Her body sank into the dream, expanding and contracting, her consciousness merging into the chains, making them part of her own body. Like an octopus, first numbingly and then clearer, tendrils extended through the void, senses of touch, of taste, of sound ingraining themselves into her brain.
The moss tumors clutched around her, tangled into her chains, and different hells covered her new extremities, the varying sensations causing her no pain, only an overwhelming annoyance.
And yet she didn’t tone down those feelings. As a knowledge mage, listening and acknowledging all of them allowed her to map the dream, as if she was a spider, and her chains the webs.
Sensing the fairies' wings fluttering across the empty space, tickling her brain, splattering when they were crushed or destroyed.
As her control went deeper, expanding itself through the interconnected chains, more and more sides of the dream were revealed to her. They didn’t cross to the other side of Andras’ formation, being contained into a bowl shape.
That also meant that the chains’ core was located mostly at the hemisphere south of the dream, and, from there, it climbed up, nailing the chains to the upper part.
The chain’s core, effectively, was the Custodian, currently seal-
Velvet had not approached her, wary of whatever Andras had done to seal her, yet that had been not enough.
A sharp stabbing pain hit her consciousness, nailing into her brain. Velvet collapsed onto her knees, coughing and puking blood. Flashing lights sparkled through her vision, even if her eyes were closed.
She began cutting down the chains affected with… that from her body, breaking the links before they got too close to her.
Her body almost fell down completely, in a state of shock, but she had no time to worry about it, busy with the corroding chains. A single misstep meant that she would have no body to worry about, after all. And, she wasn’t alone.
Teeth dug into her waist, not breaking skin, yet deep enough to lift her from the ground without the chance of falling down. If she couldn’t focus on her main body, she would put her trust in Frenese, or, more specifically, on their Pact.
Through the chains, she could sense Frenese’s direction as she broke some and kept others, moving the useful ones to stop and slow the pursuing Devils, even when Frenese moved across the zones with them dead.
Andras hadn’t realized it yet, and Velvet had to get her shit together before He did. The Devils were more perceptive, but they were on the same power level as Frenese, which made his behavior more noticeable for them.
And, despite being a wolf, Frenese wasn’t fast. Partially because he was carrying Velvet, and partially because the terrain kept shifting, wherever it was from colossal chains falling down as Velvet cut them out, Andras attacking Lothrigern or the different Hell Realms shifting.
Frenese avoided the hells of living Devils, aided by Velvet through their mind connection. She felt the blood dripping down her nose, but, before being able to burn it to prevent a Devil channeling a curse, it got eaten.
It was lost blood, anyway.
Cut, cut, cut. Move Frenese to the left. Cut, cut, cut. It hurts. Cut, cut, cut…
The safe zones got smaller and smaller, the Devils having noticed too much and started closing them in. So, Velvet took them back to the start, where Frenese had laid down his own Realm.
With another bloody cough, she patted the corner of Frenese’s maw. “Put… put me down…”
The Devil lowered his head, laying her down instead of dropping her, which she appreciated, taking deep breaths to recover the air she’d been unable to get under the maw’s pressure.
She had managed to cut off all the infected chains, defeating the Deriliam’s corrosion. Around sixty percent of them were now unusable, but she was alive and in control of the rest now.
Velvet got up, stumbling, forced to lay against Frenese’s slimy body to not fall down. How much blood had she lost? How much blood could she lose in a dream? Funnily enough, she had no physical wounds, all the blood having been lost by puking it, crying it, or having it fall down from her nose and ears while fighting the corrosion.
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As much as she would’ve loved to rest several seconds more against Frenese’s wet, slimy fur tendrils, they now had caught Andras' attention for real. Velvet was sure of that, her skin growing goosebumps intense enough to hurt. And that was only His gaze falling over them.
A gaze Velvet didn’t dare to match, yet one followed by an attack, this time, directed at them.
So she mobilized all the possible chains, sparing no expense, just to stop it. But they were heavy, like a muscle she hadn’t learned how to use yet, having no prior experience. That slugginess, coupled by the Devils digging their hells deeper to stop them, made the barrier way thinner than she planned to.
Way too thin to stop a Deriliam’s attack.
Frenese’s teeth clamped once again on her waist, ready to run, but Velvet stopped him.
