Chapter 12
The Miracle
“The western wall has fallen! All available swords to the western wall!” The rallying cry was met in kind, the Valordan forces seeking to defend their fort by charging through the remains of the wall. The Invarian army had yet to advance, though Terrill could see the abyss of their cannons, waiting to fire. The only thing holding them back were the flames that lit up the night sky, courtesy of Floyd. It was an utter mess.
“Clay, let me go. I can still fight!” Beyond the dust and debris, Winifred was beating on her companion, but he refused to relinquish his hold upon her. Conversely, Alexander had let Terrill stand on his own two feet, his robe sweeping outwards as he approached the point of the broken wall that neither side dared to approach.
“No, you’ve done quite enough, Winifred,” Clay said, his beard twitching with the wind. “Look at you, allowing your despair at facing Valorda once again to allow his shadow to grow enough and be cut. You’re barely hanging on as it is.”
“How was I supposed to know that brat could cut them?!” She seemed a small child in Clay’s hold, despite being an adult woman. It made her insignificant, a tool in someone else’s game, and Terrill began to believe her user was Clay, himself. He was far too collected, with not a hint of Atrum’s possession hanging around him. No, he seemed perfectly in control of himself, and it was for this reason that Alexander seemed particularly on edge.
“Either way, they have been cut. I can feel the shift in the earth. You’re worn down enough that your hold on the Lifeblood has loosened, as has his.” To emphasize his point, Clay let go of the woman, and Winifred fell, unable to maintain her balance. Terrill was right there with her, realizing that he was bruised and bloody all over, his legs helping him to stand through no conscious thought of their own, but merely because they didn’t have the strength to collapse. They had both beaten each other ragged.
And still, Terrill thought, if Warren’s form was to be believed, she hadn’t been using her true strength at all.
“So, he means to play at shadows, does he?” Alexander said, his voice booming. Some soldiers cowered, but many more were oblivious, charging through dust and flame to meet the Invarian army head on. The booms of the cannons rocked what remained of Fort Tierial, and Terrill pitched backwards to find himself supported. “Tying Lifebloods, and then tying together shadows of despair. You played a risky gambit, Clay, sending your protégé in to deal with war. You must have known her despair would get the better of her.”
“And you must have feared it, Alexander. Why else would you come here?” Clay’s hand shined with undulating stones until an axe formed in his hold. With a simple stroke, he cleaved at the ground, leaving Winifred behind as he approached the older man. “The only answer is that we are at a crossroads of fate, and one which you intend to keep on course.”
“Nothing good comes from defying fate’s plan. You and I both know that.” Alexander had finished talking, something that Clay knew. With a strike of his staff, a ray of light appeared, illuminating the entire fort like a beacon. That light barreled for Clay, tearing at the ground before he heaved his axe and split the light in two. At the same time, the ground rumbled and four walls surrounded Alexander, trapping him within an earthen pyramid. That pyramid soon exploded, the stones falling between the two like rain. It was effortless on both sides.
“What…what are they…?” Lumen breathed in Terrill’s ear. The boy helped him to stand, but couldn’t find the words to explain. Having no explanation, Lumen walked forward, closer to the battle between the two, only for Alexander to thrust his staff back, creating a barrier between them. Lumen fell back on his butt, watching the battle with widened eyes. “That…that man…”
Terrill didn’t know who he was talking about, but lunged for the boy as Alexander’s staff whirled, creating a tunnel of light that consumed Clay’s entire figure. The Fiend was not slouching in battle, however, his monolithic shields glowing red as they burst from the ground. It took the brunt of the blow, allowing Clay to teleport in a whirl of stones, appearing behind Alexander. Their staff and axe clashed, the outpouring of magical energy threatening to topple them over. Lumen was blown into Terrill, holding him fast against the blowing winds. The screams of soldiers filled the air, but many more a war cry outside the fort overpowered them.
Alexander’s staff strained, but Terrill saw a smirk stretch his face, light blossoming at its tip. It fluttered off, becoming a shard that hung in midair, just like Krysta’s attacks. Clay grinned at the sight of it, and with a spin, broke off of his own attack. His axe planted itself in the ground, his arms stretched wide. The ground bubbled, glowing red with the force of the Fiend’s newest attack. As Alexander fired his light, Clay shot off his vines of darkness, each meeting in the same place.
