His Most Loyal Follower

"Everyone, get in formation!" Meg swung the staff like a sword, her scarlet Levia already glowing within the Star. "Lodo! Zenith!"

Lodo leaped in front of her, landing gracefully on his paws. Zenith stepped up beside him, sword drawn.

Victor came up by his other side. The two exchanged brief, significant nods before readying their weapons.

Scarlet diagrams erupted beneath Lodo and Zenith, blazing so bright they almost drowned out the glow of the corrupted Levia. None appeared for Victor, but he took it in stride and summoned a diagram of his own. Purple flames wreathed his sword, while white light flared inside Zenith's and Lodo's claws extended with a click of metal.

"Let's go, Ryllis!" Sam yelled. Ryllis lunged forward, already atop a mint-green diagram. That didn't stop Meg from adding a scarlet one of her own, the colors blending in a strangely beautiful combination. When Ryllis flicked her wrist, flames erupted around her spear.

As Meg pointed her staff high, the diagram beneath her feet burned brighter. And yet another one appeared under Kress, who was manning the cannon up above. Kress lurched, but quickly caught herself and let out a whoop.

Meg's arms were shaking and sweat glistened on her face, but the diagrams didn't show any signs of flagging. The Star of Miriel really was something.

Even without strengthening spells, the other fighters were getting ready too. The archers lifted their bows, while Guntar braced his rifle against his shoulder.

Excitement pounded inside Ryan's chest, electrifying his nerves. Yeah, he couldn't let everyone else show him up. Reaching for his own Levia, he got ready to cast the strongest elemental spell he knew. "All right, Avia – "

The instant the words burst out, his Levia scattered in useless sparks. His insides going cold, he whirled toward Fia. Hopefully they'd been so busy concentrating they hadn't heard – but when he met their wide eyes, his heart plummeted.

"Uh, um...." Ryan swallowed, feeling like the world's biggest chump. "Sorry, I...."

"It's okay." Fia cleared their throat. "I – I get it. No big deal."

"Yeah, uh...." Dammit, why did this have to be so hard? If only the deck would open up and swallow him alive. "Let's, uh...."

'Real smooth, genius,' but it didn't matter because Fia had closed their eyes again. Looked like they were trying to act like nothing had happened, and Ryan might have bought it if it weren't for the way their Levia faintly rippled.

Great. Just great. Somehow, he had to find something to say, some way to apologize for real. But Fia was so busy concentrating he figured interrupting might only make things worse.

And before he could even think of any words, a sudden burst of speed almost knocked him onto his ass. Gripping the railing, he watched as Samakah's massive body loomed closer and closer.

Looked like the Blue Sky had begun its charge.

~*~

The rain lashed at Major Veratrum's face, almost blinding him even through his flight goggles. But he squinted his eyes and gripped the reins of the nightsoarer tighter, refusing to let the less-than-ideal visibility stop him.

Besides, he could still make out a noxious green glow somewhere to the northwest. As long as he kept heading toward it, he would reach his destination.

Gritting his teeth, Veratrum snapped the reins. The nightsoarer picked up speed, barrelling into the storm without hesitation. It was built to fly in rough weather, the rain easily sluicing off its waterproof feathers.

Even so, it didn't feel anywhere near fast enough. 'Please, please,' Veratrum urged himself, heart thundering against his ribcage. 'Don't let me be too late....'

He didn't care that General Hellebore had abandoned him in the wreckage of the hold, most certainly didn't give a damn that the General would be furious about his interference. Now that things had come to this, it was a battle against the clock to reach Hellebore before he succumbed to the corrupted Levia he had absorbed.

As Veratrum came closer, he made a tiny blue smudge darting toward the ocean spirit. What fools, trying to attack headlong. Although Veratrum wouldn't object if it meant Hellebore defeated them more quickly. Then he'd have more precious time to talk his general down.

His heart caught in his throat when a half dozen twisters spouted from the ocean, lashing at the prince's skycraft. No – the more he drew from the spirit's powers, the worse Hellebore's chances became.

Some might call Veratrum foolish. Why go this far for another, especially one who'd made it clear he didn't want to be stopped? Shouldn't Veratrum be celebrating that his commander had acquired this kind of power? Wasn't it the dream of every demon?

'Not me,' Veratrum told himself fiercely. 'There is more in this world than power.'

A lesson he had learned in his childhood days, so many years ago. Then, he had scraped out the barest semblance of a living in the Pit, the devastated shell of the former demon capital. Scampering through tunnels in the rubble, catching insects and lizards for food, only venturing to the surface on the rare days when the sandstorms stopped blowing from the wasteland.

And trying his hardest to avoid other demons. Veratrum had always been small and weak – perhaps the reason his parents had abandoned him. Encounters with others never turned out in his favor. At best, he might come out with his latest meal snatched out of his hands. At worst...it might take him months to recover.

The day he had met Hellebore was one of the few occasions his caution had failed him. Which had ultimately turned out for the better, but he'd had no way of knowing at the time. He'd run afoul of a gang of young demons, who after tearing off the flimsy rags of his clothing proceeded to beat him bloody.

Just as the leader lifted him by the hair, prepared to rip out his throat, another demon dropped from above and kicked her in the face. Howling, the leader released Veratrum, and he could only lie there and watch numbly as the newcomer took on the gang with only his fists and feet for weapons.

Veratrum had witnessed plenty of fights in the Pit, but none as vicious as this. The other demons barely got a chance to strike back. Blood splattered the filthy ground, then teeth, and finally broken-off horns. Only after that did the gang pathetically limp away.

When the newcomer approached, Veratrum had instinctively tried to crawl away. This demon might have defeated his enemies, but that hardly meant he was to be trusted. If anything, he only presented a greater danger.

The demon crouched before him and held out a hand. Veratrum cringed, preparing for a blow. Still, he couldn't help but notice how young this demon was, maybe a couple years older than himself at most. His hair was a wild mess, his face smeared with dirt and blood, but Veratrum had never seen anything like the gleam in his eyes before.

"Come on out of there," the demon had said. "I won't hurt you. My name's Hellebore, and I'm going to become the strongest demon in the Pit. Won't you join me?"

"I...but...but I'm weak," Veratrum whimpered, his voice raspy from disuse.

Hellebore's grin flashed brighter than the few rare glimpses Veratrum had caught of the sun. "I don't need your strength. Just your loyalty is enough."

Words nobody had ever spoken to him. Words that before this moment, he would never have imagined. What else could Veratrum have done?

So he had taken Hellebore's hand, and let Hellebore haul him to his feet. And with that, his new life had begun.

Hellebore made good on his promise: he did become the strongest. Too strong for the Pit to contain. So he left, taking Veratrum with him.

Together they joined the Infernal Legion, and together they climbed the ranks. Veratrum became stronger as well, discovering his own elemental abilities. Of course he could never match up to Hellebore, but it didn't matter. Hellebore didn't need his strength, only his loyalty.

Through it all, Veratrum held those words like a talisman in his heart. Even if Hellebore might have forgotten them, even if he berated Veratrum and constantly called him weak...at least Veratrum knew that he was still the General's most loyal follower.

Others might betray Hellebore, or use him as a stepping stone for their own ambitions. Not Veratrum. Only Veratrum placed Hellebore above all else.

Now the greatest test of his loyalty lay before him. No matter what, he would not fail.