Beyond the onyx tunnel, up another flight of exceedingly long stairs, was the Imperium at last. Darriel unlatched a trap door of sorts at the top and flipped it open. After climbing up and out from the dreary underground, they scrambled to their feet to see that they were in the middle of a strange room filled with beakers, lab equipment, and other miscellaneous scientific tools.
Grovalt and some others fell to the ground, visibly and audibly exhausted. “Ahh. Whew. So… is this it? I’m getting really tired of climbing.“
“Yes, though there is still the climb upwards. We’re only on the ground floor.“ Zenzi replied with a small, sadistic upturn at the corner of her mouth.
Grovalt stared in disappointment. “There isn’t, like, an elevator or anything?“
“No,“ Darriel said coldly. “I’d imagine the mages teleport about the place, but as I’m sure you know, we can’t teleport anywhere we haven’t seen with our own eyes.“
Grovalt grumbled, stood back up with a groan, then took his first good look at their surroundings. “This doesn’t look like the entrance.“
“It appears to be one of the many connecting rooms. If we find a nearby hall, it should-“
Darriel’s explanation was cut short by a faint, yet desperate shout. “Close the gate! Now!“
“Is that…?“ Grovalt started.
“The leader of the Tyranny Resistance’s voice. It would seem they managed to find their way inside as well.“
Without hesitation, everyone darted out of the lab and frantically yet determinedly searched for the source of the voice. After a short while, they came into an expansive onyx room lit by the sunlight outside. Or half-lit, as the light quickly drained from the area due to the main gate’s closing. A handful of people in gray coats were desperately wrenching a large lever device around and around, until the chain mechanism within the wall had successfully downed the gate. Its closing shook the ground, and what followed it sounded like a rabid beast of some kind coming from outside. Even muffled, it seemed to cause great distress to fall upon the Resistance members.
Fatalinya slowly loosened her grip on the gate mechanism, then laid eyes on Grovalt and his allies. She sank to her knees, eyes widened in fright.
“You guys made it! Where’s…“ Grovalt’s expression grew dim, as though he already knew the answer to his qualms. “Where’s the rest…?“
Fatalinya shook her head in response, quivering with fear. Her breathing was ragged and unsteady. “Breven… Breven’s gone. They’re all… gone…“
“And Eloise?“ Zenzi asked in a quiet voice.
“Gone… she left us. She left us… to die! That bitch…! I’ll never forgive her. For as long as I live. Those monsters… those things I can’t describe… we needed her help. And before I could even convince her, she vanished.“ Fatalinya’s nails dug into her scalp, as if she wished to tear the memories out of her head.
For all of Imagon’s boastful remarks and trickery, it became apparent that he really did tell them the truth. None of them wanted to believe it, but the aftereffects were here right in front of them, demanding to be understood.
Fatalinya lowered her hands and peered up in silence. The winding maze-like stairs and passageways that made up the Imperium’s heights were coated in a dull, gray glow, much like the coats the disheveled members wore. Among her were four others who had managed to escape due to Breven’s sacrifice. They were splattered with blood and covered in scorch marks. Several bodies of mages like the ones the Ravens had confronted underground lay dead on the floor around them.
Darriel came forward and knelt down beside her. “I apologize. We were met with a trial or two on the way here. Perhaps if we had gotten here sooner-“
“Stop,“ Fatalinya said in a low tone. “No point. I’m sure you tried, and that’s enough for me. Just wasn’t enough for them…“
“Hmph.“ Maxra exhaled as if someone had said something mildly humorous.
“Something you want to say?“ Fatalinya glared at the anisai. Any patience she would have normally had had gone and died with her comrades.
“I don’t understand the issue here. Eloise figured the risk wasn’t worth the trouble, so she left. You act as though to be selfish in this world is a crime.“
“It is when it dooms all of my men to die.“
“So when someone else’s selfishness hurts you, then it’s bad? You really aren’t any better than the Imperium.“
“What was I supposed to do, then? There was no other choice. We’re only here because Breven gave his life for us.“
“Maybe. I just find it annoying that you can preach about how the Sorceress is nothing but evil and corrupt because of her selfishness, yet you throw dozens of your men to their deaths to protect yourself, then blame another for it.“
“There was nothing we could do!“
“Why couldn’t you have given your life, then? Why did that man have to die for you?“
Fatalinya bit her lip until it bled. She shambled up to a standing position, using her rapier as a cane. She was silent, though in her mind she tried desperately to find a way to dispute Maxra’s criticism.