The explosion between the attacks tore apart the fort, ripping at what remained of the tower and sending rocks flying, smashing against other walls and soldiers without care. One aimed for them, and with a split-second decision, Lumen threw up his shield, the honeycomb spell causing the stones to break upon them without causing harm. This move drew the attention of both combatants, now realizing Terrill and Lumen were in the line of fire.
“So, this is the brat she meant?” Clay remarked, his lips stretching to a toothy grin as he lay eyes upon Lumen. Terrill gripped his friend, pulling him up and holding his sword forward in defense. This action made Clay laugh. “Of course. Light can pierce shadows, yet not many who are fond of the light remain. It would make sense that one whose shadow has been split from him could sever those bonds.”
“What is that gibberish supposed to mean?” Terrill shouted. Every pore on his body was screaming with the effort to keep standing, or even resist the wicked aura from Clay’s body. His revelation brought him much amusement, and even brought Alexander to a halt as he observed Lumen. The boy couldn’t speak, his eyes fixated on Clay.
“Let me ask you, boy, when will you stop dragging your feet?” Clay’s voice was as booming as Alexander’s, and Terrill felt his body quake. Something about the way he was speaking made Terrill feel as if he had missed some incredibly important detail, and it was making him sick inside. “You know what awaits you and your brother. You know why he wishes you to join him. To avert fate’s call, that which awaits all Chosen Ones.
“Death.”
Terrill’s hands tightened, his nails digging into Lumen’s arm, the boy shivering. When Terrill looked down, however, he saw that Lumen was not afraid of this declaration about death or fate.
No… He was resigned to it. Had accepted it.
Always playing the Guardian, never really knowing it was built on a lie.
Winifred’s words hadn’t rocked him then, but the thought now was enough to steal his breath away. Was Clay lying? Lumen’s reaction suggested not, and it meant that at the core of it, Sayn’s Chosen Ones had always been sent to the slaughter. Sent to an incontrovertible end from which there was no return.
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” Lumen said, stuttering with almost every word. The fight was on pause, but the battle continued, each and every eye upon Lumen as he pointed to Clay. “You look just like him. The first…the first Chosen One.”
Terrill let go, swooning at the implications of what Lumen was saying. He had always thought Clay looked familiar to him, but couldn’t remember where he had seen it or when. Now, however, the truth was plain as he could recall the chiseled statue inside Sayn’s castle. He had only seen it twice, and it had never been all that important, but with the beard taken away, Terrill could start to see Clay’s resemblance to the Chosen One from legend. The one who had first battled the King of the Dark. The ones who, he now realized, were always meant to do battle with Golbrucht and die.
The Guardians were only meant to lead them to the slaughter.
Have you ever wanted to defy destiny?
Was that it? Had Atrum known all along that Lumen was going to die? Or was there something deeper? As if some different fate awaited for him that he wanted to avert, but had now come to accept. Terrill’s mind was breaking at the possibilities of what this meant, and his eyes searched the sky, where the shadow continued to grow, its malignant force blotting out the stars.
“So, that’s how he circumvented it,” Alexander said, bringing Terrill back to the present. He still couldn’t stop his shallow breaths, but the words reminded him of the one thing he couldn’t do in that moment, lest he help the Shadow grow. “He split the two at birth in the hopes of subverting the prophecy, and gave the Adversan soul physical form. Taking a page from the goddess it would seem. It must have spent him. I was wondering why he chose to be less active until the war, but now it makes sense. He crafted a vessel, indeed! That crafty King!”
King…? Terrill’s eyes widened.
It couldn’t be possible. It shouldn’t have been possible. Yet, everything before his eyes that should have been deemed impossible, still was so. It was far too much.
“And so, the Guardian sees it, the empire of lies, built on a vague prophecy. But you know the truth, don’t you, Alexander?” Clay said, his wicked lips filling their heads. The older man didn’t look happy, and turned his withering gaze upon the Fiend who did not flinch. “You know how this ends! You know that the world will head for destruction in time! The flow demands it!”
