Aggie’s PoV – Thebes
“No!”
At Aggie’s shout, Alfarr dropped the copper amulet, and it clattered across the craft master’s stone table. The rest of the group turned in surprise, a rush of motion having sent her chair crashing behind her. Yngvarr hadn’t hesitated to rise as well, and Pit just reappeared. He went from calmly waiting for the guild’s scholar to check the amulets they’d seized to having his back against a nearby wall with his bow already in hand. The craft master slapped a hand down atop its War Mattock motif and looked up, with confusion evident in his dark gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Alfarr asked, not spotting anything out of place.
Aggie’s form shimmered for a moment before she snarled her reply.
“Apolloites summoned Amdirlain. They’ve bound her in a circle, and I can’t Teleport to her.”
“Wait-“
Yngvarr didn’t manage the rest before Aggie’s Spell split the air, but the moment the Gate energy formed, it collapsed, and a Portal Spell gave the same result. Sending messages to Ebusuku and Livia, she stopped and glanced at the scholar, her tone softened from her earlier anger. “I’ve involved you in something I shouldn’t have. My apologies.”
“Involved me in what? I’m simply researching the source of this amulet. I can’t remember anything else discussed,” the craft’s Master stated. “Though I’d venture some Greeks need killing.”
A Gate split the space where Aggie had been trying her spells, and Livia stepped through from amid the crystal buildings of what Aggie recognised as Amdirlain’s Domain, leaving a grim-faced Cyrus behind.
“Isn’t he coming?” Aggie hissed in shock, wanting to borrow his strength to free Amdirlain from the trap.
“He can’t get involved,” Livia replied. Although her posture seemed calm she gave a smile that was tight with anger. “But I’ve sent a message to Liranë. She’s going to come to me.”
“Where were you just then?” Alfarr asked.
“That’s mother’s Domain now,” replied Livia, and ignoring Alfarr’s jaw dropping, she fixed her attention on Aggie. “Any luck?”
Aggie shook her head and spoke again, “I couldn’t get straight to her; I’ll check Crete’s temples.”
With those words, she vanished. Starting with Crete’s capital, she tried to remember the best vantages to check all the major ones she knew. The temples she landed near seemed calm and orderly. Shifting position to spots that provided a view through their ornate doors, all of them had Priests busy within, tending to the faithful’s offerings.
Scouting dozens of Temples passed in a blur before the pain struck and almost dropped her to her knees. The golden script that blazed in her mind gave plain words to a concept that made her scream.
The surprise sent her staggering into the open, and her rooftop position across the market square from the Temple drew immediate attention.
Spotting her garb, one of Apollo’s guards grabbed for a bow and moved for a better line of sight. His reaction proved fatal as Aggie unleashed a Spell despite the distraction of her sorrow. The row of guards sent black smoke skywards, the air filled with the scent of burning meat, as their flesh crackled and bled flames. Passers-by and faithful alike fled through the market, but Aggie ignored them to focus on the Temple and started another Spell.
The Priests within were chanting blessings, and though part of her admitted they might not be involved, they’d chosen their side. She wouldn’t let them live to strike first at any of Amdirlain’s people.
The dedication of the Temple would have been a sanctuary against another God’s Blessing. Aggie’s Wizard Spell slid through the ornate Temple’s wards against lesser elements, and needles of chaos perforated her targets from head to toe. More Temple guards rushed to the forecourt, and those intelligent enough to loose arrows and javelins, died first.
“Aggie, Torm got word from Týr. Meet at Eivor’s compound; Moke’s information gatherers might know of the Artificer involved. I’m going to borrow a circle and summon Torm. I’ll send him to you. I don’t know what shape I’ll be in afterwards, but he won’t forgive me if I don’t involve him. Yngvarr, Alfarr, and Liranë will be there shortly.”
With Livia’s Message whispering in her ear, the temptation to deal with the other Temples that she’d already checked surged, but Aggie teleported to the compound instead, leaving burnt and broken remnants behind.
