I watched with eyes stained by the searing glare of Or'do's doom; a muzzle flash that rang like a funeral dirge in the solemn air, a blinding light that was painted dark as my comrade's blood sprayed forth. Gehrman leaned back, his fingers crooked like the claws of a blood thirsting beast. I was still ten paces, eight, six, as I surged on, my trailing foot lost in a tempest of silt, my hands clenched at my sides, hand outstretched as if this alone could save him.

Five his entire body turned, fist nocked overhead with the same fear inspiring power of an arrow set upon drawn bowstring.

Four black flame roiled along his flesh, flaring in a corona of deep shadow that even the depths light dares not touch, could not rival. Lightning flashed in that black tempest, swirling in the shrunken hurricane that dwelt upon his wrist, having in its primordial hunger consumed his hand.

Three I looked on in horror as that fist descended, and I knew that my comrade would fall here, would bleed his last while I stood helpless. Fury coursed through me, shining in my eyes like twin stars dragged from their heavenly perches. I lunged, shoving Or'do aside and slamming an iron palm against Gehrman's descending fist, its dark tempest searing my hand like a swarm of razor blades. I wrenched his hand aside, and with my free hand smote his cheek. He was unmoved, his foot lashing up from below and smashing against my jaw, sending me stumbling back.

Lightning flared through me, shining in my eyes, blazing in my veins, glowing in my heart. I ducked as he launched another kick, then reached up, grasping his ankle with fingers bright as the midday Sun, strong and unforgiving as iron. Twisting past, I thrust his leg upward, robbing him of balance and throwing him to the ground with an inglorious grunt. Pivoting still I descended upon him like the dark angel of Death itself, my fist weeping tears of fire, my eyes shimmering with hateful tears. He scrambled back, my fist thundering into the ground where he lay moments ago, leaving a crater that glowed with vines of heat, smouldered like a hearth abandoned yet still aglow with hope.

Bestial and primeval, a roar came to my lips, burning my throat with its ferocity yet igniting untold vigor within my once weary limbs. Gehrman had stumbled back to where his scythe lay, its listing pole driven slightly into the earth, the cant of its burial sinking the cracked blade into the clinging mire. Pivoting on my leading foot, I struck him with a forearm, slashing his stomach and driving the breath from him in a hoarse cough. Fire blazed in my legs as I surged up, my fist crashing against his jaw with the force of falling mountains, flipping him onto the ground before me where he lay only a breath, instantly rolling aside as lowering myself into a crouch, I again cracked the stones with a thunderous punch that rang with a funeral bell's solemn knell.

Instinct had me twisting aside as his scythe rent the air I had so recently occupied, yet instead of retreating, I closed my hand around the crescent blade, and with power I thought beyond me, clenched those fingers of searing iron, shattering the weapon into a cloud of moonlight. Before he could even register the movement I was upon him again, my fist crashing against his jaw, rocking him where he stood.

So long had he tormented the Ashen, taunting them with false hope, feasting upon their Cinder. No more. Not now. Not this time. Not ever again.