Chapter 14

Umbral Tide

Mags’ heart plummeted into her stomach as she stared at the beacon of light created by the warding stone. The blue light slashed through the night, an ominous warning that sent a chill down her spine. Not once had she’d seen the stone ignited during her time in Solstice, and she knew by the deep chill in her bones that it did not spell fortune for the town. Around her, the once lively tavern fell silent. People stepped outside, eyes wide with confusion and fear. Windows of nearby buildings creaked open, and murmurs of dread rippled through the gathering crowd.

She didn’t wait and watch. Mags bolted, her feet pounding against the cobblestones as she sprinted toward the eastern side of town. Her mind raced, thoughts focused on the children at the orphanage and she tried not to think of the worst case scenarios. The air was thick with panic, a palpable dread seeping into her bones.

As she neared the main road that cut through the center of town, she skidded to a halt, her breath catching in her throat. A surging tide of hungry shadows, almost tangible in their malevolence, blocked her path. The sea of Maldrath melted in and out of each other, clawing and gnawing at each surface and they surged forward, hungry. It was like being back in the Deep. She wondered, for a fleeting moment, if this was all an awful dream. But the screams of the townsfolk caught in the surge, their cries abruptly cut off as the shadows swarmed them, shattered any illusion of escape.

The tide of Maldrath poured down the street, their forms writhing and shifting, consuming everything in their path. Mags changed directions, cutting through narrow alleys between buildings. She needed to get to the orphanage and her sword, Mithra.

Smoke hung heavy in the air, the acrid scent of fire stinging her nostrils. The town was descending into chaos. Shouts of panic echoed around her, interspersed with the guttural growls of the Maldrath. She dodged another surge, narrowly avoiding the snapping jaws of a particularly large shade. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Finally, the orphanage loomed ahead, sitting alone at the eastern edge of town, like a forlorn witness to the violence being unleashed. Shadows slithered past the warding stone in droves, the enchanted stone offering no resistance to their dark advance. Mags crept towards the orphanage’s yard and accessed the building through the back door, relieved to find the building seemingly untouched. The doors to the bedrooms remained closed, the hallways eerily silent.

Mags rushed to her room, flinging open the chest at the foot of her bed and grabbing her belt and Mithra. She strapped on her belt and, before closing the chest, her gaze lingered on the egg-shaped artifact she recovered from the bowels of the Deep. It shimmered in the darkness, colors shifting behind the lattice of gold and silver runes. She swore she heard a heartbeat-like rhythm that hadn’t been there before, but dismissed it as her own in the stillness of the moment. Compelled by an inexplicable urge, she pocketed the egg, its warmth seeping through the fabric of her pants.

Returning downstairs, a tense silence gripped the orphanage. The aura of fear was thick, pressing against her skin. Near the foyer, she noticed one of the windows was open, the wooden shutter flapping in the night breeze. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she drew Mithra, the blade singing as it glided out of its sheath. Mithra’s pitch black blade seemed to drink any meager light in the room. Mags moved quickly but quietly, Mithra at the ready.

In the dark hallway, the silence was oppressive. One of the bedroom doors was ajar. The rooms were all closed before, I swear, she thought. She carefully approached the open door, her senses heightened, every muscle in her body tensed. She cracked the door open further, her breath catching as she peered inside.

Her blood ran cold. A Maldrath loomed over Marco, one of the older boys. Its elongated, shadowy hand wrapped around his face. Marco’s eyes were wide with terror, his breaths coming in frantic, muffled gasps. In the corner, Dunja cowered, her small frame trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. Dunja’s eyes were stuck on the tableau of horror playing out before her and she didn’t notice Mags flinging the door wide open.

Mags’ vision narrowed, her focus sharpening to a single point. She sprang into action, Mithra whispering through the air. The blade sliced through the Maldrath’s appendage with precision, severing it cleanly. The dismembered limb dissolved into a wisp of dark mist, and Marco fell back onto his bed, a choked sob escaping his lips.

The Maldrath twisted, its eyeless face turning toward Mags. It reached down with its remaining arm-like limb and ripped off the stump of the arm Mags had severed. The Maldrath tossed the arm to the ground, where it dissolved. With a guttural snarl, it lunged at her, its appendages morphing into jagged, spear-like shapes.