Chaos reigned within the Temple that Eivor had grown from a roadside altar. A once small shrine outside Memphis, it now stretched out over acres and, like many Egyptian Temples, contained quite a community. Despite the apparent rise in fortunes, the compound’s layout still had the Temple and a large infirmary set close to the road.
Yngvarr, Alfarr, and Liranë appeared close to the Temple’s main door, and Yngvarr waved for her attention, though Liranë accomplished that on her own. While Livia had described the Githzerai, her utterly blank expression struck Aggie as alien, unmoved as she was among the chaos and tears. Despite those mourning around her, she appeared unaffected by their distress. She was undoubtedly unique with short-cropped hair and skin yellowed like a person dying of too much drink, even without the Elven ears and upturned nose.
“Know that my peoples’ way is about control of ourselves, so that what you perceive as a blank expression would show my grief. I hope you will understand I do not belittle your grief, rather I truly share it. Know you have my apologies if not displaying it overtly offends you. I didn’t know as much about Amdirlain as I thought. I still counted her a friend.”
That the words coming without Liranë’s mouth moving gave Aggie pause. Being told about and experiencing Telepathy were two very different things.
“Know I’ll try not to listen, but distressed minds project thoughts, especially untrained and undisciplined ones. Shall we see what records or contacts Moke possesses to aid the search? Know if you find individuals who might know their location, I’ll crack open their minds.”
Erwarth’s PoV
Fiery pain spread with impossible speed through her skin, burrowing towards her core, and they were all suddenly gathered in a room, along with Klipyl. Though they hadn’t met, a Succubus wearing an amulet of Amdirlain and not much else could only be one individual. It wasn’t a fancy room, nor enormous, but it provided enough space for them all to gather for the audience. Grey-white stone formed four unadorned walls and providing no distraction, but a grand master artisan’s work wouldn’t have distracted them from the Titan. Only Klipyl couldn’t take her gaze from Eleftherios, standing almost meekly beside him.
The moment Klipyl stepped towards him, Calithil clasped a hand over her eyes from behind and whispered in her ear. “Death can be enticing. Best not to look, youngling.”
The Titan began with no preamble. “You’ve two choices.”
“Not even a hello?” asked Erwarth.
Her question had slid from her lips with acidic anger, but the Titan merely nodded. “Hello, Erwarth.”
“Is this but another of your lies? Or an elaborate trap?” demanded Erwarth. “Because we know you like those.”
The Titan gave her a flat look, and she almost took back the words, but he spoke first. “I never lied to you.”
“You did! You lied to us. We went from one liar to another,” growled Erwarth, trying to hold back the sorrow and rage burning within her form. For all she logically knew that she stood no chance; still, she wanted to hurt him.
Her words brought a sad smile to the Titan’s face, even as he replied. “No.”
“Then tell me we didn’t create traps,” demanded Erwarth. “You can’t, can you?!”
Her shout didn’t stir any reaction beyond a sigh of frustration. “I’ll remind you again, I did not lie. I simply did not tell you all our plans. What you hold against me had only very specific prey in mind. For all other life, they were places to live and grow strong if they could, just as you were told.”
“You still…”
The Titan didn’t speak or move, but his forceful gaze cut Erwarth off. The weight was nothing compared to what he could project, but it still crushed her.
“I will not ask for your trust, Erwarth, because your trust means nothing to me. We’re speaking because Amdirlain would insist it be your choice. All here have proven you don’t need the Trial according to the rules,” stated the Titan. His gaze flickered to the softly protesting Klipyl still restrained by a whispering Calithil. “Even Klipyl. A Succubus who was helping with relationships, what next?”
“Why are we even here?”
“Apollo’s Mortals set a trap; one she hadn’t grown strong enough to avoid. She tried to transition from the Mantle but was destroyed; now the consequences are hers alone to carry. You get to choose since she wanted all tied to the Mantle to be lifted with it.”
“Send us to the Plane she’ll appear on,” insisted Erwarth, pushing back against the restrained pressure.
