Eternally Evil - Brothers' Battle I

Another Eternally Evil story

A harsh wind blew across the dead lands of Krethke, and dust flew forward, passing Fyrethil's feet.  He came here more often than he had when he had a kind soul.  Whenever he came here then, he would be mourning, but now, he reveled in the pure destructive look of the place.  This had been caused by him as well...he was responsible for the accidental destruction of his own homelands.  That was what happened when he lost control of his power.

He was expecting someone at the moment, his younger brother, Pyth had told him that he'd kill him if he didn't stop doing the things he was.  Fyrethil refused to listen to him, and as a result, Pyth set a date and he would follow through with it.

Footsteps.

A smile curled upon Fyre's face and he chuckled darkly, not bothering to turn around as the footsteps stopped only a few feet from where he stood.  "Do you have any idea how long I've been waiting here for you?"

"Five minutes?"

"Five hours..."  Fyre replied smartly before turning around and giving his long silver hair a flick.  "That makes you four hours and forty-five minutes late..."

"So sue me."

Fyrethil tisked at his brother's smart comment.  "Being a smart-a*s won't get you anywhere."

"No, but this will..."   Fyrethil was still not turned around, but he knew that his brother had lunged with a blade.  With lightning fast reflexes, Fyre's hand came out and grasped the blade firmly, letting out yet another dark chuckle.  "You know that was a very stupid thing to do..."

Harshly, Fyre pulled on the blade, making Pyth move closer to him and stuck out his leg.  Pyth let out a gasp as Fyre's foot dug into his gut and knocked the wind out of him.  Fyre then disarmed him, throwing the blade to the side and grabbing his arm, flipping him over his head to land on his knee.

Pyth let out a scream this time instead of a gasp.

"It is useless to try and stop me, dear brother, you know that you will only end up losing your life in the end.  Soul. And. All."

"No, I will not succumb to death or darkness, YOU will die!"

"Well, then I'd like to see you make it happen."

Fyrethil grabbed Pyth by the shoulders and tossed him into the air, then fired twenty energy blasts at his flying form.  Each blast hit Pyth full force and at full magical capacity.  The younger Fyrexetha brother fell to the ground, sizzling, and catching fire, bleeding from over a dozen different wounds.

Fyre didn't give him any chance to rest, almost immediately after Pyth hit the ground, more energy blasts greeted his return.  These sent him flying, rolling, and skidding at lest fifty feet.

"Pyth...why do you try?  Why?"