Within moments of Sepherene taking control she was moving and beside the creature as it swung its sword down onto the cracked flagstones, splinters of stone flying into the air from the impact. Tugging the rotten flesh towards her, she placed her lips next the flaking skin that used to be the creatures ear.

  “Go now Typhaon, may your body forever rest in peace.”

  Blowing softly she felt his body relax and the blade clattered to the ground. A fresh breeze blew from the staircase, caressing the dusty webs that hung from the corners of the passageway and pushing the rank odour of death into the far reaches of the catacombs. She watched as the wind touched him and he crumbled, broken into a million tiny pieces that floated in the air before falling gently to the ground.

  Turning her head she looked into the blackness, her eyes cutting through the dark and seeing Lernaean standing there. “You should not have woken him. How many more obscenities will you perform?”

  “As many as it takes,” he said, stepping toward her. “I see you, Sepherene. Hiding within that body, scared to show yourself.”

  “You know it is forbidden to walk amongst the mortals in our true form,” she replied.

  He chuckled. “Forbidden for whom? You maybe, but not me. I do what I like Sepherene. I’m answerable to no-one, especially not Him.”

  “So it would seem,” she said, moving out of his reach. “You heard what I did to Nemean?”

  He stopped moving and stooped to pick up the torch, the broken cone flickering as he moved it. “Of course, it is only natural that you chose the weakest first. Tell me, did he beg for your mercy?”

  She looked at him and saw the emerald cloak he wore shift and move as though it was alive, crawling over his body and caressing his form. Her eyes rose to the sharp features of his face and lank black hair that clung to his head. He regarded her with obsidian eyes, inky black pools that were as cold as the night.

  “Your words do not do him justice. He fought with honour and pride.”

  “I would expect nothing less from The Lion,” he sneered. “No doubt you tried to persuade him the error of his ways and to turn his gaze aloft, as you will do with me?”

  “I did, but he was too lost in his own regret to listen. You are mistaken though, I will not preach to you, such futile gestures are a waste of time. You have fallen too far to remember the grace of redemption.”

  His face fell solemn and he dropped to one knee. “Surely all who ask for forgiveness should be offered it,” he said with a half-smile.

  She started forward, a hand touching the hilt of her sword. “Do not mock me, Lernaean, such words will only add to the weight of the burden you will have to carry.”

  He laughed. “Where is your sense of humour sister, you could at least share a smile with me?”

  “To what end?” she replied. “You only prolong the inevitable.”

  The cold countenance returned to his face. “The only inevitable will be your death. You think you are better than us because He has laid this charge before you, do you not think that He offered it to the rest of us as well? The only difference is that you are too blind and full of self-worth to say ‘no’.” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You are no different from me or Nemean, we were all cast aside to make room for the more appreciative.”

  Now it was Sepherene’s turn to laugh, the lilt dancing about her and pushing away the cloying night. “The lies fall from your mouth like rain. If I didn’t know you any better I would almost think you believe what you say. I see now why you tumbled from grace, you would make a fine servant for the First-Fallen.”

  “I am nobody’s servant,” he spat, a green hue materialising about his arms. “Enough of your delusional drivel, Typhaon may have failed me but his minions will not.”

  With that he threw his arms into the air and a loud bang echoed. Venomous mists seeped from his hands and coalesced about his body before expanding and drifting away into the various mausoleums. Stepping back, he was consumed by the ethereal vapour and vanished from her view.

  The crack of stone sounded somewhere behind her and she spun around into a crouch. Another came from the opposite chamber and then another further down the passageway. Moments later the catacombs were full of the noise of breaking rock and rubble falling onto flagstones like it was hailing.

  As the mist started to clear and the rock falls subsided, Sepherene saw the first creatures limp into view. A mixture of anger and disgust washed over her - soldiers pulled from their ancient sleep on the whim of a traitor. To call forth the undead in such a way was turpitude indeed.

  She drew her blade and held it aloft, whispering a brief prayer. The metal shimmered in an aura of white light that manifested itself around her and then caught alight. White flame skipped along the shaft and licked at the darkness, daring it to come closer.

  The creatures saw her as well, suddenly aware of her presence, and like a moth to a flame they came, centuries of hunger compelling them on, begging to be sated. She didn’t wait for them though and leapt forward into their midst, giving up a battlecry as she went.

