CHAPTER 40: APOCALYPSE

As Thomas took his first step out from the safe haven of the golden threads, his short young life suddenly flashed before his eyes.

He saw himself as a child, chasing after the autumn leaves on the streets. The other children had not wanted to play with him. Then he saw himself at his graduation with freckles and braces complete with cracked glasses, standing alone and smiling awkwardly at the camera while the rest of his classmates stood in the arms of their parents. He had been lonely then. The image was soon replaced by his first-day job as a library assistant at the Birmingham Library. He had felt at home there and was accepted by all the book-loving children who would share with him their candies and sandwiches.

A smile appeared on his lips just then, and his vigour renewed as he stepped further out to face the rage of the black mist. With each step he took, a surge of determination began to flow through him, growing stronger and stronger, until it became an unstoppable force.

*I will protect the children.*

Another step. Marcelino had already called forth an ancient spirit of his, a great white bear. It was tearing into the blizzard of black mist.

*I will not fail them.*

Two more steps. Vlad had charged ahead down the hill, having spotted the source of the mist.

Thomas thought of his first meeting with Hans and the time they spent together during training. There had been laughter and there had been tears. He remembered Suzanne buying him a new pair of glasses and paying for it with her own pocket money. Then there were the twins, they were an annoying pair of teenagers but had sent always him their home knit sweaters as birthday presents every year without fail.

This was his family.

*I will not let them down.*

He held onto his wand tightly and summoned his protector.

A blinding light rose from the ground behind him and out galloped the most beautiful horse spirit once could ever see. It was white and luminous and so radiant that it momentarily caused the mist to disperse in confusion. Thomas’ horse spirit sprinted ahead to attack the mist.

*I will be strong.*

With a mighty roar, Thomas charged head-on. He did not look back.

Down below the winding road, Vlad came to a stop, halting not far from where the two hooded figures hovered. Three ancient beings from the dawn of time stood facing one another as the battle raged on at the mansion.

“Hello. You should have knocked.” It was a sarcastic greeting.

The black figures had no sense of humour, but they were willing to extend an offer to him.

“Join us.”

“What? And become second best? No thank you.”

“You dare bite at the hands that gave you life?!” one roared, its voice clouded by the arrogance of the dark powers it yielded.

Vlad stared into the face of the hooded figure and saw nothing but emptiness inside. He chuckled bitterly, suddenly yearning to see the great forest once again, “You did not give me life. You gave me a living hell.”

“Then we shall drag you back to where you belong,” the first figure hissed and raised its hand in an attempt to telekinetically crush Vlad’s skull. But Vlad had a trick up his sleeve. With blinding reflexes, he threw a bottle of shimmery white powder at the ancient foe, catching it by surprise.

Who would have thought Vlad the age-old vampire would pull such a cheap dirty trick? Hah.

*Got you.*

While the powder had no effect on the hooded figure, it did buy Vlad some time. What a precious moment it was for in that split second of time, Vlad pulled out a silver dagger from the back of his cloak. Unbeknownst to everyone, Vlad too possessed a dagger of great powers. It was similar to the ones the clairvoyants yielded, only bigger in size. The dagger was special to him,  it had been a gift from a friend of long ago.

“Use it only in times of great danger Vlad,” those had been the parting words of his friend.

*Now is a time of great danger, my friend.*

In a move so fast that would seem like a blur to the human eye, Vlad dashed forwards and plunged the dagger deep into the chest of the first hooded figure.

*This is for mother.*

A great and fearful flame leapt from the dagger. It burned throughout the hooded figure’s body and struck its very core, burning it to the ground, leaving nothing in its wake.

For a moment, everything became quiet. Even the mist seemed to tame down and both Marcelino and Thomas took this opportunity to attack the mist over and over again.

Then a piercing howl came from the second figure.

***

“It’s working!” the twins shouted, sensing a change in the air. The attacks on the cacoon had become weaker.

“Quiet! Let Suzanne concentrate,” Hans warned, not letting his guard down. A part of him wished he could go to the battleground to help his friends, but he needed to be here. Just in case.

In the centre of the bloodied circle, Suzanne grimaced in pain. She had lost a lot of blood but was pushing ahead to gain an upper hand in controlling the dark portal.

It was growing bigger by the minute and all they had to do was draw the remaining mist and its source back to the hellhole.

“Any minute now,” Hans cautioned, raising his wand to formulate an opening in the barrier. The plan was to slowly draw the mist in under their control.

But just as he started to recite the chants in reverse near the main door, a violent burst of lightning struck the mansion, blasting the door open and throwing Hans off course. The wind from the storm was so great it blew at Hans, slamming him into the wall of the foyer. There was a great impact as Hans’ head struck the bricks causing him to lose consciousness. Then like a sack of potatoes, he slumped onto the marble floor facedown.

“Hans!” the twins screamed.