx asked as his gaze wandered to Niyx.
Niyx had his head tilted like a curious bird. “You have not met him? That was our sire. Sephyrn.”
Onyx’s gaze darted back to the balcony in disbelief. He knew precious little about his father. He had searched but found no trace of Sephyrn. He had started to think Sephyrn was just a myth. The members of The Divide had teased Onyx like he was the spawn of a demon and the Lord had treated him even worse once they had found out. Sephyrn was the only assassin on their world that the Lord had not forced into working for the Divide. The attempt to capture Sephyrn had ended in such a disaster that the Lord had forbidden anyone to speak of it again. Only one assassin had returned, a victim of grotesque and violent torture. The butcher of Dakaal had a reputation for being the nastiest killer their world had ever seen. The only time Onyx had seen fear in the Lord’s eyes was at the mention of Sephyrn. Now Onyx understood why. Sephyrn could have come to claim Onyx at any time and the Divide would have been powerless to stop him. Onyx tensed, clenching his fists, anger overriding most of his other emotions. If it had been that easy for Sephyrn to destroy the Lord of the Divide why hadn’t his father come to rescue him sooner?
When he glanced back at the Lord’s corpse he was struck by the fact that the Lord looked like a frail, old, broken human. Sephyrn had killed him as though the Lord had no power at all. It had been so quick and simple. When Onyx was young he had wasted his time and effort trying to gain the Lord’s approval and now he could see how foolish that had been. “Why did Sephyrn help us?” Onyx whispered finally.
“It is unknown why our sire does anything he does,” Niyx responded in a tone that indicated he thought it odd that Onyx was asking. He started throwing the bodies into a pile on top of the Lord’s corpse.
Once the Lord’s body was buried it was like a spell broke over Onyx. He shook himself then eyed Niyx as he asked, “Is it normal for Sephyrn to just show up and help you?”
“Yes. Sometimes. Only briefly. When I needed help. That was rare enough.” Niyx said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “He has not helped you?” Niyx asked when Onyx just gaped at him.
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen him. And I went looking,” Onyx murmured as he tried to sort out his emotions. Jealousy and rage were very clear. Not only did Sephyrn not come to save Onyx, he had helped Niyx? Was it because Onyx had Rubei looking out for him instead? Was it easier for Sephyrn to help Niyx out in the woods? Onyx wanted to run after Sephyrn. He had a lifetime’s worth of questions.
“Help me gather the dead,” Niyx said, breaking Onyx out of his thoughts.
Onyx moved to obey, dragging the bodies of his former colleagues to the pile. They had treated him badly and Ruel and Rubei worse. They deserved this fate. If he was honest he was glad they were dead. He had lived in fear that they would discover Niyx had brought him back to life. Always careful, always looking over his shoulder, always nervous that they would come and enslave him again. Or that they would come for Ruel or Rubei. Now they were all free. He didn’t expect the relief that filled him. Niyx had broken the chains of his past and the weight was lifted from his shoulders. Now Ruel and Rubei could live their lives in peace.
Onyx would not let Niyx touch Jadeia’s