"You have fought hard and well, Ashen One. I shall reward you now with the tantalizing emptiness of a most permanent death." 

Gehrman's hand drew back, fingers poised to rip Aleorn's heart from its moorings, then sudden movement to his left drew his attention.

"The hell you will!" Or'do smashed against the First Hunter, his hand closing around the man's face, throwing him to the earth, dragging him along and carving a man sized gash in the earth with his body. Clumps of sod and the slender, plaintive fingers of withered grass sprayed out around the Eldest of Dark's Vassals as he was drawn like a plow through the lands of his domain, blood tracing his features where Or'do's fingers had pierced skin and cracked bone.

Lightning flashed in Or'do's dark eyes as he twisted his entire body, flinging the limp Gehrman some thirty paces, where he slammed against the earth with a sickening crack! Yet even now, Or'do did not relent. Darkness spiraled around his clawed fingers like curious serpents, curling back as if tasting the air, seeking prey.

Aleorn held limp in Gehrman's iron grasp, the light gone from his eyes, the fight ebbed from his limbs. Defeat drags him to the earth, bows his head, crushes his soul. 

Or'do roared, his hands clawed at his sides, black lightning flashing along his forearms and burning deep in his eyes. He lunged, crossing the distance between himself and his fallen foe in mere seconds, descending upon Gehrman like a plunging condor of iron, his eyes trailing two bands of dark flame, his claws rippling sabers jutting from his knuckles.

"Stand up, Aleorn!" He slammed into the prone Hunter like a comet striking the earth, his fiery descent shattering the earth, splintering the air itself with a deafening roar. "Raise your head, my comrade. There is nothing in all creation that should ever bow it!" His fist came down with thunderous force, blazing cracks writhing across the sundered stones, the wilting grass turning black as night in a broad halo around the warriors. "So as long have we fought, Aleorn, we have fought for all the Ashen who despair. We have fought to end their suffering, to end the Cycle once and forevermore." Or'do grunted as Gehrman twisted beneath him, slamming the pommel of his blade against Or'do's temple.

Aleorn rose on hands and knees, his eyes dark with misery. "It is hopeless, Or'do. We cannot win this." He whispered, his voice cracking with anguish. Those words pained him like no blade ever could, for theirs was an agony of the deepest, foulest sort, whose cold fangs bit not flesh but the soul itself.

"The hell it is!" Or'do ducked, Gehrman's hand painting a crescent of light over his head, that continued on past to strike and burn through the metal fence, arching off into the sickly night. "Hope, Aleorn. Hope is what led us through those dark days to the light beyond. Hope is our greatest weapon, my friend. And no matter how bleak or dire our situation seems, I swear to you, cling to that fraying hope, nurture it, let it grow. Let it become strong and bright as the Flame itself!" Trailing wisps of darkness, a flurry of slashing blows painted the air before him, yet Or'do neither wavered nor slowed, gracefully weaving between the crescents of shadow and driving his fist against Gehrman's jaw. Leaning back, Or'do whirled into a kick traced in ribbons of blackness bleaker than starless heavens, his foot smashing against the Vassal's ribs with a deafening retort that pealed like melancholy thunder through the charred, smouldering, beleaguered field. Gehrman folded before the blow, crumpling to the earth where he lay only moments before surging back to his feet with impossible vigor, his assault already renewed, the whirlwind of glimmering shadow once more encircling Or'do, planting its deadly kiss upon his trailing limbs, spraying vines of scarlet upon the thirsting earth. In Gehrman's hands, one blade became a thousand, smashing against Or'do's armour, grinding against its ornate grooves, clattering against its spurred peaks, cracking plate and shattering mail, driving Or'do to his knees.

"Lift those eyes, Aleorn. Their fire is the fire that warms bleak hearts, that speaks of a hope that will not die. Not now, not ever."

Aleorn slammed an iron fist into the earth, vines of fire branching out from the impact, the sod blackening around him.

Or'do had fallen to his knees, an upraised forearm clashing with Gehrman's descending blade, sparks spraying his face, scarring his cheeks with thin streams of darkness. "Rise, Aleorn. The Ashen need you, the world needs you." His head snapped back, a gout of crimson jetting from his jaws as Gehrman's blade pierced his throat, filling his lungs with cold fire, his mouth with bitter, coppery warmth. Yet neither steel nor death could render silent his empowered voice. "I need you."

Fire swelled in Aleorn's chest, and he surged to his feet, a cloak of flame rolling over his shoulders, seething across the earth, melting stone and setting wilted grass ablaze. Incandescent light shone from his molten pupils as he took one step that became a thousand, carrying him in a single breath's span to stand before Gehrman, a fist arching in, caving the Hunter's chest. Thick, braided tongues of flame exploded from Aleorn's elbow, singeing the air, singing their haunting chorus as he leaned toward the staggered Hunter, hurling him into the merciless fence where he lay motionless, its frame bowed by the tremendous impact.

Aleorn tilted back his head and unleashed a roar that rang with sorrow and thundered with rage. "In the name of all Ashen, in the name of all who look to the heavens with long denied hope, I will strike you down!" Or'do climbed to his feet at Aleorn's side, a smile on his bloodied lips, his throat already closing.

"Glad to have you back."

Aleorn nodded, returning the hope filled grin, realizing that at last, the fear of Gehrman had lifted, his shoulders were again light, his steps lighter, and his fists powerful as crumbling mountains. "I'll never leave you again." He promised. "No matter who we face."