  Sepherene fought with a divine rage, moving with a grace that belied the true ferocity of her strikes. Spinning on her feet she griped the sword with both hands and swung it in an upward arc, striking clean through three of the creatures and watching their bodies tumble to the ground. The reverse thrust came down across the neck of a fourth sending its head rolling across the passageway into the feet of more of the undead. Another grabbed at her robes but jerked away, clutching at the stubs where its hands had been before her blade had severed them. Her will was prodigious and wherever she turned, they fell to her sword like wheat to the scythe, but where one went down another two took its place.

  They continued to amble forward, groans passing their fetid lips and giving voice to the undying hunger within. Sepherene broke away, gaining a moments respite. She was strong but they were many. To simply hack and slash was not going to be enough. As they neared, her sword fell again, only this time pure, white flame spurted from its tip in a column of crackling fire. The conflagration hit them in the midst of their ranks sending shrieking bodies awash with holy fire, running in all directions. The flames spread amongst them like a dry grass fire, jumping between the parched corpses and consuming them with no remorse.

  She watched as they burned, feeling no pleasure or regret, only a sense of duty and its obligation. As the final few collapsed into ashes, she offered up a prayer for their desecration at the hands of Lernaean. He had gone too far and it was time that he answered for his sins.

  Moving deeper into the catacombs she knew he would be lying in wait. There were no more torches on the walls but it mattered not, the darkness was simply another shade of her ethereal vision. Unlike daylight the pitch black would lie to you, but for the hunter it had its advantages. She stalked through the crypts, eyes sharp and constantly searching for her quarry.

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  Her mind wandered as she walked the quiet passageways and images of Nemean came back to her. This was a completely different hunt to the one on Cleonae. There The Lion had faced her with a sense of honour and there had been no trickery or snares. She recalled the swing of his great axe, the strength behind it enough to topple the ancient trees of Heraclea with one fell swoop. She rubbed at the stump where Lucius’ left finger had once been and remembered the glancing blow as the axe had slid down the shaft of her sword and severed it. They had battled through day and night before she had bested him. One small slip was all it had taken but it had given her the chance she needed to step within his guard and deliver the fatal stroke, plunging her sword deep into his barrelled chest. He hadn’t cursed her or tried to escape, instead he had lowered himself to the ground and rested his head upon a rock, a faint smile even broke his stern features. She had prayed for him then. There had still been good in Nemean and of all those she sought, she had hoped that he would have been the most likely to repent, but then the loss of hope seemed too heavier burden for even him to bear.

  A peculiar scent took her attention and she stopped, sniffing the air. He was near, she could sense him.

  A sound came from her right followed by the briefest of movement’s. It was minuscule but gave her enough cause to pause. She waited, feeling her formidable strength flow into Lucius’ muscles and coiling them like springs. The anticipation was almost unbearable but she knew well the folly of impatience - a dangerous trait amongst humans. Even so, when it came, she was not prepared for the speed of his strike. A hiss followed by the smallest shift of air and the crack of Lernaean’s whip sounded like a clap of thunder. Pain racked her side and she clutched at where the small barbed hooks of the whip had torn open her arm. Already she felt the poison entering the blood and coursing through her veins. If it were to reach the heart then Lucius would fall and she would be stuck in his body forever. Seeking out the toxins and eradicating them was crucial.

  The task took only seconds and as she finished the whip cracked again, scoring the air with a green viscous mist where she had been standing only moments before. Reaching out to the side and taking hold of the lash as it recoiled, Sepherene gave a swift tug, pulling Lernaean off balance. Dashing forward, she coiled the lash around her hand so he could not strike again and drew her sword. Flames sprang to life along the blade and cast an eerie glow, banishing the shadows. His face leered before her, twisted with evil intent. Side-stepping the downward strike and dropping his whip, Lernaean drew a short gladius from his belt and replied with a flurry of attacks that she only just managed to avoid.

  They both slowed, facing one another and waiting to see who would move next.

  “You can’t beat me,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “I was always the quickest of us.”

  “Sometimes too quick for your own good,” she replied, skipping away from his feint.

  He lifted his chin and coaxed her with a flick of his hand. “Here is my neck, it is yours to sever.”

  Before he’d finished speaking she swung her sword but he tilted his head to the side and the blade past over him, missing by a hair’s breadth.

  “Now, now,” he mocked. “That’s not very honourable, trying to strike at me when I’m being so amenable.”

  “Huh, you don’t know the meaning of the word,” she said, holding her sword in a low guard and waiting.

  His next attack was a blur. Feinting to the right, he slid around her block, slicing the edge of his sword across her lower back and nimbly ducking below the wide sweep of her riposte. The pain was excruciating and she could feel the blood running freely down her legs. Steadying her breathing she moved so that they were facing each other again, watching as he danced from one foot to the other.