“Humans really are all the same. You use excuse after excuse to cover up your true feelings when it benefits you the most.“
“...I only want to help people. I want to free them with what little power I have. Is that so wrong? Isn’t that why Breven saved us…?“
The other Resistance members stood with sullen faces. One of them, a woman with shoulder-length black hair, walked forward and placed her hand on her captain’s back. “We’ll never desert you. We believe in the cause. To the beginning or the end.“
The others nodded in unison, and Maxra shook her head lightly. “Don’t let me stop you~ I’m just tired of hearing desires being masked as the greater good when it only benefits one side.“
Grovalt broke the tension. “I didn’t know Breven all that well, but I do know that he would never give his life for something he didn’t believe in. He was a crook, but he had a good heart.“
A faint smile graced Fatalinya’s exhausted face. She thanked Grovalt in a quiet voice, then turned to the small gloomy girl that approached her. It was Zenzi.
“Despite the losses, this is the first time the Resistance has reached the Imperium, no?“
“Yes, that’s right.“
“Then take pride in it. Even with Eloise’s help, a mere rabble of humans managed to penetrate the Sorceress’s defenses.“
Fatalinya nodded slowly, and as she did, the black-haired member spoke up from behind her. “What is to be expected from here? What should we be prepared for?“
“Stairs,“ Darriel said. “And lots of them.“
Grovalt’s face fell in despair as he peered upwards at the labyrinthine mess.
“We should also be prepared for the rest of the officials. Surely, Imagon was sent to die. Perhaps to waste our time. But as we discussed yesterday, the rest are very likely to kill you. There could also be a variety of traps laid for us in advance.“
“But, how do we know where we’re going? That map doesn’t show the upper floors, right?“
Darriel revealed Imagon’s gem, pilfered from his corpse. “If we can trust his final words, this should be our guide to the top where the Sorceress is. Otherwise, we may have to find an unwilling mage to serve the role.“
Fatalinya was the first to begin the arduous climb, with her subordinates following suit. The losses outside weighed heavily on her heart, yet her legs kept moving. She felt that it was her duty to see the mission through, no matter the losses. She convinced herself that's what they would have wanted. It must have been what Breven wanted, too.
Like a winding clock or a revolving moon, the group allied in blood and desire made their way up the draconic tower. One would normally not deem climbing a tower treacherous, but as it was built with those advanced in the ways of magic in mind, there were no railings. There were no guard rails. Safety was not a concern in the Imperium. In every inch of its creation, the final result was its focus. The combined efforts that went into its construction clearly had their sights turned to the stars, rather than the earth below their feet. As much as it was a structure of death and oppression to the Tyranny Resistance, it had once been a symbol of Aza’s magical strength and intelligence. A spire built on a promise that one day, somehow, mankind would climb to the heavens and rival the Goddess. That there would be a time in which magic could elevate all to a higher purpose and give them the power to claim what they desired most of all.
As she climbed and followed the others through winding halls, Nakir at her side, Ceres wondered if she was any different from Fatalinya. She wondered why Maxra hadn’t scolded her in the past at some point. It was true that Ceres didn’t hide behind excuses. She was clear to them all that her only desire was to save her sister. From her perspective it would seem like a selfless act. Perhaps even from the others’ perspective. But she began to understand Nakir’s actions back then. She always wondered why, out of the countless humans he must have seen, had he saved her. He had told her the truth back at the church.
Nia had saved Nakir’s life, just as Nakir had saved her’s. How could someone so selfish save another’s life? Perhaps saving Asteria wasn’t so selfless, she thought. Maybe Asteria would see it as stupid and idiotic. She wanted to save her sister, but the sacrifices she had made along the way were nothing but harmful. The mental and physical trauma endured along the path to the Imperium still scarred her mind. She had changed since the village. Since playing with her sister at the coast.
The Ceres that threw the dragon scale into the ocean to keep her village’s peace of mind seemed like a different being entirely now. A calm, hardworking village girl had become a monster hellbent on saving her sister from the head of an enigmatic regime. Except, she couldn’t bring herself to totally hate Nia. If she really had saved her friend’s life in the past, then there was still some hope in bringing that part of her out into the light.
