(A/N: Wow, it's been a long time. I honestly don't know what to say. With college pulling up, I kind of just forgot about this story. Now with Mrs.Rona showing her face, I have time to finally finish this. Something many of you probably won't know is that I'm studying film, so I plan on finishing these last two chapters so I can turn this story into a script & work on a second draft that'll include more time dedicated to Diana, a more thought out plot (not going to lie, I was making this up as I went), & whatever else I feel the need to add. But without further ado, the last three chapters of The Burden of Breaking Hearts. I hope you enjoy!)

Hernon's steps are quick and sure. He controls his breathing as he runs through the halls of the castle; the map he'd studied with Darion before the heist etched into is mind.

Everything in sight is in disarray. Tables once holding decorative displays are now broken and strewn throughout the halls. Weapons litter the floor, their owners-- all dressed in the uniform of the royal guard-- crumpled on the ground not far from them. Where ever guards cover the floors, black streaks of dark magic cover the adjacent walls, ceilings, and even the bodies themselves.

From the looks of things, not many guards escaped the miserable deaths brought on by Raum.

Letting curiosity get the best of him, Hernon slows down to kneel next to a body. He almost recoils at the sight, but holds his ground. Hernon was sure the man lying before him wasn't any older than he was, but now he looked as if he'd been alive for a century. Every inch of exposed skin is wrinkled with webs of black stretching out over it. He mouth is agape, a scream of terror frozen in time. A black vapor curls from his open mouth into the air. His limbs are pulled in close and twisted at sickening angles.

Hernon quickly straightens back up, his breathing slightly quicker than it was before. He takes off running, his thoughts racing. Hernon knew for a fact that he was in over his head, but he refused to be deterred. All he had to do was protect one person long enough for Darion to return.

One person.

Hernon doesn't slow down at the sight of the doors to the throne room, he speeds up. The doors fling open with a kick from Hernon. He enters the room, arrow already drawn as he scans the room.

"Identify yourself!" The king's sword is drawn and pointed towards Hernon. Despite the two having an entire throne room between them and the other man having the long distance weapon, the king doesn't falter.

Hernon makes his way to the center of the room, rotating around to make sure he doesn't miss anything. "I don't think you want me to identify myself." He lowers his weapon, the room clear. Hernon faces the kings and bows, doing his best to remove any mockery from the movement. He fails miserably. "Just know that I'm here to protect you and it looks like I've made it in time."

"A king doesn't need protection." The man lowers his sword, the distrust remaining in his eyes.

"I would agree if the person coming after you didn't just use dark magic to release a demon from hell."

The king's eyes squint ever so slightly. "You look familiar."

"Let me give you a hint." Hernon puts his hands behind his back. "I didn't steal the jewels!"

"You're the jewel thief that escaped your execution!"

"Correction, I'm the framed  man who escaped my execution." Hernon removes his hand from behind his back, walking towards the king, but not daring to get within the sword's range. "Although I did steal books from your library, but your executioner helped me do that, so I don't think that should count."

"Darion?"

"Yes! The powerful magic user with the beautiful face."

Confusion replaces any anger on the king's face. He goes to respond, but an icy voice that Hernon was already tired of hearing comes from the entryway into the throne room.

"This is the only person you have to protect you?" Ala strides into the room with confidence, not even batting an eye at the sword and arrow now trained on her. "Honestly, this is embarrassing."

"Why are you doing this?"

Ala gives a look of confusion. "Power; why else?"

"That was honestly a stupid question."

Hernon let his arrow fly, immediately turning towards the king. A shield of pure flames rises up in front of Ala turning the arrow into ashes. Hernon pulls the king behind the throne just in time for them to avoid being turned into piles of burnt bones.

"Where's Darion?" the king calls out.

"When I mentioned the demon, did you think we just left him to roam the courtyard?" Hernon pulls the bottle given to him out of his pocket. The moment the flames cease is the moment Hernon emerges from behind the throne. He sprints straight for Ala and she allows him to approach, a taunting smile on her face. 

They enter hand to hand combat, the two swinging out and weaving through punches. Hernon-- making an arc with his bow to provide himself some space-- pops the bottle open and allows the contents to splash out over the both of them. Ala ignores the liquid, taking advantage of an opening and grabbing Hernon's arms, flipping him over onto the ground. Hernon groans as the air rushes from his lungs.

Ala pushes her arms out, but nothing emerges from her hands. "What the hell was that liquid?" Hernon simply chuckles as a response. Ala steps back, raising her leg into the air. Hernon's eyes go wide and he rolls from under the dropping leg.

Hernon quickly pushes himself to his feet. He jumps back at the whistle of a blade, narrowly avoiding death. Ala persists, swinging the sword time and time again. He jumps to one side then the other before being forced to quickly duck down. Hernon can't avoid the kick aimed for his chest, flying to his back with yet another groan of pain. Ala twirls the sword before bringing it down towards the helpless man on the ground.

Clang!

Sparks fly as the king's sword blocks Ala's from killing Hernon. Ala stumbles back from the sudden attack. The king quickly helps Hernon to his feet, his grip strong. As Ala recovers from the shock, the two men face her.

Ethan's leg won't stop bouncing.

The stagecoach is silent. There were no words to be spoken between the royal family, so they did the next best thing: stare at each other. The silence is cut by small gasps when the stagecoach rumbles from a bird's cry. A cry from a bird of no ordinary size or origin.

Ethan's leg freezes. Slowly, he rises to his feet and moves to the window in the stagecoach's door. He looks through the glass, looking left, right, above. There's nothing but the two stagecoaches full of guards trailing slightly behind on each side. He begins to doubt he'd heard anything in the first place.

