Dante opened his eyes against the noise of rustled cloth above him, and was utterly amazed by the sight. Zephiel stood, Bloodstained hands stopping Jareth's blade. "You truly have lost your mind, Brother." Zephiel sighed, wrenching the blade from Jareth's grasp. "Perhaps you are not fit to rule this realm as we had earlier supposed..." he muttered, as though he knew quite a lot more of Jareth's plot than Jareth did himself. "You know not of my plan, you pawn. I know of your hand in the Darkness, and how you plot of my demise. I am more powerful now than ever, Zephiel--and I will complete this metamorphasis with YOU!" He lunged from the throne, teeth bared. The truth sank into Dante's mind all too quickly. Zephiel and Jareth were exact opposites in every way, other than their vampirism. He recalled the story of the Father, how the Archangel Zamiel was ripped into two after being infected with the nosferatu disease. He managed to get to his feet in time to witness the two blood brothers--no, the two halves, battling all-out, vicious blows barely being countered back and again. The entire castle shook with power as the rest of the Order stormed into the throne room to bear witness. Some stood in awe, some in knowing silence. Malechai grabbed his daughter by the arm, dragging her from the hall. Dante tried to follow, but the path was blocked. Jareth let out a fir of blood-curtling laughter. Zephiel was pinned against the throne, his neck fully exposed and ready. Dante took the chance that he could, and charged.
Jareth Black · Tue Aug 23, 2005 @ 07:47am · 2 Comments |