The Titan’s jaw clenched, and his hands suddenly held a heavy smith’s hammer before him in a white-knuckled grip, but his words held no heat. “I wish to be at my forge, not talking. Listen first, and then you can make a choice. First, know that what you ask for isn’t an option. Your choices are simple: break the Oath and add to the weight of grief her once-faithful are under, or keep it and take what she wanted for you. Unless you’d prefer destruction? She wanted you all to rise with the Domain and be safe with Ebusuku.”
“What about Amdirlain?” asked Erwarth, the anger and accusation secondary for the first time in the conversation.
“Her fate is still to be determined. It will depend on if she can adapt to her new situation and recover herself or not,” replied the Titan dispassionately. “But the outcome isn’t under my control.”
“Do you care at all?” asked Erwarth.
“Make your choice,” demanded the Titan, and the force suddenly increasing on Erwarth would have pulverised her before her last Ascension.
Erwarth merely ground her teeth as the fate of the trapped Lómë twisted in her. “Can’t we simply go back to the Abyss and continue our work?”
With a grunt of frustration, the Titan grounded his hammer, its force rocking the room. “Think, Erwarth. Your Oath-Link ties you to a Domain moving to the Celestial reaches. When that transition is complete, as you are now, you’ll be purged, not just dust. Then those with Souls will become trapped, lost on your home Plane; whether you are still here or anywhere else. You have two choices, now make one. I have no patience today, yet none here are the ones I want dead.”
“Would we still be able to help those trapped?”
“I’m sure you’ll render some aid, despite the risk. Your families have been putting off their choice for millennia. While I can understand they don’t wish to leave anyone behind, it’s still their choice to continue risking everyone currently safe. Not choosing is a choice.”
Sorrow twisting around inside her stomach, she considered the time she’d spent dwelling on long conversations with her mother, and Erwarth made her choice. “I’ll accept her gift.”
The majority quickly voiced their agreement until only a still distracted Klipyl—mewling in soft protest against Calithil’s gentle restraint—was left.
“Eleftherios, please wait for me at my personal forge. I wish to speak about your creative translation of orders. None of them carried upon your return; you walked a fine line for us both.”
The moment he vanished, Klipyl’s voice raised in protest. “But I wanted him to fuck me!”
After the Titan repeated the choices to Klipyl, with almost gentle patience, she agreed as well.
“What would you have done if she hadn’t wanted us lifted?” asked Erwarth.
He didn’t answer before blackness smashed across them.
Mirage’s PoV - Eyrarháls
Mirage raised her hands, and those gathered stilled immediately.
“Are you sure this will be necessary, Leira?”
Nodding at the question from among the group, she considered what to share.
“Mars had a Solar pass along a warning years ago that we’d be one of the first targeted if trouble started. Most consider Lantern Archons weak but Am-“ Mirage paused and held back the tears before she continued. “Aryana’s Celestials have been training hard for years. Tomila confirmed that general summoning for Lantern Archons works with minimal effort regardless of their levels. It’s the fat arse Hound Archons like me that take work. Start sending messages to all the Priests we know are strong enough to summon them, asking them to focus on summoning the Lantern Archons. Most should just do a general call, and I’ve got a few older ones I’ll get summoned specifically by some of you.”
The ‘minor’ rank of the Celestial beings generally made the energy required to summon them negligible. While Mirage didn’t know why the rules were set that way, she was simply glad Runa had taken the time to share her tale.
If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
Mirage moved around, sharing out specific names. Still, the majority were working through casting the general summoning Blessing, while the light within the chamber steadily grew as most of the host clustered above them. Other Lantern Archons popped into existence outside as they came to the gathering spot from elsewhere.
They were still summoning the Lantern Archons when a sudden note cascaded outwards, a kingdom at a time, until it had touched every Human on the continent. In Thebes, a Pantheon’s first casualty crossed the Titan’s rules on Gods’ warring.
A golden script appeared within the minds of all civilised beings in the kingdoms’ borders. The last occurrence was ancient history, but even those unable to read knew what this one said.
