Chapter 24: Transmutation
The demonic, muscular mantis-form that had given them so much trouble before had been decimated. The legs, abdomen and wings were gone, along with half an arm, leaving the Patriarch as little more than a breathless chest and head. Had he been human he would have been dead, but his demonic nature meant he would live on. He could gather his strength and regenerate his body, or abandon it and slip into the Underworld to plot to obtain a new one – he would be nigh-immortal. So long as his will maintained its strength. So long as his heart retained his memories. So long as he was never confronted by a being who could attack his ethereal presence. A being like a rival demon, a righteous magic-wielding human, or a faerie.
Unfortunately for the Patriarch, he was faced with two faeries right now, and the remainder of his body was the only thing protecting him from their power. So long as they couldn’t touch that, he would survive, but there was fear in his eyes as Phantasia descended on him like a shining, white Reaper.
“Before Dionysus died, I never had a goal; I just lived each day as it came. But when I lost him, I lost myself and became obsessed with trying to find who I was and what my power was about. I came here and thought I could save everybody from the Darkness my people said was rampant. It gave me an identity and a purpose. But then all this happened. I came here to try and make peace between everyone, so that the Darkness would stop, but instead, hey, it all went a bit crazy, you know? But I’ve come to a realisation, thanks to you and Wotan and everyone else. I’ve discovered who I really am,”
The Patriarch grimaced in pain. “Who do you think you are?” he asked, his voice a harsh whisper, “A heavenly scion sent down to cleanse the world of impurity?”
Phantasia made a face of mock contemplation as she rummaged around in her back pocket. “Nah!” she said after a moment’s pause, “I don’t care about any of that rubbish! I’m not a ‘scion’ or an ‘angel’ or some other kind of heavenly being with a ‘great destiny’,”
“Then what in God’s name are you?” The Patriarch trembled, but already he was beginning to absorb strength from the tainted mana surrounding them. She could tell he was gathering it, condensing it for an attack rather than using it to restore his body. It didn’t matter, though. In fact, it amused her.
“Simple, really,” – almost too simple, she thought – “I’m Phantasia Celeste, Princess of the Water Queendom! And you, Mr Patriarch, are history,”
She pulled out the remaining, pea-sized glob of putty with its blinking microchip and dropped it. With his one hand, the Patriarch tried and failed to deflect it.
“See ya.”
Compared to her previous attack, and Wotan’s own incredible magic, the explosion that followed was anticlimactic, but it was enough to blow apart the remainder of the Patriarch’s body. Before he had a chance to latch himself on to the smallest sinew of flesh, she dropped down and threw all her remaining power at his aura. The dark shadow of his will tried to resist, but without a material anchor for protection, it was at the mercy of the ether. With a psychic scream of rage, the Patriarch’s spirit dissolved into the leylines to be washed away by the streams of life.
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