Carpathian 20 - Dark Slayer

commanding.
    He knew words were powerful. Names. He heard them call to the high mage, the name reverberating through his mind, demanding he leave, demanding their bitter enemy leave and not return. He heard the ancient Carpathian language, the beat of his heart, his pulse, and knew he wasn’t alone.
    Gregori and Ivory walked with him, striding toward the parasitic fragment with absolute confidence and mastery. He actually felt the moment the splinter rolled into a ball, desperate to escape the trueness and purity of the cleansing words. Once again it was Gregori who drove the fragment into the holding prison with the first one.
    Ivory’s song changed. Her voice grew soft and loving as she called on memories of her lost childhood and strong brothers holding her close. She remembered the love she had for her family, intense and consuming. She poured that love into her song. Her voice was powerful and persuasive, bringing tears to the eyes of all who heard.
    Heart
    that
    is
    pure
    with
    body
    worn ,
    I
    find
    you
    beautiful
    standing
    tired
    and
    alone .
    I
    give
    you
    my
    heart,
    I
    will
    shed
    your
    tears ,
    Take
    my
    hand,
    I will
    hold
    all
    of
    your
    fears .
    I
    give
    you
    my
    word,
    no
    bindings
    attached ,
    I give my love freely so no harm may attack .
    Having fought a long war, withstanding many sorrows , Know that though you are weary, I am your tomorrow .
    Cling to my words, hear the song that I sing , Let it sink deep that you may find peace once again .
    She changed her words, singing tribute to a warrior, strong and pure and all alone in a world of madness. Honor drove him, love of his sister, of his people, a code that he refused to break no matter what was done to him. She sang the song of tribute to a warrior, love pouring into every note. The more she moved through Razvan’s memories and saw his life, the way he struggled to maintain honor in the madness surrounding him, the way he barely clung to sanity when he faced what Xavier had forced his body to do, the killings, impregnating women, feeding from his own children, stabbing his aunt. Tears choked her, and love flowed from her heart to his, filling his until there was no other emotion but love. The splinter fled, unable to stand the genuine, untainted emotion that Xavier could never feel. Gregori surrounded the fragment with his strength and herded it to join the others in darkness.
    Ivory knew saving Razvan’s soul was her task alone. She was his other half. His soul was hers as well. An intruder had invaded and dared to dwell, to take what was rightfully hers.
    Razvan had not claimed her, had not joined their souls together, but each time they were near, she felt the pull between them, strong and intense. She changed her song again, this time singing from her soul to his, calling to her true lifemate to accept her, to join with her, to accept her merging.
    Her light would be too much for someone as evil as Xavier.
    Light to dark, dark to light .
    My soul to yours together we fight .
    Half of a whole, together one .
    Mend and heal for two now are one .
    Blood, body, bone mended, together our light it shone .
    Light burst through Razvan’s body, bright and pure, the light of an innocent soul—that of his lifemate. Though he had not claimed her, their souls, two halves of the same whole, shimmered with dazzling brilliance, side by side, only a thin gap between them. Her half seemed to illuminate his as she moved her soul over his, and then merged, letting her light go into his darkness. The fragment ran before the light, smoldering with smoke around the edges as if burned, the cells shrinking away so that Gregori could herd it to join the others.
    Razvan felt complete. Whole. The sensation of their merged souls shook him. He felt tiny threads weaving them back together as the two halves recognized one another and reached for what had been lost. He knew her intimately, every struggle, every part of her determination and her courage, all that she was, what she was. He held her safe and she held him safe. For the first time since he was a young boy he felt he could breathe freely.
    Gregori began to chant. The words were in the ancient language, a healer’s greatest command, greatest gift, to force out the darkness of evil from Razvan. His voice was powerful, vibrating through both Razvan and Ivory, a tool of immense strength.
    Kuuluam hän ku köd és hän ku Karpatiiak altenak—I take that which