Streaks of Purple Saga Volume One, Heather Ray [i love reading .TXT] 📗

platform, tapping her fingertips against the palm of her opposite hand in mocking applause.

"I must say, I'm impressed," Rita confessed with a vicious smirk. "The power you managed to command was more than I expected of a human... especially one so young. You really were more than a match for my Green Ranger." She sighed, tapping her chin as she mused. "Well, I knew he wasn't really ready for battle just yet. The evil was so new to him... I had

wanted him to get used to it." She then threw another cold grin at the helpless Purple Ranger. "But you took matters out of my hands, I'm afraid."

Kreia's dark eyes widened with sudden panic. "What do you mean?"

Rita shrugged, as if helpless to alter his destiny. "I'm afraid he is valueless now," she explained. She sauntered toward Erol, who lay perfectly helpless. A lump closed Kreia's throat as Rita kneeled beside him.

"He really was a wonderful champion," she lamented, "He had a great future... much better than you pitiful humans. He would've been the champion warrior of the greatest empire to be forged in millennia! But now that you've destroyed the Sword of Darkness, I'm wary of trying that little trick again. I'll have to get a new Green Ranger... maybe one that's not already attached to the Rangers. He'll be harder for the Rangers to confuse."

She nodded, pleased with her decision. "Time to come out!"

Erol groaned quietly, and a flash of energy erupted from his limp hand. Rita smirked as the Dragon coin fell into her palm, glowing with faint power.

Kreia gasped. "You corrupted the Power!" she shouted in fury, "Not only did you entrance Erol, but you polluted the Green coin!"

Rita flashed another wicked smile. "You're a fool to believe I had no such capability," she pointed out, slipping the coin into the folds of her gown, "The Green Ranger is mine

forever! You silly Rangers have given me the greatest weapon I could ever hope for! Congratulations!"

Rita then snapped her fingers, causing Kreia to fall gracelessly to the ground. The Purple Ranger hissed indignantly, rising to her feet and immediately falling into a fighting stance. Rita cackled wildly.

"Brace yourself, little girl," she mocked, stretching her arms above her head, "It's going to be a bumpy ride!"

Kreia gasped, finding herself forced to follow that suggestion as a monsoon erupted in the very heart of the lunar palace's throne room.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Her eyes slid open very slowly. The light over her head assaulted her vision, making her grimace and close her lids abruptly.
But her watcher didn't miss the small sign of consciousness, and a warm hand grasped hers tightly.

"Ah, my muse! You've returned to us!"

A small smile quirked the Pink Ranger's lip, and she opened her eyes to gaze at Sener. "I know I didn't invite you to my room," she whispered,

"So what are you doing here?"

A frown marred his dark complexion. "You don't remember what happened?"

Cherise blinked, slowly rising to sit on her bed. She rubbed her forehead, weeding through jumbled memories. Her eyes widened when she put everything together. "Yes! It was Kreia!"

Sener wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Start from the beginning," he coaxed.

"She awoke and begged to see Regita," she recalled, "I'm not sure what she did, but she tried to communicate with him. She touched her hands to his head, and it seemed like she reached him. Then, some kind of energy emerged, and she... she struck me!"

Sener paled, cradling Cherise tighter. "What kind of energy?"

"It was purple," Cherise elaborated, "and it looked like Kreia was pulling it out of him!"

The Pink Ranger shivered at the memory. "I... I don't know what's become of Kreia," she said quietly, her head bowed with exhaustion, "Ever since Erol vanished, she has become... a stranger."

The Black Ranger nodded his consent, his arms tightening around the young woman who had managed to claim his heart so completely with her intriguing mixture of shy pride. As one of the only two female Power Rangers, it was easy to understand her concern for the Purple Ranger.

They weren't best friends, but they were quite close... almost sisters.
The betrayal had cut Cherise far deeper than she would care to admit.

"She's out of control," Cherise decided, her face hardening as resolve took her, "We must rein her in. As her friends, it is our duty to save her from herself."

Sener sighed quietly. "We are too late to save her," he confessed,

"Kreia has taken all power from our hands. She left for the moon several hours ago."

Cherise swallowed. "Alone? What insanity has possessed her to throw her life away?"

