“Psionic or psychic energy is simultaneously a well understood but equally mysterious phenomenon in the realm of magick studies. To boil it down to its essence, is the application of mana manipulation which disrupts the cognitive functions of a target. For most beings, this results in temporary amnesia, confusion, or even loss of motor functions. For beings resistant to such effects (of which we have no way of determining beyond higher brain functions i.e beings above our statute or powerful individuals possessing a strong will) they might experience lightheadedness, nausea, minor bouts of anxiety.”
- Magister Klaudia Wittman, Mage Circle of The Pale Star, “Treatise On Arcane Processes and Formulas - Section: Psionic and Psychic Explainations of Arcane Power
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The cold frost nipped at her skin like a bed of spikes. Each brush of the frigid air made her very hairs stand on end as she shivered. Her breath floated in front of her, under the din of a pale blue sky. Flakes of frost danced past her eyes, a few even landing on her skin, little perfectly formed flakes turning into globlues of water.
Sophie’s fingers touched the snow she lay on and her body finally shot to life with a start. She pushed herself into a sitting position then promptly leaned over her sides and dry heaved. She nearly lay back down from the displeasure of her stomach but nothing exited her mouth. Just the cold, dry air that continued to taunt her.
As she slowly caught her breath and regained some small amount of composure, her ears twitched. Beyond the howling of the wind and the hurried dance of the snow, she couldn’t hear anything. When she looked around, she saw no signs of life either. An eerie sensation washed over her as she forced herself up from the ground. Taking an awkward step forward, she found nothing amiss. Nothing besides the snow that sank underneath her boot.
More disconcerting, she found no traces of anything beyond the white maw that greeted her. No trees, no corpses, no sign of anything beyond more snow. Making one last attempt to scan her surroundings, she came to an unfortunate conclusion. She had no idea where she was. The only thing she knew was that the false God Arantos had attacked her senses, likely having dragged her somewhere mentally.
Rebuilding her own resolve, she tried one last tactic and pinched herself, as if the cold wasn’t enough. To her disappointment, she felt the pinch but nothing changed. No sudden awakening, no rousing from a deep sleep. She shivered a little before watching her own foggy breath dispersing in the air. Damn.
Continuing to plod forwards, she endured the harsh snow. What was once a just beyond gentle snowfall had slowly increased in severity until the wind whipped against her exposed skin. She tried to swallow some saliva but found her mouth quickly drying from the frost.
Her foot suddenly broke apart more snow underneath than she thought and her eyes widened. With little time to prepare, her legs buckled and she fell.
Snow, ice and coldness enveloped her. Buffs of snow flying into her face and up her nose. Her armor barely helped as she continued tumbling. Pain, aches, and more chills wracked her body as the flurry of white blinded her. She had lost all sense of direction, unsure if she was sliding, falling, rolling, or whether she was sideways or upside down.
A sharp pain shot through her skull as she felt herself coming to a halt. She almost let out a groan when a wave of loosened snow collapsed onto her, most ending up in her mouth as she started to choke. Clawing for air, she began panicking until she felt the slightly loosened leathers that she wore. Uncaring of any consequences, she violently yanked it around her head so that she was covered and then forced her fingers into her mouth in an attempt to vomit out what blocked her airways.
As snow and puke flowed out, she quickly maneuvered past the splotch and discarded her armor, using it as both a marker for where she had been and to avoid getting dirtier than she was. Colder and weaker than before, she needed to establish where she was and tried to climb out of the snowdrift that she had fallen into.
Letting out a tired gasp, she didn’t when she had dug her way out. Only that it felt even more chilly than before. For the frost now bit into her bones and were slowly overwhelming her senses.
Then she saw it. A color besides white. A blackened greyish plume of smoke. She didn't know what it was or even where it was. Only that she was freezing and smoke likely meant something burning. Whether it was embers or a bonfire. She now had a goal and a direction. Still seemingly alive, she took a few hasty breaths before setting off. Most definitely a trap. But what choice do I have? Onwards it is.
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“It is what’s left.” The unpleasant whisper entered her ears.
She let out a low growl. In spite of the shivering, the echoes of the false God angered her on an instinctual level. She couldn’t help but share the entity’s distaste for this being.
