Akamon arrived at the makeshift house after an hour's walk—a transient shelter they'd built for stolen moments between battles. He shoved the door open, eyes scanning the cluttered space.
"She didn't even tell me where she kept it."
Then—a surge of unstable mana, wild and familiar. Marcy's. His blood turned to ice.
Something's wrong.
The urge to sprint back to her clawed at his ribs—until her voice seemed to whisper in his skull: "Don't come without the box." Jaw clenched, he forced himself to search. She's the Vampire Queen. What could hurt her?
He almost believed it.
Meanwhile.
The paralysis spell held Marcy like chains, her muscles screaming as Dreyhan advanced. The dagger in his hand glinted crimson, its hilt carved with glyphs of forgotten genocide.
Her breath hitched. "Where did you get that?"
Dreyhan lunged without answering, blade aimed for her heart—a killing strike she shouldn't evade.
Yet she roared: "DRIVE!"
The spell circles beneath her shattered. She twisted away—too slow. The dagger sheared through her arm, and she collapsed with a gasp.
Dreyhan licked blood of the blade.
"Impressive. But our work here is already half done.You do realize that even if we leave now the effect still kills you,right?" He gestured to the severed arm already disintegrating to ash, carried away by the wind. "You recognize this, don't you? And still let it cut you."
Marcy ripped her sleeve above the injury and tied up her bleeding, buying seconds. "A Soul Eater. It doesn't just kill—it erases.No reincarnation. No afterlife.Just complete and utter annihilation."
Dreyhan grinned. "Next, I take your head. We planned this perfectly.The one day you'd be mortal, noon when your magic's weakest…" He circled her as blood pooled at her boots. "Just die quietly."
Handicapped. Bleeding. Alone.Even one-handed, Marcy refused to kneel.
She whispered, "Blood Spikes."
Crimson spears erupted from the earth—first aimed at Dreyhan, forcing him to brace—then veered violently toward his accomplices. Their throats pierced before they could scream.
Dreyhan glanced at their corpses,layed in the midst of a blood pool, his grin widening. "Marceline… you slick bitch."
She raised her sword with her remaining arm, the blade trembling not from weakness, but from rage barely leashed.
"No more interruptions." Blood dripped from her severed shoulder, yet her voice was steel. "You'll die by my blade."
Dreyhan sheathed the Soul Eater dagger, claws unsheathing from his gauntlets. The forest fell silent—two predators circling in the hush before slaughter.
Marcy moved first.
Wind screamed as she closed the distance, her swing cleaving toward Dreyhan's ribs. He crossed his gauntlets, grunting as the impact shuddered through his bones.
"She's fast," he hissed—just as her second strike came.
No time to counter. He wrenched himself backward, claws raking dirt as he barely escaped the blade's kiss.
Marcy wasn't so unaffected.Her breathing grew ragged,with each inhale. If only I had my immortality… even half my power— But no. She was mortal. Bleeding. And Dreyhan knew it.
He paced like a caged beast, his smirk fraying into something manic. "You won't survive an hour," he snarled, driving a fist into a tree—splintering it to pulp. "Why won't you just DIE?"
A voice slithered into his mind, telepathic and cold:
[Dreyhan. We're out of time. Kill her.]
"Relax," he muttered, cracking his knuckles. His eyes locked onto Marcy.
She felt it—the surge in his mana, a tsunami about to break.
"Playtime is over."
"Carnage Rally!"
Green orbs erupted from his fingertips, screaming toward her. Her sword shattered blocking the third. She dodged, rolled, wove—but mortal flesh was fragile, and hers more than most. Blood welled in a dozen grazes.
Desperate, she threw up a blood wall. The last orbs detonated against it, shaking the ground beneath.
When the dust cleared—Dreyhan was gone.She was far to focused on escaping the hits that she never thought Dreyhan would use it as a decoy
"You're good, Marcy." His voice, behind her. "Maybe way too good." He paused. "But I'm just better."
His claws punched through her back—and out her chest.
Marcy choked, blood bubbling on her lips. Her body convulsed as disintegration accelerated—fingers, then her torso, crumbling to ash.
Dreyhan yanked his claws free, scaly wings bursting from his back. One leap, and he was a shadow against the sun.No words,nothing more just left her to her fate.
Marcy collapsed to the ground. Half her chest was gone. The wind carried her away—particle by particle.
Marcy felt her spirit fraying—a thread snipped from the loom of existence. Her final wish burned brighter than the pain,Just let me see him one last time,she begged silently.
Then she felt warmth. Arms encircled her, lifting her against a chest she knew by heartbeat alone.
Her vision blurred, but she didn't need sight to recognize him. Akamon.
Tears fell from his face onto hers, his body shaking so violently she wondered how he held her at all. His voice shattered between them, syllables crumbling like her body.
"Marceline, you—you aren't regenerating. What's going on? You're… turning to dust."
She raised a disintegrating hand to his cheek. Her thumb smeared blood—his tears cutting tracks through it. A weak smile.
"You're late, idiot." A cough, more ash than sound. "Where's the box?"
His breath hitched. "Marcy… There was no box, was there?"
She shook her head, her hair flaking away like burnt paper. "I'm sorry. It was the only way to keep you safe."
His hand clamped over hers, pressing it to his face as if he could fuse her into his skin. "Please don't leave me," he begged, voice raw. "Please, please don't leave me."
She was almost gone now—ribs visible through the hole in her chest, legs dissolved to the knee. But her smile held, soft as the day they'd met.
"I love you."
The wind took the rest.
End of chapter.Please don't forget to leave a review.I'd appreciate your opinions ;)