“I’ve stopped being an observer, so now it's his turn.”
The turn to keep his own promise.
Before the attack fell down, colliding against them, a wall of gray, dirty light appeared, clashing against the attack, both of them breaking down into a million pieces, a rain of red and silver.
In front of them was now Cardomos, clad in a cracking armor, one that slowly broke into shards, falling to the ground, now useless.
What had been a magic artifact of the highest caliber, could only stop a single strike of the Deriliam, a strike that was already weakened because Andras didn’t want to destroy the dream or His own Devils, but to get rid of them.
And now, Deliriam and ex-Inquisitor faced each other, as Velvet saw the Cardomos under the armor.
Before, half his body was petrified, due to Mirel’s curse, with roots crawling under his skin, due to Arhontissa’s curse. That was what Velvet could see, since he wore a long robe, almost priest-like.
But now, that robe was gone, and Velvet could see Cardomos’ Escas. Unlike her own Esca, who looked more like a tattoo unless she started accumulating miasma, Cardomos' three eyes were alive, blinking and looking around, the iris a dull silver tone. One on each hand, and the third on the middle of his left forearm.
Andras didn’t send a follow up attack once the first got intercepted, and Velvet soon realized why, stabbing an approaching Devil and throwing it away from them and Cardomos.
She didn’t want to waste time in trying to kill a Devil, not wanting to spend all her chains into a single one when tens were waiting to strike.
Cardomos folded down and coughed, a dark liquid coming from his mouth.
How much time do you have? Minutes? Did she hesitate for too long? No, it wasn’t that. Cardomos had long gone past his limit, and yet, here he was, facing down Andras Apolyon.
It would’ve been nice to say that Andras showed some emotion towards his perseverance, but He didn’t, readying another attack.
And it would’ve been not nice to say that that was it, but it wasn’t. Cardomos recovered his previous firm standing, no longer showing any of his previous vulnerability. And then, he looked up, met Andras' gaze and began chanting.
“Mother of Witches, you who slumber at the bottom of the Primeval Sea, lay your thousand eyed gaze upon me.”
“Origin of madness, Sovereign of the Trifecta of Finality, Goddess of Despair.”
“Haashi Morgania. You who are the mother, the queen, the goddess and the creator. Hear me, answer me, look at me.”
The Deriliam of mages and witches, Haashi Morgania, a name given to her by Frenese. The Trifecta of Finality, a name given to her by Skugol, referring to the three goddesses that ruled over Darkness, Death and Despair, the Mother Goddess of Horror.
She’d been blessed by darkness, met death, and now, Cardomos called forth despair.
The Ashen Arbiter’s flesh twisted, the remaining armor breaking down, as eyes began growing over his body, opening and closing, blinking.
New Escas, breaking the limit of three that he had, just that those weren’t his, but borrowed from Her. As his own Escas popped, blood coming down from the fresh wounds, the price to pay for Her gaze.
Cardomos faced Andras, faced His attack, no longer as a mage nor a witch, but as something else. He extended his hands, palms facing up, as a pair of scales.
“I have no right to judge someone of your standing, nor do I proclaim you a sinner. And yet, since you are in my presence, I shall pass a last judgment.”
“Andras Apolyon, I call forth the accusation.”
The Deriliam didn’t answer, nor acknowledged Cardomos words. Or, if He did, Velvet didn’t notice it.
“Grudge of the fallen. Ephalses.”
And then, Andras' attack fell.
And then, Cardomos brought forth the accusation, the Retribution against the Deriliam’s sins.
A blinding light which forced Velvet to cover her eyes with her forearm, followed by a fluttering sound, not like the one of the fairies, but softer, slower. And bigger. Colossally bigger.
As the light receded, Velvet saw several wings, more than twenty, completely white, its back facing Velvet. And, at the next instant, it shot up, crashing and crossing part of the dream, part where Andras was.
The dream shook, cracks running through the sky, filled with light.
A rain of feathers and flesh and blood fell down, some of it falling on top of Velvet’s face, mixing with her own, half-dried blood. It stung, like acid, sizzling as she wiped it out with her hand, burning it in the process.
The light disappeared as soon as it appeared, the summoning taking all the power possible from Cardomos.
As he fell down, like the feathers. And, like the Deriliam’s flesh.