  “It could have been your head,” he conceded with a wry smile.

  “Is that it then, you mean to toy with me until you’re bored?”

  “I was hoping for more of a challenge but it seems you are out of practice.”

  She was about to reply when his blade flashed again, nicking her cheek. She moved to retaliate but he batted her thrusts away with ease, almost like he was tutoring a child on the basics of swordplay.

  Gathering a ball of energy from within, she threw it at him. The crackling sphere jumped into existence and hurtled towards Lernaean. He grasped the edge of his cloak and flicked it into the air before him, spinning the material into a myriad of green. The ball was instantly consumed by the whirlpool and he absently tossed the garment back onto his shoulders again.

  He tutted at her and his voice took on a bored tone. “Mere parlour tricks, Sepherene. What do you have for me next, stinging words of admonishment?”

  The dull throb in her back was almost distracting. Lernaean was stronger than she had anticipated and she was going to need to change her line of attack if she ever hoped to best him. If the conceit in his voice was anything to go by then maybe words were what she needed.

  “You are fortunate that it is not Nemean you face down here in the dark, his strength would far outdo your own,” she said, breathing heavily.

  Lernaean stopped pacing and narrowed his eyes. “I do not think so, if you could best him then I would have had nothing to fear.”

  She continued with the subterfuge of her breathless act. “Simply a touch of fate, he slipped and stumbled, that is the reason I won. His axe would have cleaved you in two leaving only your arrogance intact.”

  “His axe wouldn’t have touched me, I am far too quick for such barbaric weapons.”

  “You have been around these mortals for too long, you forget the power that your brother wielded.”

  His lip quivered. “He wouldn’t have stood a chance against me, my poisons alone would have left him defenceless and pitifully weak. You would do well to remember that Sepherene, lest I gift you with another dose.”

  She absently kicked the whip that lay near to where she was standing. “It was a lethal concoction indeed but only held my attention briefly. Maybe you are losing your touch?”

  He bristled at the suggestion. “My knowledge of venom and toxins is unrivalled, none can equal me.”

  “I would not argue with you brother,” she said, dropping her chin to hide the smile. “So you can imagine my shock when I dealt with your last administration with such ease.”

  The knuckles of his sword-hand turned white and she noted the muscles tighten in his forearm. Lernaean always did carry a short fuse and it would seem that today was no different. His arrogance was extraordinary.

  “Your criticism has been duly noted, maybe now we can return to the more pressing matter of your death?”

  She saw the strike coming before he had even moved. A subtle adjustment of his lead foot; ridges of tension falling away from the raised tendons in his neck; and the shoulder muscles of his sword arm bunching in preparation. Her counter strike began a mere fraction of a second later after he lunged forward, his sword’s tip striking at her like a bolt of lightning. Shifting her balance, she managed to avoid the full ferocity of his thrust, taking the razor-like edge across the top of her collarbone. Pain lanced across her shoulder as the blade bit deeply into the sinew and bone but it wasn’t enough to distract her from her own attack.

  Lernaean’s mouth dropped as her sword entered his gut and he relinquished the hold on his assault. A whisper of breath escaped from his lips and he fumbled for her wrist but she continued to move, ignoring the pain as the sword was jerked from his hand, prising apart the flesh of her shoulder before falling to the ground. Twisting her own grip, she dragged her blade free of his stomach and kicked him in the groin. Staggering back, he doubled over, desperately groping for something to defend himself with.

  Sepherene didn’t pause. Stepping to the side she hacked down at his neck with all of her might. There was a moment’s resistance where her edge found bone but with a resounding crack it passed through and continued out the other side. Lernaean’s head thudded onto the stone floor and rolled against the wall. His body followed, slumping forward and landing at her feet, spilling his lifeblood onto the flagstones.

  Reaching down and taking hold of the cloak, Sepherene gave a sharp tug and pulled it clear from the body that twitched and jerked, desperate to cling onto any remaining suggestion of life. She twisted the cape around her forearm and pressed it onto the injury in her shoulder. Her body had started to work on the deep cut the moment she had sustained it but due to the severity it would take longer than usual and she was aware that Lucius needed to rest.

  She could already feel the temperature dropping and her ragged breath misted into swirls of warm air before her. Lernaean’s body had started to evanesce, hissing beneath the robes. His cold eyes regarded her from the foot of a crumbling wall, dull light glimmering behind the deathly visage. Sparing him one final glance, she whispered a brief prayer and made her way back along the corridor, gripping the cloak tightly and pushing it deeper into the wound.