Though politely worded, the content was crystal clear: The Human Gods are fighting, until they’re all dead or have agreed to a peace accord, you’re all in the firing line. No Human may leave the conflict zone, no other races may enter, and no more Celestials can be summoned.
The last summoning finished with no result, and Mirage took the time to contact the commanders and nodded. “All accounted for in the Outlands. How many?”
Radovan, who’d been monitoring the summoning, gave her a wry smile. “Four hundred and eighty-nine by my count, likely more.”
Mirage wiped an ink smudge from Radovan's cheek before she took the parchment from him and cross-checked the numbers. When he leaned closer to recheck his count, she remained too aware of his warmth next to her. “That’s my tally as well. We’ll get them into groups of twenty, so we can triple-check. Not quite six companies’, but it will do.“
A moment later, a message shone in her mind, and Mirage felt like grinding her teeth. “We’re only allowed to defend those who… worshipers and settlements with public shrines.”
“Might be better to gather folks in. We’ve enough in the Cadre who can open portals,” suggested Tomila
“Amdirlain…she’d have said something about, all our eggs in one basket.” Mirage argued.
“Better than being picked off piecemeal if they come for us while scattered.”
Teidon Fenmenor’s PoV – Captain of Queen’s Guard - Thebes
The Royal Alchemist’s information had been the first useful lead in finding out a cure for the Prince. Yet it still wasn’t a certainty, and the weight of having to provide that information back to the Queen wore at him as he left the woman’s lab. Rude as she was, he did not know why the Pharaoh’s guard hadn’t put a fist in her mouth, for a mere servant to lash out in such a fashion was beyond reason. Yet it wasn’t his place to deliver a fitting punishment to a Human commoner if the guard didn’t have the spine to act for himself.
The crack of thunder caught Teidon by surprise, and glancing out a nearby window revealed that the sky was still cloudless. When an explosion of flames flooded along the Palace’s enclosed corridor, he threw himself back into the Alchemist’s chamber and slammed the door. The sheer heat bled through the solid oak, melting the varnish under his hands, but the continual buffeting forced him to hold it shut. It was a long time before the roaring eased.
The female he had spoken to earlier slammed open a cabinet and he looked up in time to see the awkwardly thrown bottle coming at him. Her bad throw was clearly going to miss. Dodging past it, he had his blade already out when the sound of shattering glass was followed by a wave of cold air across his back. Turning while he slipped towards her showed the door covered in frost and the edges sealed by ice, but above the door was a cloud of black smoke.
“You are as stupid as you are arrogant,” the woman snapped, her black eyes that matched the colour of her strange wig sparked with fury. Her shriek reminded him of a hawk that had been his hunting companion for years before he learnt the error of befriending a short-lived being. The thought though, drew a quick comparison to her beak-like nose and hard mouth. Another explosion echoed from the direction of the Palace’s main building and dragged him away from the memory.
“Woman, is there another way out?”
“Woman!” The hiss that escaped her lips should have emerged from a giant snake, and Teidon would have preferred to be dealing with one than talking to a Human. “I told you my name less than a glass ago, and you call me woman? Get yourself out.”
Turning back to the cabinet, she started pulling bottles out, hurriedly emptying the shelves into the pouch at her waist. He almost did just that but as he put his hand on his belt pouch, his skin started crawling from the amount of Mana being used nearby. While not a Wizard, his Elven senses told him that this was no ordinary spell-fight going on. He’d once seen a group of Wizards decimate a hoard of thousands of trolls assaulting a coastal community. This felt worse.
“Is there a way out… Shanty?”
“My name’s Shani you imbecilic rude oaf. You were going to gut me when I was trying to stop us both from dying.”
“The roaring had ceased.”
“You’re in my lab, there are things in here that love fire. They get so excited by it that they’ll blow us both into tiny pieces if they overheat. Why do you think there is no fireplace nor brazier in here?” asked Shani, her voice’s pitch left a hawk behind and threatened to make his ears bleed.
“How do we get out?”
“How do you keep your face so pretty when you’ve such an ugly brain? What a waste!”