Mags was quicker. She moved with fluid grace, sidestepping the attack and bringing Mithra down in a sweeping arc. The black blade, imbued with ancient power, cleaved through the Maldrath’s torso. The creature let out a distorted scream, a sound that reverberated through the room like a thousand whispers. Mags thought it sounded like the chittering of thousands of little insect wings. Its form collapsed in on itself, disintegrating into black dust that swirled briefly before dissipating, leaving only a small, glistening aether core on the floor, no larger than one of her fingernails.

The room fell silent again, the oppressive atmosphere lifting slightly. Mags sheathed Mithra and turned to Marco, who was clutching his face, tears mingling with the dirt on his cheeks. She knelt beside him, her voice soft but urgent.

“Marco, are you hurt?”

He shook his head, still too shaken to speak. Mags placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before moving to Dunja, who was curled up in the corner, hugging her knees to her chest. Her eyes were wide with fear, her small body trembling.

“Dunja, it’s okay,” Mags said gently. “It’s gone now. You’re safe.”

Dunja looked up at her, her lip quivering. “Mags, I was so scared,” she whispered.

“I know, sweetheart. But you were brave. Both of you were.” Mags helped Dunja to her feet and then turned back to Marco. “Listen to me carefully. We don’t have much time. Marco, you need to wake the others. Get everyone to my room in the tower. Close the door and don’t open it for anyone but me, Sabo, or Vito. Do you understand?”

Marco sniffled, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I understand,” he said, his voice shaky but determined.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Good boy.” Mags gave him an encouraging nod. “Now go. Quickly.”

image [https://i.imgur.com/7P7JEZo.png]

The streets of Solstice were a battlefield. Fires blazed, casting flickering shadows on the buildings. Townsfolk ran screaming in every direction as Maldrath surged through the town, their dark forms creating a chilling image against the infernal light.

Mithra sang through the air, cutting down Maldrath that crossed her path. The black blade seemed to vanish in the darkness around it.

As she fought, Mags kept an eye out for Sabo and Vitomir, her thoughts racing. The beacon of light summoned by the warding stone was a stark reminder of their situation. They only needed to hold out until the Crown Coalition Forces arrived. The thought gave her a grim sense of hope, but she knew the wait would be grueling.

Turning a corner, she saw the familiar forms of Sabo and Vitomir up ahead, accompanied by Jakov, one of the town elders. They were huddled together, their expressions tense. Mags quickened her pace, dispatching another Maldrath as she closed the distance between them.

“Mags! How are the children?” Vitomir’s voice was a mix of relief and frustration.

“I went to the orphanage,” Mags replied, slightly out of breath. “The children are safe. I’ve told them to bunker down in the clock tower.”

Vitomir nodded, his worry easing slightly. “Good. That’s good.”

Sabo stepped forward, his brow furrowed. “We’re escorting Jakov to the town’s scrying mirror. We need to alert the Coalition of this incursion. I don’t think this town can last long the rate things are going.”

Mags nodded, her mind already shifting to the next task. “I’ll make sure people are getting inside and fortifying their homes. Solstice can survive this attack if we act quickly.”

The group exchanged a brief but meaningful glance. There was no time for further discussion. With a final nod, they separated, each heading in their designated direction.

Mags sprinted down the main street, the sounds of battle echoing around her. The air was thick with smoke, and the acrid scent of burning wood stung her nostrils. Houses were in various states of disrepair, some partially collapsed, others smoldering from Maldrath attacks. She plodded through puddles of dark liquid as gore pooled in the cobblestone streets. How many, she wondered, how many people are already dead? She quickly smothered that thought. No, think of how many people are still here to save.

“Get inside!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Board up your windows and doors! Stay away from the streets!”

Her commands were met with frantic nods and hurried movements as people rushed to secure their homes. Mags continued to run, her eyes scanning for any sign of immediate danger. She rounded another corner and came face to face with a group of Maldrath. Their inky forms twisted and writhed, their eyeless faces turning toward her. Burning red spheres twisted to life in what could only be described as the heads of the Maldrath. Then, they lunged.

Mithra was in her hand before she even thought about it, the blade a comforting weight. She charged at the creatures, her strikes swift and precise. Each swing of her sword sent another Maldrath dissolving into black dust, their aether cores clinking softly as they hit the ground.

With the immediate threat dispatched, Mags took a moment to catch her breath. The beacon of light from the warding stone still shone brightly, a stark contrast to the darkness enveloping the town. She knew they had to hold on. The Coalition would come, but they had to survive until then. How long will it take?

