The Sacrifice of a Friend

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Daenerion wakes up one evening to get a midnight snack and is rewarded with a night of dread, terror and near death.

Submitted: January 06, 2014

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Submitted: January 06, 2014



Daenerion was walking through the Palace towards the kitchens. He was starving. Ever since he had been run through with that lance and he had started to heal, his metabolism had gone through the roof. For the last few days these midnight visits to the kitchen had become common place. He was in the foyer now, walking down the main stair case, he could see the door to the downstairs kitchen and a smile covered his face.

Then something stopped him dead in his tracks, it was a scream. A high pitched, blood curdling scream. The sound was coming from the direction of the dining hall. He bolted up the stairs, taking them four at a time. He turned right on the upper stair case and ran down the hall at full tilt. The scream had turned into desperate sobs and cries of "NO!" 
He recognized the voice was Liandris' as he ran up to the giant doors of the Council Chamber. They were closed, that was odd, how had Liandris gotten into the Chamber if the door was shut.

Daenerion stopped in front of the doors and tried to push them open, they didn't budge, he pushed again, pouring all his considerable strength into his task and still nothing. He stepped back, analyzing the door and saw the faint hint of dark magic about it. He concentrated on the door in an attempt to break the enchantment. All the time, Liandris was crying histerically from the other side calling for help, "He's dying! Someone please help me save him!"
Daenerion tried to break the enchantment, but it fought back and broke his concentration.
"Fuck it!" he swore.
Focussing on the door with a different power, his telekinesis, he raised his hands and let the power build for less than a second and let it loose straight for the doors. 

The ancient doors burst apart under the power of Daenerion's telekinetic powers and he burst through the remains, kicking pieces of wood and mortar out of his way. He saw Liandris on the other side of the room, sobbing her eyes out and cradling someone's head. There was a large pool of vermillion blood around them both. Alarmed, Daenerion rushed over and what he saw made his stomach churn, in Liandris' arms, white as a sheet and covered in his own blood was Marcaelo.

Daenerion's eyes went as wide as sauce pans and he fell to his knees, grief overpowering his will to stand. He stared at Marcaelo's pail face almost sure that he was dead. He moved closer to Liandris though the pool of blood, staining his white robes with bright red blood and gently lifted Marcaelo's hand. Hoping against hope that Marcaelo was alive. He felt for a pulse and was instantly filled with hope, there was a pulse, a weak one, but a pulse never the less.
"Liandris!" he said, " Marcaelo's alive! If we hurry to the infirmary we can save him."
But Liandris remained unmoving, crying into Marcaelo's chest. Daenerion was not in the mood for Liandris' irrational behavior and roughly shoved her out of the way. She barely resisted and fell onto the blood soaked floor, now quietly sobbing to herself. 

Daenerion put his left arm behind Marcaelo's neck and the other behind his knees and lifted him up off of the cold, blood sodden floor and bolted towards the infirmary. It was on the other side of the palace and he wasn't going to waste time. He bolted through the palace taking the shortest route he could. He could sense that Marcelo was fading with every step, his heartbeat becoming weaker and his breathing becoming more and more shallow. Daenerion felt hot tears coming down his face, he didn't know when he had started crying, but the tears were pouring. The palace seemed to go on forever. He whirled around the last corner before the infirmary and Daenerion started shouting.
"Jessamine! Get up! We need your help!"
The door to the infirmary looked as closed and secure as ever and for the second time that night Daenerion used his powers. Throwing a bolt of telekinetic energy right at the door and blasting it off it's hinges. 

When he ran into the infirmary, Jessamine was awake and startled.
"What the hell are you doing?" she shouted at Daenerion, "You can't just go around blasting doors apart when ever you feel like it."
Daenerion was fuming now, tears still pouring down his cheeks.
He started shouting, "Will you stop being a bitch for two seconds and listen to me!"
Jessamine was taken by surprise, Daenerion had never shouted at her like that and then she noticed who was in Daenerion's arms.
"Holy shit!" she exclaimed, "What the hell happened?"
"I have no idea!" shouted Daenerion. "Just heal him! I don't think he has much time left!"
Daenerion put Marcaelo down on one of the beds in the infirmary and Jessamine went to work tearing open Marcaelo's robes to get a look at the wounds. Daenerion  averted his eyes, unable to look at the wounds. Jessamine wasted no time and placed her hands on the wounds on his stomach, attempting to heal them with her powers. The wounds refused to close, healing and tearing open again. This caused Marcaelo to convulse in pain and then he gasped one final breath and was still.
"I can't do it!" cried Jessamine. Sitting on a stool, completely drained from her efforts to heal him. "The wounds were made by a blade forged from a very powerful demon metal, they won't heal, ever! I'm afraid we're going to loose a friend tonight." 

Daenerion stared at her in horror. He couldn't believe that Jessamine was giving up, she always pushed herself to the limit to heal the injured Nephilim that came to her for help. This must be truly the end for Marcaelo, thought Daenerion. But then a wave of conviction flowed all around Daenerion's mind and spirit. He went to Marcaelo and started CPR, pushing against his chest again and again. 
"You will not die tonight old friend." he said with conviction.
A long while passed and there was still no change. Marcaelo was still not breathing, yet Daenerion refused to give up. He hit Marcaelo's chest with his hand charging it with energy in an attempt to get Marcaelo's heart beating again. Still there was no change and Daenerion's friend lay on the bed motionless, as if he  were asleep.
"No." said Daenerion charging his fist again and hitting his friend in the chest again and again and again.
"NO! You will not die!" he shouted, "I've lost too many friends and family to those demon bastards! I will not loose another!"
And with that he raised his fist again, charging it with so much power that it shone so brightly, it filled the whole infirmary with light. He brought his fist down harder than he had before, with all the power a Nephilim lord had in his being.

At first nothing happened and Daenerion fell to his knees, weakened from his exertion. He stood up on shaky legs and looked at Marcaelo, he was still as still as the dead. Then suddenly he gasped in a raspy breath. Daenerion looked at his body and noticed that the wounds on his stomach were healing and closing with barely a scar to show that they were there. Color flooded his cheeks as the lost blood in his body was replaced and he turned on his side, sound asleep, his breathing strong as ever.

Daenerion collapsed into a nearby sofa and looked into a steel plate that hanged off the wall and that's when he noticed his hair had changed. On the left side of his forehead a streak of hair had grown as white as snow. He had used some of his own life force to heal his friend, yet his face had not aged, the eternal youth and immortality of the Nephilim still intact within his being and with that thought of relief he fell soundly asleep, exhaustion overwhelming him.

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