The door started rattling and the ice began to melt, Shani snarled at him before striding over to the back wall of her chambers, past the neatly organised stone benches, with stacked glassware of various sizes, and ceramic pots and jugs.
The deep purple spider-silk top she wore caught the lights, and for a moment, runework stitched with thread to match the fabric caught his gaze. When they vanished again, he wondered if his blade would have been able to get through. Glancing across her unseemly wide hips, she reminded him of a beast Humans called cows waddling through a manure laden field; she moved only marginally faster. The black silk pants she wore tucked into knee-high boots favoured by mercenaries accented the curve of her body. But going from a decent, almost Elvish, narrow waist to those hips—almost the length of his forearm across—was truly grotesque.
Despite the urgency of the situation, both her hands moved, constantly taking items from every table she passed and placing them into the pouch, regardless of size. Her collecting continued until Teidon was suspecting she had a death wish enough for them both as she swept into an adjoining room.
Far bigger than the room she proclaimed her lab, there was no exit in sight or cupboard individually big enough to hide one. Teidon looked fruitlessly about among the freestanding bookcases that ran its length for any sign of an exit, hoping to leave her behind. Though, instead of delaying further, she casually strolled to the far end and touched a bare wall. The moment she did so, the wall changed into an archway, and revealed beyond was a flight of stairs downwards, yet there hadn’t been a hint of magic about it.
“Are you coming or what?” Shani asked. “I thought you would have been a quick enough study to catch my humble backdoor, oh mighty Captain.”
The trip out from under the palace was a nightmare. Frequent explosions rocked the tunnel, even collapsing a side passage as they passed it. The rock dust at least made her cough enough to prevent her from shrieking again. A glimmer of light ahead of them finally hinted at an exit after what seemed a glass of being in the accursed-Dwarf-lovers tunnel, as a tone pulsed through his bones.
He was still taking it in when Shani looked at him wide-eyed, gave a pained grunt as if he had gutted her, and breathed in sharply. The keening noise would have done a banshee proud, but even as he resorted to covering his ears it turned into a scream that made sense.
“Ra is dead! They killed my God. Curse them into the eternal sands. They will pay!”
Ignoring her venomous cursing and threats against every Grecian, alive and dead, he picked up the pace. Still, it was quite a series of poisonous and inventive tortures she promised to inflict. The tunnel had steadily risen upwards over the last hundred metres, making him wonder how far they’d descended from the lab. At the end was a short ladder leading up to a hatch that let them out into a room attached to the back wall of a hut. When he got outside, though, there was no sign of it, and his hand passed right through where it should have been.
“Do you have an Alchemist with you?” asked Shani, the question distracting him from trying to find the seam where the dimensional magic must connect to the building.
Teidon spat the words, wanting to be done with the woman already. “I will get one; we part company here.”
“The message said no Elf can enter, remember? I could tell by the look on your face you saw a message as well,” growled Shani. “Did you get something else? You can leave, that’s fine, let the victim keep suffering.”
“Why do you want to come with us?”
“You’re trying to find a Priest of a Greek God, to see if the poison is what you’re looking for,” stated Shani. “There’ll be lots of chances to kill Greeks along the way, I’m sure. How are you going to verify that any antidote they tell you about is workable? Wouldn’t you like someone to brew it before you kill them?”
“We can send the details to the capital,” refuted Teidon, and he stepped back to look over the stonework.
“And if they use phrasing, or measurements that aren’t common to an Elven Alchemist, and you need them translated?”
“We’ll manage.”
Teidon didn’t stop to argue further but hopped atop the nearest blocky dried mud fence. Its awful mud-splattered appearance matched the rest of the city away from the stone buildings closest to the Palace. Blocky buildings of mud, speckled with worse constructions of stone, covered the city. Their only advantage was how tightly they were packed together, giving him an easy—if at times meandering—path to transverse above the unwashed stench. Orienting himself by the Palace looming above the city’s buildings, he started towards the only inn they’d found acceptable in Thebes.