Stolen novel; please report.
“People may change, but the core that makes them who they are stays the same.“ Her father’s words from long ago bubbled up from the back of her mind. She peered down at his dagger thoughtfully, brushing her fingers across its odd etchings.
Snapping out of her sinking thoughts, the sound of rushing wind and a piercing noise caught Ceres’s ears. A fast-moving, sharp projectile was headed straight towards Fatalinya’s head. There was no time to react. Ceres closed her eyes, and the shriek of clashing metal reverberated throughout the winding, open space they were in now.
Maxra stood in front of Fatalinya, bearing her immaculate dagger tightly in her hand. An object was sent spiraling into the air, then landed blade-end on the ground, slightly denting the onyx plating. Maxra had saved Fatalinya from an attack that would have likely been fatal.
“Nice try,“ Maxra cried out into the darkness. There was no one in sight. “I hope you don’t think you can kill any of us with a dagger throw that slow.“
Slow? How was that slow? Ceres tensed up, searching every inch of the space with her nocturnal eye. Still, she couldn’t sense anything lurking in the shadows.
A charming, feminine laugh emanated from somewhere, but it was impossible to discern the exact direction. “It’s good to see you, Maxra. Seems you’ve managed to make friends with the humans you despise so much.“
Maxra’s needlepoint concentration didn’t waver. “They’re as much friends to me as the officials are to you. Just means to an end, right?“
The voice laughed again. Though it would’ve normally come across as a beautiful, kind laugh, it was nothing but grating in a life-or-death situation. “For those who don’t know me, I am Venza, the Unseen. Now, Max, why don’t you let me take that foolish girl’s head and be on my way? You know I’ll make it quick.“
“Master wouldn’t like that. I thought I warned you. If you cross his path, he won’t hesitate to kill you. Neither will I.“
Zenzi opened her mouth to support Maxra’s defiance, but no sound came out. A deep, ear-splitting reverberation had entered her mind and scrambled her thoughts. Chaotic waves assaulted her, psionically thrashing her head until she lost her balance. She fell onto one knee, barely managing to keep conscious.
Grovalt was the first to notice. “W-what’s wrong? Zenzi?“ He lightly shook her shoulder to no avail. He glanced around the room in search of the girl’s mental disturbance.
Out from the darkness came a being that was utterly incomprehensible at first. It was a man, but he was terribly disheveled and seemed as though he were dying of hunger or thirst. The far more unbelievable part, however, was that his head was gone. Replacing it were spindly tendrils that slowly ebbed back and forth. Hovering in the middle of them, perfectly symmetrical to the rest of the being’s body, was a large teal jewel of unknown rarity. It twinkled in the dull glow that illuminated the Imperium’s interior.
“Intruders are to be culled…“ The enigma’s voice sounded in their minds directly, unheard to the outside world.
Ignoring the pain flaying her psyche, Zenzi pushed back with the bulk of her psychic ability. An invisible force pushed and pulled between them. To the naked eye, it would appear as some kind of unstable anomaly threatening to expand and decimate anything that stood in its wake.
Not sparing a single second, Grovalt held his palm up and aimed it directly at Ilzathk's center of mass. A magical chime hit his ears, and an icy conjuration began to stir around his fingers. Without much effort, a frozen bolt left his palm at a blistering speed and was sent careening towards its target.
As fast as it had been cast, a feathery shadow stood in front of it, and a burst of shattering ice chips followed shortly after. As the smoky aftermath cleared, a woman wreathed in black cloth and wearing a metal visor appeared in its midst. She stood at her side, a throwing knife teetering haphazardly at the end of her pointer finger.
Though it seemed his attack was futile, it was clear by Zenzi’s improved disposition that Grovalt had destroyed the enigmatic being’s focus.
“Archizend’s just using you, girls. I know it first hand. As soon as he has no more use for you, he’ll throw you away like a dirty rag.“ Venza playfully tossed the knife up a few meters, then caught it with her index and thumb without looking.
Maxra sighed. “Like the Sorceress is any different.“
None could tell, but Venza flashed a satisfied smile underneath her cold visor. “Right. Guess that’s our curse. Anisai may be killing machines, but we can’t do anything by ourselves, huh?“ She laughed bitterly.