Sener's lip curled into an almost imperceptible smile. It was by no means a smile of joy, or even amusement. It was a smile of understanding. For he knew that, despite all logic and caution, he would choose the same course as Kreia had if something had happened to Cherise.

So very few people could truly understand the biting torture of having one's heart so hopelessly dashed. The only way to recover from such a loss was to put an end to the questions and doubts.

To lose Cherise to the grave would be agony... but to lose her to an unknown fate, quite possibly worse than death... that would be worse than all the obscure depths of the Underworld.

Sener frowned as he pushed the icy thoughts from his mind. Now was no time to reflect on some horrid nightmare he could only pray would not darken his soul. Now, two dear friends were likely fighting for their very lives.

"Come," he stated, rising to his feet. He offered his hand to her. "We must rejoin the other Rangers. Zale is in the Command Center with Alpha, trying to get some reading on the events transpiring on the moon. Kazu and Linis are tending to Regita."

"How is he?" Cherise murmured.

"He is dead," Sener reported quietly. "We can only hope Kazu and Linis gain some insight as to what Kreia did to him to drink the very essence of life from his body."

Cherise shuddered once again, the image of Kreia leaning over Regita still fresh in her mind. And then her friend had turned her terrifying power against her... without any warning.

There were legends of such beings that stole the life out of victims.

Whether through the drinking of blood, or some other soul-stealing ritual.

That dear young Kreia, once such an innocent child, could become such an abomination was the ultimate terror.

What has become of you?

Chapter Twenty-Three

He awoke to the screeching sound of bloody rage. Mixed into the chaos were shouts of distress, and the unmistakable whistle of energy bolts singing through the air.

His body felt heavy, and mysteriously void. As if something had been torn from his soul, leaving a hollow cavity in its wake. He pushed aside the queasy feeling of emptiness, desperately trying to piece together the fractured memories.

He did recall quite clearly speaking with Rita that morning. He remembered a room of darkness, with flickering candles and an eerie voice whispering some alien mantra.

Dimly, the sight of Kreia flashed into his mind. But not the image he had so often dreamed about during his long sentence. Rather than glowing in the beauty of the moonlight, she was hanging from his own hand, blood dripping from a terrible gash that would surely scar her skin forever.

His stomach retched at the very thought. That couldn't have really

happened...

A wave of ice crashed into his entire frame when he lifted his head just enough to see what was happening before him.

"Give it up, Kreia! You already knew

you were no match for me!"

The Purple Ranger was silent, ignoring the taunts from the ancient sorceress. Her entire concentration was settled into the flickering force bubble that protected her body from the torrent of bolts streaking from the witch's scepter.

Erol swallowed, forcing back the bile that surged up his throat. He had never seen Rita use her scepter... she only walked around with it as if it were some kind of trophy. But now, she had focused her well of dark energies into the golden rod, sending crackling energies into the air that threatened all life on the moon.

Erol had regained the presence of mind to recognize the crisis. He nimbly rolled further away from the conflict, jade eyes flashing with purpose as he absorbed his surroundings. The throne room, constructed entirely of durable granite and marble, was in shambles. Huge holes pot-marked the ground, and deep gouges in the walls gave testimony to the powers that fought before him.

As for the combatants... Rita seemed utterly thrilled, her face flushed with the excitement and adrenaline rush that accompanied a true challenge. She cackled like one possessed, her flowing silver hair tumbling from confinement and whirling about in the cyclone her potent energies generated. She seemed to have avoided any physical harm, for no marks cut her skin, nor tore her gown. If anything, she was absolutely reveling in the battle at hand.

Not so for Kreia. She shivered constantly, as if battling an inner cold as well as the force without. Perhaps, Erol realized with sudden horror, she had already expended her own abilities, and had been forced to tap into the deepest recesses of her soul to give her the strength to remain standing. And she was only barely

standing... shaking with strain and exhaustion, her hair fluttering in madness behind her. She struggled against the forcible winds Rita had generated, but it was clear she was losing ground. She couldn't even manage to hold her position... the winds slowly pushed her ever backwards.

Rita's jubilant cackle finally died, all mirth leaving her face. "Well, Honey, this isn't much fun anymore," she sighed, waving her hand negligently, "I really do appreciate the visit... I get so few guests these days."

Kreia frowned deeper, her hands falling