In the distance, the smoking ruin of the Palace suddenly slumped sideways and collapsed. Despite the still-clear sky, repeated lightning strikes had him blinking to clear his vision. When he could see at last, the place had spilled its stonework across the clearer space around it. With its shattered roof and walls, it seemed a broken beast ready for the slaughter.
The city had been awful before, but was far worse now. Crossing it, he gave up any thought of using the streets to shorten the winding path. The horrid Humans had packed them in a panic about their godling’s fate—some even opened their own wrists. A child wailing for its mother was stepped on by a horse and only that the packed mob had prevented the rider from travelling at speed prevented its instant death. Just as the Humans did, he moved onwards towards his own destination, and it was left to its own fate. The messages he exchanged along the way didn’t make him happy, but it would be as the Queen ordered.
“What’s going on? Are we going to return home?”
Varying questions of the same vein came from his patrol that had gathered in the inn’s courtyard, a score of attempted thieves lying dead at their feet. The Elven steeds were the only horses they’d allowed to be stabled in the inn and they wouldn’t have stood for a Human to touch them.
“The Queen’s orders remain,” said Teidon, and he fixed all the guards with a fierce look before he repeated them and shared the latest information. “We are to continue looking for a cause or cure to the Prince’s condition. The Alchemist we’ve tracked down spoke of potions used by the Priesthood of Deimos. They induce madness and seizures that lock up the body. Given all the Prince’s symptoms, it’s a possibility we can’t ignore.”
“Could she have been lying?”
“No, I wasn’t lying, and I speak Elvish,” Shani snapped, and Teidon spun around to find her perched on the inn’s green tiled roof.
Grinding his teeth, Teidon’s knuckles ached, but he kept himself from reaching for his swords. “She wasn’t lying about other details; she knew of Ra’s death before we got clear of the Palace. Our Queen’s vision showed her that the Greeks lured the Avatar of Ra here to defend his lineage. Four Paragons slew the Avatar with spears, swords, and bows of lightning, which triggered all their Gods to be sent here. Before he recovered from the surprise, they dealt a death blow.”
“Does it have a name?” asked Barawen in the mountain tongue. The lithe Ranger looked the Alchemist over with sensible disdain clear in her amethyst gaze. Prompted by her motion, a stray lock of her jade-green hair came loose and fluttered against her neck like a leaf in the breeze. It was a movement that set his mind to longing for the Elven glades after too long in these near-empty plains. The fine features and athletic build of the team’s primary Scout provoked an appreciation for her beauty, made greater against the backdrop provided by this dross of a place.
“Princess Shani, twelfth daughter of the previous Pharaoh, Montu the second, descendant of Ra. I speak Elvish, and I’m good at tracking down arseholes like your Captain. Finding a Priest won’t be a problem,” declared Shani. She simply reappeared on the ground with a smile for Tideon. “I got to examine your backdoor along the way. You should look behind you more often and stop putting your nose in the air. Oh, and when I said I speak Elvish, I should have said I speak every language known. It’s part of my heritage.”
Soranus’s PoV - Paláti of Apollo
Sitting on an outer balcony of the Palace, Soranus frowned and tapped his chin as he considered the diagram before him. Across the grounds, where the Palace’s Temple had once stood, was a dark pit that didn’t deserve a moment more of his time. Neither did the message about the Gods’ war that had sent some fleeing in fear.
Activating the simulacrum’s control crystal, he watched the process again, nodding with satisfaction whenever Amdirlain’s tests of the barrier drained harmlessly away. Her flitting about at a pace that required him to slow the image, received a bark of laughter at her failures. Though he spent time laboriously examining her efforts, and the barrier’s lack of reaction, the dead and injured among the secondary circles were unexamined. The dark flames that had burst into existence first appeared as a low hedge compared to the near-angelic figure, barely reaching her knees, but it quickly reached the top of the circle’s barrier.
When the barrier fell at the end of yet another viewing, he slowed the image further to enjoy a moment he could savour forever. Letting it crawl forward until the tide reached the sneering Prince, Soranus held the image frozen, enjoying the sharp lines cut into his expression. One by one, his failure to activate his various teleportation tokens deepened the lines of his fear and broadened Soranus’ grin. As Soranus’ dimensional blocks foiled each, they flared to ash. That, at least, had gone exactly as he had planned.