A flash of black causes him to whip his head to the left. He turned just in time to witness the demon drop from the sky, swooping through the stagecoach as if it were nothing but a pile of leaves. The stagecoach dissolves into flying splinters of wood, the guards inside tumbling through the air.

Raum begins to shrink into his human form as he approaches the second stagecoach of guards, crashing through the doors. A beat passes in silence. The stagecoach erupts, black wings curling from within. The screams are faint, but they still manage to reach Ethan's ears. Raum gives a strong beat of his wings, hurtling himself into the sky as the remains of the stagecoach collapses, kicking up a cloud of dirt.

Ethan stumbles back from the window realizing there was only one stagecoach left. "Get away from the door!" His family doesn't hesitate to follow instructions and crowd as far away from the door as they possibly can.

There's a loud crack as the doors break apart, Raum coming through and landing on the floor. He looks up at the royal family, a smile on his face. The black tendrils covering his body are no longer just pulsing, they're moving, snaking their way back and forth across his body. The stagecoach fills with a buzz that seems to penetrate every cell of Ethan's body.

"I love you all," Ethan mutters. He lunges for the demon, swinging out. Raum's movement was so quick that Ethan couldn't even begin to register it until the hand at his throat was lifting him off the ground.

When Raum speaks, the pitch of his voice is so low that the sound rumbles through Ethan's body. "Your effort was valiant, but nonetheless idiotic." The demon tosses him through where the doors once stood as if he were nothing but a wad of trash. 

Ethan's eyes widen at the ground racing beneath him. He steals one last glance at the stagecoach leaving him behind before closing his eyes, awaiting the impact that would surely kill him.

It never comes.

Instead, two arms wrap around him, the wind suddenly blowing at unthinkable speeds. He opens his eyes to find himself in the arms of the executioner. Ethan's stomach drops as the wind propels them up into the air before they drop towards the stagecoach. One arm leaves from behind him and a warmth follows. Before he knows it, he's standing in the stagecoach again; a smoking hole above him and the demon, once again, in front of him.

"Get behind me!" Ethan does as Darion tells him.

A tendril shoots from Raum's body, but Darion is quite to shoot it down with fire before commanding the wind to launch him at the demon. The world opens up around Darion as he tackles Raum out of the stagecoach. Darion releases the demon and hurls a ball of fire at him, pushing him to the ground.

A trail of clouds rise as Raum rolls over the ground, eventually skidding to a stop. The wind lightly drops Darion onto the ground. He draws his sword.

Raum pushes himself up onto his arms and knees, looking at Darion with nothing but hate in his eyes. "When I defeat you, I won't kill you, no, that'll be too easy." He staggers to his feet. "I'll have you slowly suffocate just like your wife did." Darion's face twitches, but he stands his ground. "And then I'll feast on your friend with the bow and arrow." He expands, his face growing a beak, his arms morphing into wings, feathers sprouting from his skin.

Darion feels the flame burning deep inside him and directs it towards the sword, the blade catching flame as if it were made of wood.

Raum spreads his wings, roaring out as tendrils of darkness slash out at Darion. With deadly precision, Darion cuts tendril after tendrils, carefully jumping to avoid tendrils not caught by his blade. Rolling across the ground, Darion narrowly avoids a tendril swiping over him. He raises his sword and cut through another coming from above. Darion allows his magic to shoot out, the flames scorching the demon's face.

The giant stumbles as he let out a screech of pain. Darion advances. He's quick to roll beneath a swinging wing, blindly slashing out with his blade, the screech telling him he managed to hit something. Raum whips around, biting down where he felt Darion. 

No one's there.

Darion drops down from above, landing on the demons back. He roars out a battle cry as he brings the sword down-- burning as bright as the sun-- into the back of Raum. Darion couldn't even describe the sound coming from Raum as he was flung from his back, Aslander being left behind.

"I need more," Darion mutters to himself as he gets back to his feet. The buzz of the black magic is pulsing now, the demon slowly losing his strength.

The buzzing.

Darion thinks of the only thing he knows is hotter than any fire. He closes his eyes, focusing on converting his magic into something he's only conjured a few times before. His senses are heightened as his skin begins to tingle, his hair floating up from his arms. He can feel Raum charging for him, the ground beneath him buckling with every step. Darion's eyes remain closed. He raises an arm towards the sky and a new buzzing fills the air.

Darion brings his arm down and with it comes lightning.

There's a mighty CLAP of thunder as the lightning strikes Raum. The demon is slammed to the ground, but continues to squirm and claw for Darion. Darion opens his eyes; they glow a bright blue. He raises an arm and brings it down again, calling another bolt of lightning from the heavens.

CLAP!

Darion motions as if he's hurling a ball of fire, but lightning shoots from his hand instead. He flung bolt after bolt before releasing a constant stream of electricity that flows straight from him and into Raum. As Darion marches closer, the lightning soon morphs into blue flames, then orange, and then nothing. It doesn't matter, Raum has reverted to his human state, curled up on the ground, twitching. Aslander lays next to what was left of the demon.

Darion pulls  out a vial of the dark violet liquid he's all to familiar with, pouring it over his hand. He shivers as his hand grows cold, but wastes no time before plunging it into Raum's chest. The demon tenses, groaning as Darion moves his hand through the bones and muscle. His hand doesn't pull out a heart, but instead the dagger Ala had stabbed into Crestfall's back.

Regardless, Darion coaxes his magic up his arm, ice covering the dagger. As the dagger freezes over, ice creeps up Raum's body, his skin turning blue as his breath becomes wisps of fog.

"This is for Diana."

Darion squeezes. Both the dagger and the body shatter, crumbling into nothing more than piles of ice.

Darion doesn't smile as he picks his sword up from the ground, sheathing it. He closes his eyes, gathering his strength for a split second. He looks to the castle far off in the distance.

The wind carries him into the sky.