“And that is why he wishes to break it?! I permitted him to run around Sayn because he was not a threat, yet now I see he’s been busy crafting vessels and perverting the flow of souls!” Alexander’s staff shined forward, its light ray ripping into Clay. The older man didn’t look satisfied as his beam struck the tower, cutting along its surface and slicing the Fiend in half.
It did no such thing.
When the light receded, Clay had transformed. Where once a man stood was now a skeletal visage of tattered robes and bony structure. His axe had become twisted and his body weathered with age. Every step carried with it the disturbing stench of death. “All to break the cycle that drove Sayn made! All for his own preservation! To subvert the prophecy that called for death in mass order for nothing!”
The axe swung and met the staff, and from that epicenter, fissures were formed in an instant, cracking along the fortress. The tower snapped in two, its upper ends splitting apart from the force of the attacks near them. Some soldiers fell into the cracks, while others ran away, and near the wall, Winifred limped forward, watching with vested interest. Terrill wanted to vomit.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Lumen…” he breathed out, a rattled breath that held back the bile in his throat. “Is it true…? Is it…?”
The royal bit his lip, and inside Terrill began to despair. He shook his head, not wanting to hear it. Not now, when so much was at stake. “The Chosen One is a legacy stained with blood to lead to prosperity, and mine most of all was meant to bring…greater prosperity.”
“Yes, to break the flow in two! But the world, and its souls, has no shortage of irony!” The axe followed through, knocking Alexander’s staff aside before the red tendrils sprouted from the ground and pummeled the older man in the stomach. He was winded, flying back but tapping his staff on the ground, a circle of runes appearing around Clay’s figure. Unable to avoid it, the Fiend laughed. “Try to avoid the chains of fate. Oh, but they pull tighter! A man who tried to kill the King, cursed to create a cycle where many more die. A vessel born from a Chosen One so they would cheat death, only to clash nonetheless! And a war to rip the world off its foundations. None of it matters to fate! None of it matters to the greater flow instilled by Crea to happen at the appropriate time!”
The light exploded upwards, its column searing the night sky. Many on the battlefield stopped for a moment, their eyes burning from the sudden light, and the force of wind that Alexander’s attack had created lifted both Terrill and Lumen off their feet. They were flung towards the wall, into the armies and rolling along. Terrill slapped the ground, hauling himself to his feet as he saw Clay emerge from the light, his body rotting, but remaining an unstoppable force that clashed with Alexander.
“So, that’s what it is, Lumen? You were always supposed to die? You just…accepted that?” Terrill’s hands dug at the dirt, long turned to a pulp from the numerous feet stamping over it. A cannon fired, nearly missing the duo, and Terrill’s jaw clenched.
“One can’t change what one’s destiny is. I had to accept it.”
“And Atrum…?” Terrill’s hands were turning purple. A cough sounded out from near him, a soldier collapsing as the shadows grew thick, corroding the land and all of those in its presence. Their chance to stop its formation was slipping away.
It had meant nothing. Every action he’d taken, every travel he’d made, every person he inspired…it amounted to nothing. It was a rock in the stream that fate could care less about. Even the Lifebloods knew that, or had to have known that. He was insignificant to the world’s larger plan, and this moment was the world trying to tell him there was no need to continue fighting at all.
But Atrum hadn’t accepted it.
Terrill’s hand unclenched, the realization settling in. Not because of this insane plan to rip the world apart with enough devastation to change the world’s flow. Not because of his supposed connection with Lumen.
No, Atrum had to have known, and still he kept fighting. Still, he kept telling Terrill to find Lumen, to keep going. Not as an enemy, but a friend. The best friend he had always known and believed in. In those moments, he didn’t believe Terrill or his own life was irrelevant.
Fate or no, there was still a reason to keep fighting.
“Well, I don’t accept it, Lumen!” He pounded the ground with his fist, standing up as best as he could while war raged around him. He looked towards the central courtyard, where Clay and Alexander remained. “I don’t accept your death! I don’t accept whatever this world has planned! And I don’t accept whatever he thinks will save it from that! I’m here to make sure a miracle happens, and I’ll keep fighting until it does!”
“But Terrill…”
“Stand up and fight, Lumen! Don’t just accept it and give in! Don’t you want to live?!”
What scared him the most was that Lumen’s eyes showed he didn’t know. He had lived so long in the shadow of death, he couldn’t imagine life, and confronted with the reality of it once again, he had no answer. “I don’t have a choice.”