The Prince turned to run too late, and Soranus slowed the image further still. What had happened in a mere moment, took ten minutes or more in the recalled event. The wave ate flesh then bone, consumed the Prince, his pet killer, and then Soranus’ simulacrum.
“She destroyed her form, but only after filling the chamber with power. Without her there, the circle didn’t prevent it from interacting with this plane; a delightfully efficient approach. Looks like I should have cut his throat myself. Now, if I’d included a secondary containment circle separate from the summoning? I don’t recognise that energy—it wasn’t Negative for all the blackness. The Sigil was drawing it away, so maybe a planar shunt to disperse it to Limbo—nothing important there.”
Ignoring the continuing shocked wailing and other noises from those about the Palace grounds, Soranus set about improving the circle’s design. It was late in the evening when he looked up into the gaze of a stern-faced man who blocked his light. Beyond him stood a window showing an empty field of brown grass with a strange, jaundiced-skinned woman a few strides beyond. Motionless yet intently focused, she looked caught in a moment, reaching out with grasping hands as if she’d drawn away and now held open heavy curtains. It was apparent she’d created the opening through his wards.
“How is she doing that?”
A cold blade stole his breath as it drove upwards through his lungs, shrugging his protections aside as if tearing through cobwebs. Icy blood gushed from his mouth as his eyes fell upon an exhausted-looking woman. Though she looked Greek, she wore Persian garb and had an amulet with Amdirlain’s symbol around her neck. Soranus scrambled frantically for a pouch at his waist, and Torm’s free hand leapt forward to clamp down with a force that splintered every bone to tiny shards. Pinned between Torm’s sword and grip, the agony drew forth a gurgling scream that went as unheeded as those Soranus had earlier ignored.
Torm’s grim expression didn’t shift when he twisted the sword within Soranus, but before withdrawing it from rime-coated flesh, Aggie’s glowing fist exploded Soranus’s skull, blasting it from his shoulders. The last beat of his heart activated a gemstone set concealed within his flesh, and it stealthily sent his Soul away to a preserving phylactery.
“Wait a moment, Torm.”
Picking up a pair of blood-stained workbooks and a large sheet covered by circle and Sigil, Aggie looked about the chamber and set a few spells in place. A simple Spell had the blood flow away and leave the documents she’d collected unstained.
“Now we can go.”
Torm glanced at the Fire Mana within them and didn’t argue when Aggie headed back out the Portal that Liranë held open through the Palace’s wards. A few minutes after their departure, an explosion blazed to life, consuming the contents of Soranus’ quarters and collapsed the ceiling upon it.
The dust hadn’t yet fully settled when, faraway in a chamber that Soranus had deliberately never seen, a skeleton of bone and mithril twitched then settled. Fingers tapped, its spine cracked and flexed, before the red dots of unlife glowed in hollow eye sockets as the masterwork became inhabited by its creator.
Lorrella’s PoV – Construction Yard - Jinamizi
The patches of ground where two of the mercenaries had been standing a short while ago still glowed a golden hue that hurt her eyes to look at. Dusting it with refined sulphur from one of Furnace’s oldest volcanos caused the sulphur to burn into nothing before it even touched the stone. The burning dust, reeking of Celestial forces, had Lorrella move far back.
She checked through the complex and found six other patches, including one left in the room their commander used for practice. Their routine and low conversations had been enough for her to pick up that this wasn’t their primary base, but she hadn’t yet learnt as much as she’d hoped. For a moment, Lorrella considered just taking the advance payment along with the supplies and running, but then she’d have to set up another construction space. Back out in the construction area, she looked over the scaffolding around the gate breaker before strolling over and patting the vehicle’s base plate.
“There, there, it’s alright, baby. If they’re all destroyed, we’ll find you a nice Demon Lord that wants to spread some nasty gates wide.”