Yet it had brought her to the land of her nightmares. And evidently a place where it had seen. For she recognised the ruins. The burned down church, the ruined houses and buildings. It was the place in which she had died a hundred times and watched others suffer just as much.
But it was different. There were no mutated demons and creatuers. No jagged limbed monstrosities prowling the street. No guards, no humans, no screams of help or even a whimper. Just a thick blanket of snow and buildings in a greater state of disrepair than even during the siege of her memories. It was sobering, even, to see the place her friend had called home and likely already put behind her. A place filled with suffering and loss. Empty.
It was eerily tranquil beyond the whistling of the wind. A desolate land with nary a soul left, good or ill. The aftermath of what she had seen all those times.
“Your memories. Filled with this place. A false construct for a false puppet. Look. Look upon and see the results of your struggles. Of the Void’s promise. Nothing.”
Arantos’s rumbling sent terrific aches rocking her mind. It was like a monster that tore at her soul just to simply make her understand. At least it gave her an idea of what was happening. It’s using my memories to show me something. She thought to herself.
She ran her hands against the stone rubble. Must’ve been decades, considering Mila was just a kid then. She sighed, stars above.
Unlike with It, she couldn’t see a physical representation of the Death God’s anywhere around her. Though she chalked this up to mostly being an invasion of her thoughts rather than an outright confrontation. Ugh, right, the demon. Need to get back. The mana core.
“This place. It appears often in echoes of your mind.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
He’s not even hiding that he’s poking in places he has no right too.
She didn’t know a God could snicker. But the intense pain that nearly made her double over was proof enough that it was a question she didn’t need answered. She scratched at her scalp in an attempt to lessen the pain but to no avail.
“When my worshippers found this place. It is, as you see, a ruin. An echo of a failed promise.”
Though she initially dismissed him. She paused as the words rang around in her mind. Found this place?
“What do you mean, found this place?” Sophie hesitantly asked, her ragged breathing interspersed by chatting teeth.
She felt the surge of power radiating inside her as the false God was evidently intrigued at her question. It practically pried open her mind before settling for what she felt was a shrug. His response made her violently ill and she attempted to throw up once more to little effect.
“As I said. A ruin, you impudent puppet. Had I known of its significance to you and the devourer, I’d had destroyed it myself.”
Sophie snarled and settled for a frown. She tried her best to massage her aching temples and remained silent. Talking directly to Arantos was liable to liquify her brain, or so she felt by the stinging headache. Leaning against a wall for support, she took a few seconds to catch her breath.
Her sweat practically froze onto her arms and forehead and it only added to her irritation. But the false God had mentioned the town. This was in fact Mila’s town, only a decade and a few years into the future. And he had passed by. But clearly he saw something that intrigued him. Otherwise why the hells would he put me here of all places.
Whatever reason he had to bring her here, she wasn’t getting out that easily. But she felt a strange sense of nostalgia and confidence. Whether it was from the countless times trying to fight, escape, flee, or save whoever she could. She had a decent layout of the town in the back of her mind. She let out a defeated sigh and pushed herself off a ruined wall. Might as well see if I can find anything useful here. Maybe a trace of the void to get me out of this damned mess.
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Outside Krenonian Arena, Arteria
“Take a squad to assist the injured.” Inquisitor Cross commanded.
The templar knight commander shot the inquisitor a snappy salute before turning to face his men.
“Alright lads, this way. Secure this area, rest of you on me.” Knight Commander Rosenfeld barked.
“Yes sir.” Came the reply.
Mila motioned her approval as Inquisitors Cross and Hunter Dunley did the same. The Knight Commander quickly delegating a few younger templars to aid the wounded around them.
Sophie’s runner had reached the church rambling about demon attacks and a mad elf. She guessed Sophie was the second part. As for the demons, she didn’t need much prompting to jump into action. She was merely lucky that a priest was attending to her in the cathedral's nave. The pews had been converted to a makeshift hospital given the extent of casualties trickling in from the mana bomb.
Hanabi and herself were resting when the soldier entered the church in a confused panic, babbling to a nearby priest. Catching only a few words but seeing how the priest immediately called for the templars had both of them back onto their feet despite Mila’s exhaustion. With the majority of templars, inquisitors and witch hunters already sent out to secure the rest of Arteria, the handful that remained were quickly scrambled into a strike force and sent with whatever guard contingent the arch bishop could muster.