“I’d say there was still time for you to change sides, but frankly, I can’t stand you.“
“Rude,“ Venza replied sarcastically, readying herself for the eventual breaking of the momentary peace between the two. “It’s quite funny, though.“
“What?“
“How much you think you have the upper hand.“
In the polygonal hell of the Imperium, none could have identified the faint seams in the wall next to them. With a low, grinding sound, the structure raised to reveal another large connecting room beside them. Filling it were dozens of ritual mages, and the spells they had prepared were already finished and ready to be unleashed. The light at the end of the mages’ hands shimmered, declaring the final second before their spells would pummel their unprotected foes.
Darriel hammered both fists into the floor, sending webbed cracks across the room at a rate the mages could not perceive in time. They didn’t reach the mages, however, but stopped halfway. Right as the energy left the mages’ palms, towering spikes erupted from the ground and acted as a barrier for the Ravens. All at once, the chaotic spells unleashed sent a torrent of destructive power into the crystalline barrier to very little effect. Though the barrier had begun to crack and shatter, the mages had long wasted their conjured artillery. Drained, half of them fell to their knees, exhausted from the intense use of magical energy.
“Heya,“ a voice whispered from behind Maxra’s left ear. She spun around, jade dagger bared, and met Venza’s cold gaze. Their weapons clashed with enough power to send a wave of wind across the room.
The shrieking cacophony of metal on metal lit the air ablaze. The two anisai women dodged and countered one another. With speed impossible for human beings, Grovalt witnessed as they clashed again and again from one corner to the next.
“Zenzi, we have to help-“
“Little busy!“ Zenzi was again locked into a psionic duel against the Monarch, who had, just like Venza, used the Ravens’ confusion for an edge in the ensuing battle.
Darriel observed the gradual destruction of his barrier for a moment, then turned to Lumi and Rook and waved them over with a large gesture. “You two! With me! Grovalt! We’ll take care of these damn mages. Focus on the mission!“
Departing from their allies, the gruff man and young mercenaries dashed into the newly revealed room and began dispatching their enemies with haste. Some were crushed under the immense weight of Lumi’s hammer, others were cut into numerous pieces by Rook’s precise swordsmanship, and the rest came face to face with Darriel’s thorny fists. They scattered like ants, each of them falling prey to their overwhelming prowess. Still, there were too many of them. A call had to be made.
Grovalt wiped his pale hand across his blade. A cool wind graced its edge, granting it the same power he had used before. A razor-sharp coat of rime formed across it, further honing its already capable sharpness. His eyes grew narrow as he neared his target: the source of Zenzi’s toil. Ilzathk the Monarch, his tendrils moving as calm as ever, stood unflinching at Grovalt’s approach.
“Northern warrior… so far from home… leave this place… return to where you belong…“
“Get out of my head! And her’s!“
Grovalt swung horizontally, aiming for Ilzathk’s floating crystal, but the being ducked underneath his blade in the nick of time. Upon closer inspection, his form had altered in a brief moment. While his upper body was still humanoid to some extent, his legs had tripled in number. He was more akin to some kind of mutated spider than anything else. With the extra legs, his calm movements suddenly became erratic. He crawled left and right, avoiding Grovalt’s continuous strikes.
“You and her… quite similar… I have peered within your minds… both creatures harbor such immense guilt… yet your lives have taught you to hide it… beneath a clever veneer…“
“You don’t know anything about me.“
“Perhaps… though I know of her…“
“What about Zenzi?“
Ilzathk’s arms began to twist and mold. The bones, or what had seemed like bones, seemed to melt within. His form distorted once again. His arms were now tendrils as well, identical to the ones where his head should have been. He dodged another one of Grovalt’s lofty swings and lashed at his back. Blood pooled against his undershirt.
“Not this female… I know of what you have hidden… the woman you led to execution…“
“Shut the hell up!!“ Grovalt spun around and threw all of his weight into a diagonal strike. The frosted blade met Ilzathk’s tendril arm with incredible speed, and promptly severed it. The tendril fell to the floor, still wriggling as if trying to return to its owner.