“That’s bullshit!” Terrill roared. With the magical energy he had left, Terrill whipped around and plunged his sword to the ground. The armies raced at each other, but between them, stone walls emerged, cutting them off from another. It was a temporary fix, Terrill knew that with his heaving breaths, but it was a little bit of time they would not have had otherwise. “We always have a choice! We always make our own decisions! We can’t just give up and die because fate said so or because we’re taught we don’t matter! We do matter! Every choice matters! And I choose to protect everyone here so that no one else has to die!”
“Stop being…naïve!” Winifred’s savage cry was all he had to turn and raise his blade against her claw. The energy ripped more holes into the battlefield as Clay’s stone pillars were sliced apart by Alexander’s lasers of light. “You can’t go against fate. You can’t fight it. Look, Terrill! Look what happens to people when they fight fate! They become monsters! Cursed! Just because you’re Blessed doesn’t mean-”
“I don’t care!” Terrill’s fist hardened, and with all the magic and strength he could muster, he brought it straight into Winifred’s face, slamming her into the ground. The earth shook, cratering beneath his attack and causing the shadow to waver in the air. “I have to…keep going. I have to save them. I won’t allow someone to tell me my choices won’t matter. I’ll break your damn shadow, and I’ll free you!”
His fist descended once more, but never met its mark. Stones raced around him, and Terrill could see Clay disappear from where he had clashed with Alexander. There was a split second to react, and in that moment, Terrill raised his sword. The full brunt of Clay’s swing transferred into his blade, chipping away a piece of the sword as he was flung off Winifred. His body hit the cracked ground, rolling along as he felt some ribs break and blood oozed from his abdomen. Terrill coughed, but still he tried to stand, planting his sword and gasping as he held himself up. Lumen ran to him, trapped between accepting his destiny and wanting Terrill to keep fighting. That confusion helped the Guardian to stand.
“You cannot free us. Not so long as we remain in the King’s domain,” Clay said, grabbing Winifred by the back of her tunic. She was out of it, but still had the energy to glare at Terrill in defiance. To him, it was a challenge: a challenge to see if he could save her, after all. That glare faded, and Terrill watched as the same black strings they had cut began to tie themselves from the shadow back into her. “See? Just as fate will always correct its course, so are we eternally bound to the one who stitches shadows. One change will do nothing, just as one departure will not end a war.
“But keep fighting, Terrill Jacobs. You will understand our plight, when you see despair and know you cannot keep going. There is nothing you can do to change it.”
Terrill wanted to chase after them, but his body was too weak for it, taking everything he had to stand. Fort Tierial was almost decimated, the war becoming a chaotic battlefield with no flags, and soldiers in different armors hacking away as bombs and arrows were let loose. It was a wonder he remained alive at all, only finding the strength to glare at the pair of Fiends who had tried to drive him into despair, trying to make him a reflection of their own.
To that, Terrill straightened with what strength he could, and said, “Maybe not, but I can try. I can try to save you.”
“Hm. Admirable. But a Fiend cannot be saved,” Clay said. Already the stones were rising around him and Winifred, while behind, Alexander made no move, clutching where Clay’s attacks had injured him. “You see, we are those that are cursed, in the same way you are blessed. An antithesis to humanity. An antithesis to heroes. Those who live in the shadows, because they slipped past the grip of light. There is no saving those who have lost the light. You will see. Very soon.
“Very soon…”
His words echoed like the dust in the wind, and the pair of Fiends disappeared from the battlefield, leaving nothing but the war behind.
It didn’t change a thing. The armies continued clashing. Terrill began to fall.
“You pushed yourself to the limits again, didn’t you, Terrill?”
“As if you need to ask. He looks like minced meat. Where’s Krysta in all this?” Terrill smiled in spite of the overwhelming odds against their goal, as his body was supported by the lithe arms of Floyd, both the boy and his girlfriend propping him up.
“Busy elsewhere, and someone had to put in the work because you two idiots are late.” Torry whacked him on the back of the head. To avoid further blows, Floyd began carrying Terrill forward, through the armies towards the fort. The king and his advisors were outside now, the tower collapsing in on itself from the battles. Each had their eye on Alexander, but none dared approach the guest on the battlefield. It was near him that they drew, however, the man grunting and gasping with a sneer.