Gathering more soldiers along the way, command was divided between templars, inquisitors and the sole witch hunter still inside the cathedral at the time. Over fifty odd soldiers marched themselves down the city streets of Arteria, racing for wherever the demon might be. For the people of the Astral Church, it was their duty to purge this evil.
For Mila, it was a terrifying reminder of why her devotion had never faltered in all her years of training. She had seen the demonic threat first hand and knew the true danger they posed. Of why the Dark Tide had been such a brutal era of Cyndralian history. How they had begun growing in strength with this extended peace since the late second era.
And now they’re coming back.
“Inquisitor Lyudmila, you’ve dealt with demons before?” Witch Hunter Dunley asked.
“A few times. Low level though. Nothing strong enough to breach wards.” Mila anwsered.
“Hmm. I must confess, that isn't very promising for the current situation.” The witch hunter mused. Wearing heavier armor than the inquisitors, he still sported blackened leathers underneath but was augmented with a metallic breastplate brimming with enchantment. Unlike the Inquisition, the witch hunters, though secretive, had a far more combat orientated role that separated them from the politicking that the others had to deal with. Their mission was far more simple. Locate the heretics, and annihilate with the full backing of the church.
“Mm.” Mila grunted.
The assault force now stood before the Krenonian Arena. The battle-scarred facade and few scattered soldiers tending to survivors. It was an discomforting sight to see the molty group gathered outside the arena. A few extra Trinity guardsmen mixed with legionnaires and a stray templar having establised a perimeter and triage center.
Mila also spotted a somewhat familiar looking girl being tended to by a clover legionnaire. Leaving the other command staff to take stock of the situation, she walked over and was greeted by a terrified girl shivering in place. Taking tender steps forward, she knelt over the two as the legionnaire quietly acknowledged her with a quick nod of his head. His armor letting out soft clanks as he walked away with a crossbow slung across his back.
“Hey… are you…?” Mila whispered.
The girl’s eyes darted up to Mila, her jittering only growing with every motion.
“Are you alright-”
“Inside. They went inside. To be devoured. Eaten. Swallowed.” The girl babbled.
Before Mila could get her bearing, the girl started thrashing about, making Mila recoil. The legionnaire quickly returned to the girl’s side, trying his best to calm her down. When she had stilled somewhat, he motioned for Mila to follow and they stood off to the side.
“Glad to see you, your uhh, your ladyship. She's still a little frazzled. As for the rest of us, we’re the ones told to manage the survivors.” He spoke as he flashed a quick salute.
“Likewise. But spare the pleasantries, soldier. What happened here?” Mila asked.
“Demons, lady inquisitor. A squad of us alongside another inquisitor and an adventurer came here to chase it down. I suspect the majority of the others are still inside fighting.” He answered.
An adventurer? That has to be Sophie. The other Inquisitor though… who is assigned to this sector? Mila frowned but shook her head, no time for idle speculation.
“Very well, continue tending to the wounded.” Mila informed him before turning towards the others in the strike force, “Sir Cross! Sir Dunley! There’s another Inquisitor already inside and some troopers. The demon’s likely trapped inside. We have to move in!”
The two officers barked some commands to the guards and templars with them. Hearing the commotion, Rosenfeld quickly returned and began reorgainizing the templar contingent under his command. With one squad left outside to help the survivors, the combined force hurriedly made entry into the arena, Mila running up to follow.
By the fallen arena doorway, Hanabi waited for her to catch up, offering a small smile as she approached before cracking her knuckles. Mila couldn’t help but grin a little at the sight. On some levels it felt almost like Hanabi was just here for the sake of being around. But on the other, her presence offered a friendlier, more casual appearance than the other church staff or soldiers. She reminded her a little of Sergeant Wilde back when they served in Melton. Despite the templar operating in an official capacity, he was by far the more human one between the two. Goddess… that feels like a long time ago, huh? Hope you’re doing alright with Von Krantz, old bastard.
Mila patted Hanabi on the back to signal for her to move forward. They’d already seen some of what the demon had done on their way here. They couldn’t allow it to live for a second longer. Goddess guide my hand and smite the foul beast.