“Her name… Inara…“
The enigmatic being’s tendrils twitched and writhed. Its jewel started to change color, fading into a darker hue. A blood red rather than its previous teal blue lit its core in a crystalline haze. Its body shook and launched backward, though it kept its stance using its arachnid legs. An invisible force was fighting it, and it was winning. Zenzi, recovering from her mental anguish, stood firmly. Her dark visage may have hid her scar, but the wry smile that appeared on her face was clearly visible.
“Thanks, Grovalt. That helped.“
But he didn’t hear her. The name uttered by Ilzathk repeated again and again in his head. It pierced the folds of his brain, as if it were a railroad spike being hammered into his skull. Inara. It had been so long since he’d heard it from anyone but himself. It may have been since that fateful day. The day his soul plunged into a lake of ennui.
Ilzathk showed no sign of pain after Grovalt’s dismemberment. His gem burned a brilliant crimson. “Yes… that fateful day… return to it…“
Before he could realize it, a muffled silence overtook him. A cold air settled against the pale man’s skin. It wasn’t the suffocating chill of the Imperium. It was a wintery air, filled to the brim with dancing snowflakes. They melted upon settling on his tongue. It was a childish thing to do, but being in the land of his childhood memories, he felt it was the only thing he could do.
“Grovalt, * **** ** **** *** *********.“ A young woman appeared amidst the frosty landscape. Her hair was a silvery blue, and her eyes held an azure coldness that seemed to stop time whenever he looked into them.
“What is it?“
“* **** ***.“
Grovalt hesitated, slightly stunned from what the woman had said. He composed himself, then replied. “You shouldn’t. I haven’t earned it. Besides, don’t you remember why I came here in the first place? Why I met you?“
The young girl nodded, her hair dangling weightlessly in the freezing breeze. A sadness fell upon her face.
“I’m happy. Really. I just feel…“
Feel?
What was he feeling exactly? How could he? Really, how could he feel the cold air against his skin? The snowflakes caking his hair? He couldn’t feel anything since…
“...Grovalt…! Grovalt! Snap out of it!“
The woman before him did not speak. In fact, she was becoming blurry. The snow storm had begun to pick up, and soon the world was coated in a blinding white paint. All was made pale, and his vision went black.
In the chaos and confusion, Ceres found it hard to decide where to go and who to help in the moment. Darriel, Lumi, and Rook were off fighting the mages who had appeared in the hidden room. Maxra was valiantly clashing against the fiendish rogue Venza, their graceful combat mirroring the art of dance. Grovalt and Zenzi were fighting off Ilzathk, though that wasn’t quite right.
Zenzi was fighting him alone, and Grovalt had become something like a statue. He was unmoving. Not as much as a twitch ran through his arms, his legs, nor his fingers. His greatsword, still tight in his iron grip, laid pointed down at his side.
Ceres started to dash towards her friend, but a hand suddenly clasped around her forearm and locked her in place. It was Raum. His untidy hair, dark brown like burnt firewood, could not fully hide his concern. “What is it?“ Ceres asked.
“We ought not interfere. Zenzi can handle it on her own. If we don’t go now, the Sorceress could escape with your sister in tow.“
“But…“ Her words trailed off as she scanned Raum’s face. The way he was talking was as if he already knew the outcome would be sealed by fate. “Is it the same? Like with Lumi? Do you know something we don’t?“
Raum opened his mouth to speak, but Nakir placed a hand on his shoulder before he could elaborate further. The dragon patted him lightly twice. The gesture was soft and wreathed in understanding. He turned to Fatalinya and her followers, who were fighting off the occasional mage that escaped from the mercenaries’ clutches. “You all, come with us. Darriel!“
Before Nakir shouted another word, Darriel reared back and threw a small object at Nakir and the others in a perfect arc. It was something shiny, but Ceres couldn’t tell what it was as it soared in a blurry mess in the air. It made a small clinking sound as it gracefully landed in Nakir’s open palms. Turning around, he revealed it to be a twinkling gem, the very same they had pilfered from Imagon’s remains before.
“Let us go. Quickly. We must not waste the time they have given us.“
The girl, the dragon, the strange man and the remnants of the Resistance departed from the clashing swords and magical engagements. There was an effort made by Venza to stop the group, but Maxra had her locked into a frenzied battle. With worry for her allies and her sister alike growing at her core, Ceres followed closely behind Nakir as they ascended the last remaining floors.