“In some way, I can understand his need for a new body, hah…” Floyd dropped Terrill at Alexander’s statement, causing his knees to hit the ground. Lumen wandered behind them, lost in a daze, but all of them were staring to the shadow in the sky, growing larger. Even Phillip and his advisors were pointing, the world on the edge of its destruction.
“Don’t tell me we got here too late,” Torry said. “What about the Wind Fortress? Isn’t there anything we could do?”
“All that’s left is…to wait…” Terrill said, his chest hurting with every breath. “Unless…you can seal it, Alexander.”
“I cannot seal everyone’s souls at once. That would be ruinous, and I have no desire to. These souls need to remain. If I were younger, perhaps I would be able to do more, but as it now stands…” Alexander gave a beleaguered sigh, his staff tapping on the ground while he leaned on it. The battle with Clay had taken more out of him than anyone expected; versed in knowledge he may have been, but a fighter he was not.
There was nothing left for them to do.
The strings shot through the air from that hanging shadow, preparing to draw the last of death and despair while they watched. Terrill refused to give in and become part of it like Winifred had, watching all of the strands climbing ever higher until they stretched to the west, across the larger sea, using the Lifeblood of Darkness as its energy source. More people fell, coughing with the shadow that invaded them, and many more clasped their heads in a reaction not at all dissimilar to those from the Wind Fortress.
Once more, Terrill considered praying.
A strand of the shadow came crashing down, slowly becoming more than wisps. It was, instead, a sharp edge that sought to impale Alexander, before he threw his shield up to block the blow and protect them. It curdled from the light, but the old man couldn’t suffer another spell, clasping to his chest and dropping the barrier. Another sinewy strand shot forward, branching into many. Floyd and Torry moved to protect the wounded ones, with the latter firing an arrow that spread with flame. It momentarily halted the creature.
Then its countless edges broke through with killing intent to skewer them all with no remorse. Terrill tried to lift his blade to beat it off, and as he brought it to the air…the shadow stopped.
Trapped in midair, it hung there, and then Terrill saw it start to waver before their very eyes. Between solid and aerosol it transferred back and forth. The creature was unstable, and many of the strings began to snap and break. Confusion was reflected on their faces, but that, too, lasted but a moment. It was replaced with a slowly blooming smile across Terrill’s face as the ground began to shake, but this time, it wasn’t from Clay.
The air was changed, cleaner and crisper than it was before. The stench of death was blown away, and the Shadow sensed it deep within. Lumen turned and ran for the southern rampart, still intact as he climbed up amidst the ceaseless shaking. There was a crack and a great rush of wind, and the air began to glow green. The Shadow pulled back, curling in on itself. Lumen looked back.
“It’s the southern peninsula! It’s coming, Terrill!”
“What’s coming?” Floyd asked, and Terrill could only grin.
The green light faded in the night sky, and for the first time, the soldiers stopped fighting, this newest sound reverberating across the entire continent. No, the entire world!
Terrill didn’t need to look to know that a new shadow was approaching from the south, its familiar mechanical whirring filling the air. Its foreign sound affected both nations, a calming breeze wafting across them as many dropped their weapons from the newest arrival.
The boom of the cannons from Invaria’s ship still sounded, but soon, they too were silenced. From the rising shadow of the Fortress in the sky, flying at greater speed, a more ancient cannon was deployed, firing a burst of wind that struck the bay and rained water, calling for a ceasing of hostilities. Many saw it cover the moon, and many stopped to stare. Phillip dropped to his knees.
“It’s real…” he breathed, heard in the silence that this new air brought to the courtyard. “The legends were real.”
“It’s a flying ship!” Floyd and Torry shouted together, pointing at the great black fortress in the sky.
It primed another cannon, this one aimed at the growing shadow, before it fired, impacting with the strung together darkness and blasting it into tiny particles. Those particles hung there in the silence and then, with the fighting dying down and all eyes aimed towards the sky, it vanished, disappearing to the west.
In one moment, the battle at Fort Tierial had come to an end.
“No,” Terrill breathed, looking to the Wind Fortress, framed by the moon, “it’s a miracle.”