She pressed on, her thoughts returning to the children in the clock tower. They were safe for now, but the town was still in danger. She had to keep moving, had to keep fighting. Solstice’s survival depended on it.

As she ran, she heard a faint cry for help. Following the sound, she found a woman trapped beneath a destroyed cart. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hands scrabbling at the wood. Mags rushed to her side, using all her strength to lift the wooden cart, just enough for the woman to crawl out.

“Thank you,” the woman gasped, tears streaming down her face.

Mags let the cart fall to the ground with a loud thud and groan of splintering wood. “Get inside and stay hidden,” Mags urged, helping her to her feet. “We’ll get through this.”

The woman nodded and stumbled toward the nearest house, disappearing inside. Mags continued her patrol, her mind focused on the task at hand. She could hear the distant sounds of combat, the clash of steel and the guttural growls of the Maldrath.

She encountered more townsfolk as she moved, directing them to safety and offering words of encouragement. The sense of urgency was palpable, but so was the determination in the peoples’ eyes. Solstice was a small town, but its people were strong. They would not go down without a fight. Mags’ heart swelled slightly with pride at the thought. There was nothing ordinary folk could do to destroy Maldrath, and not much more to repel them. It took courage to act in the face of fear incarnate.

Mags made her way towards the forge, her voice a steady command as she instructed people to get inside and shelter in place. She urged those too far from home to head to Pod Starim instead. She spotted the farming couple from earlier, frantically trying to get their cart tethered onto a giant beetle, hoping to flee the town.

“It’s not safe to try and escape!” she shouted over the chaos, rushing to their side. The couple looked at her, their eyes wide with fear.

“But the shades—” the young man began.

“Pod Starim is safer,” Mags insisted. “Trust me. Get back in there now.” Two Maldrath charged the couple, but Mags was there to block their path, cutting them down with several practiced swings.

The couple exchanged a glance and nodded, abandoning their escape attempt to head back to the tavern. Mags watched them go for a moment, then continued her path towards the forge.

The forge was a hub of frantic activity. Frane, the blacksmith, was handing out farming equipment and makeshift weapons to a group of men. The heat from the forge mingled with the chill of the night, creating a surreal, almost hellish atmosphere. Mags was surprised to see men and women in Blackfire colors among the crowd, helping to direct traffic and forming human barricades to protect women and children. She had more than half-expected them to hide in their manor alongside Kruno and Radmilo, but was happy to see where their loyalties lay when push came to shove.

Her eyes widened further when she saw Kruno himself, sitting atop a black-feathered garuda, directing his men to put out one of the fires that had been started in the chaos. Radmilo stood off to the side, pumping furiously at a water spout, filling buckets that he handed to the men and women. It was a sight she hadn’t anticipated, the mercenary lord and his second-in-command taking charge in the defense of Solstice. Assuming we all survive this night, I’ll need to process this all at a later time.

Maldrath were repelled away from the forge, but Mags knew this defense couldn’t last long. Mundane weapons could only do so much against these dark creatures. She spotted a man in Blackfire colors making his way down the street towards the human barricade when a Maldrath, in the distorted, twisted shape of a human figure, leapt from the shadows and onto his back. The man fell onto his belly, struggling to break free from the Maldrath’s claws. Without hesitation, she charged forward, Mithra slicing through the air. She dispatched the creature with swift, precise strikes, its form dissolving into black dust. The man looked up, face dirty and marked with tear tracks. He took Mags’ hand as she helped him to his feet.

The man gasped, his relief palpable. “I thought I was a goner there,” he said. “Thank y-”

He was cut off as a shadow swooped down from overhead, wind whipping Mags’ face, and snatched him away in a blur. He was yanked into the air, his screams of terror echoing as he was carried into the sky, until going ominously silent as his form disappeared into the blackness of night.

Mags looked up, her heart pounding. Shadowy figures filled the sky above the smoke clouds, their bat-like wings flapping in the moonlight. Flying Maldrath. The sight filled her with a new, icy fear. She had never imagined they could take to the air.

“This can’t get any worse,” she muttered to herself, her mind racing with the implications of airborne Maldrath. The ground battle was hard enough, but now they had to contend with attacks from above.

And then, as if answering her dread, the night sky tore apart. Angels appearing above Solstice.