"Caliane-" he huffed, hearing her body fall to the floor. He had not pushed her hard enough for that, and in his panic he stole a glance. He could just glimpse the fire flickering on and off along her arm... no idea what that meant, but he did not have the time to marvel.
She could not die. The fire angel had already achieved so much greatness in her short life. That the wonders of her future should be cut short... it did not bear imagining. "Stay alive," he whispered, more as a quiet prayer than directed at
Caliane, as he set his jaw and took his sword in both hands.
The dog bared dripping fangs, and its belly contracted with a sickening gurgle to bring more caustic bile to its throat. Tadrielus rushed to close the distance between them, using his wings to push forward. The creature seemed caught off guard by his speed, and it flinched just long enough for Tadrielus to cleave its neck with a flash from his sword. A splash of black ichor flew from its severed throat, searing black holes through the pure white feathers of Tadrielus' wings. He cried out sharply as a glob bit into his bicep.
The panther still squinted, but it looked upon him with watering eyes. With a dip into his reserves, Tadrielus pushed cleansing energy through his sword, extending its reach three-fold in a dazzling downward strike. With the cat bisected, he skidded to his knees beside Caliane.
He took hold of her arm and immediately released it with a curse. It was unbearably hot, the soulfire making no distinction between him and the venom it fought. Old, sage eyes darted along the black spiderwebs that advanced steadily, albeit slowly, for Caliane's shoulder.
He checked his own arm. There was an angry, hideous red welt where the bile had burned him, but no darkness crept from it. Whatever evil affected her had not been in the caustic fluids of the dog-demon. Counting himself lucky, Tadrielus placed his palms over Caliane's flesh.
He was able to channel a good burst of healing magic before her withdrew his hands, now reddened. The darkness had receeded a few inches, but immediately resumed its charge. Another curse, an old one, and a spark of anger pushed the old
avariel to press his hands to the burning flesh again. He forced more magic into Caliane's limb, and forced purifying light to swirl and mix with the channeling. If this darkness did not yield to the Goddess' gift, then it was no demonic force of this world nor
Pandemonium's gates.