Chapter 425: Stubborn (Part One)
Heila’s concentration on her snow cloud spell shattered when Ignatious’s deeply anguished howl of pain split the night. Fat, fluffy snowflakes still hung in the air, drifting slowly toward the ground but the barrage of snowballs ceased as she turned her attention to the injured vampire.
Pale yellowish-gold flames ran along the length of the blade, turning a darker reddish-orange where they spilled from the hilt of the sword onto the former Inquisitor’s charred and blackened hands. Already, the flesh on the backs of his hands and a few of his fingers had begun to crack and split, revealing pale white bone and tendon beneath the charred and blackened skin.
"Ignatious!" Heila shouted, instantly gathering a handful of snow from the ground at her feet and rushing toward him. "Drop the sword!" she yelled, flinging the snow on his hands in the hopes of doing something to counter the heat. The snow, however, did nothing to improve matters, melting before it could even reach the blade and turning into a cloud of steem that froze in the air as it drifted away.
"I, c-can’t, let g-go," Ignatious said through gritted teeth. Blood ran down his chin from where his fangs had pierced his lips as he tried to summon the will to fight back against the flames of the blade but nothing he did seemed to help.
In fact, the more he fought, the worse matters became as the blade drank in his energy like a vampire consuming blood, turning it into its own strength and feeding it back to him in the form of hotter, more penetrating flames. Already, the flames were spreading up his forearms, burning away the red and gold robes of the Inquisition and revealing pale flesh that had begun to blister and crack.
"You have to!" Heila cried, wracking her brain for something, anything that she could do. Strangely, the heat of the blade had done nothing to the snow around Ignatious despite the fact that it’s flames were hot enough to boil the blood in his veins. The only time it seemed to do anything to the environment was when Heila tried to use snow to fight the flames or soothe his wounds.
"What if you give up?" Heila asked as she tried to recall everything the artificer had said about the Holy Flame Blade. "Didn’t Erkembalt say that if the sword won the struggle, it would leave you exhausted but unharmed? Why is this happening?"
"I can’t give up," Ignatious said through clenched teeth. He’d already tried surrendering to the blade once and that decision had allowed the flames to spread almost to his elbows. If he gave the blade any more ground, it would only drink more deeply from the vast pool of energy he carried and it would use that energy to immolate him until nothing remained but bones and ash.
"I’m sorry, little Heila," the vampire said as a defeated expression appeared on his face. "Perhaps I can endure until it’s drained me dry," he said as he pushed back against the blade, forcing the flames to halt their advance beyond his forearms. "But I’ll be no use to you or Lady Ashlynn."
"No!" Heila snapped, lowering her head and slamming into the defeated looking vampire with both of her horns. The blow knocked him to the ground, falling awkwardly on his back as Heila forced him down to a level where she could reach the burning blade. "You don’t give up! Not when Lady Ashlynn needs you," she said.