Chapter 6
The Guild
“What’s with the spear, Walter?”
Not the most eloquent of ways to reunite with a companion, but the tip of the mechanical lance that the hunter carried around was more pressing than any jubilation he might have had otherwise. Walter stepped forward, his graying brown hair lifting with the wind. It informed much of what had changed since coming to Dimidia, though not the furious reticence that Walter held at all times. He stepped forward, causing Terrill to take a step back so as to not incur the wrath of the spear pointed at his chest. Terrill’s hand tightened on the his sword as sunlight pooled into the darkened alleyway. The red clay and brick gave Walter an eerie glow, his eyes glinting and unrelenting. Unable to let it last a second longer, Terrill’s sword swung out, batting the spear away.
“I know you remember me, so what the hell?” Walter’s arm fell limply at his side, but Terrill did not approach, too wary of what the man might do. He still didn’t fully understand the return to this new Dimidia, or how Walter might have changed, regardless of memories. Terrill only hoped they had not been poised for failure from the very start. “Did something go wrong between the two worlds? Are there things you’ve forgotten?”
“I fully remember all.” The curt response washed away any hope of Walter being peaceful, but he didn’t raise his spear back up. He simply sighed in frustration. “My soul has come under the control of my body.”
“And your memories…?”
“I have every single one. From the clashes in Invaria and Sheeris to the battle against the Shadow.” As he spoke, the sun continued sliding over, now bathing the alleyway in the shadows of sundown. Terrill brought his blade close, especially at the step that Walter made. That same hatred he had seen over and over again in Adversa haunted the man’s eyes, and this time, his hand started to shake on his spear, rattling the weapon with his constrained fury. “I know you Terrill, and all that we have been through.”
Terrill wasn’t so sure. Walter looked confused, his free hand reaching up to clench at his scarred eye, like there was unendurable pain emanating from it. He let down his guard, reaching for Walter to grip his arm, hoping whatever he was experiencing would come under control. In response, Walter grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. There was knowledge and remembrance there, Terrill knew it for certain now. “What’s going on with you?”
“Krysta…” Walter managed to groan out. At his groan, Walter clasped his head, revealing the source of his pain to be mental, as he had no nicks, cuts or bruises. His mention of Krysta’s name, though, garnered an immediate interest for Terrill. “I saw her, like a ghost. She led me to the forest… To you… But I don’t understand? After everything that man did, how can you still keep him as company?!”
The spear lashed out, the wounded animal that Terrill had seen inside the Shadow roaring with ferocious pain. The sharp edge cut into Terrill’s skin, just breaking the surface and causing blood to trickle out. It was rapidly absorbed by his shirt as he jumped out of range, keeping his knees bent in case of retaliation.
And retaliation was looking like a very real possibility, as Walter appeared to be in anguish. Terrill wasn’t sure for what. Not if he truly remembered everything from their events in Adversa. Either way, Terrill knew he had to try.
“Walter…are you saying this is about Charles?”
“Yes,” Walter seethed. “You saw the memory in the Shadow, of how he slaughtered them all. He’s a devil! A demon in human skin! Why? Why would someone like you keep company with someone like him?!”
“You…” Terrill searched Walter’s face for a clue behind his anguish, wracking his brain for some detail he missed of the confrontation outside the Abyssal Palace. All he could remember was the vengeful Walter, unable to kill his mark, and the death-seeking Charles, controlled by Golbrucht, running himself through. Inside that despair had been truth, and knowing this truth baffled Terrill for why Walter was accusing him of this. There could only be one reasonable explanation. “Walter, are there gaps in your memory? Did the process not go through?”
“I already told you, I remember it all!” Terrill wanted to react, but he was so confused by this wild demeanor of Walter’s that he didn’t stop the hunter from pinning his neck against the wall with his spear. The hunter’s breath was heavy, and the wind around him exerted a force of gravity that Terrill had always felt from Winifred, too: jagged and edgy, wrought with rippling despair. “I remember… I remember…so why?!”
His voice echoed, and voices outside the alleyway indicated that it had drawn attention. Terrill reached up, clasping the shaft of the spear and lightly pushing it away from him. Walter’s eyes were wide, sweat dripping into his beard, and a tear coming out of his functional eye. It was becoming clear to Terrill: the rush of memories, of a man who’d done nothing but hunt, and the same who had his vengeance stolen, were conflicting inside. A tumultuous battle between the fate he was cursed to live with, and the one that had been defied in his stead. Hoping to help him, Terrill grasped Walter by the shoulders and hugged the older man tight.
“I understand…but it’s okay, Walter. Charles isn’t the man you’ve thought him to be, and you know it,” he whispered, careful to not let their words alarm any citizens of Rotarin. The sun had long passed from the alley now. “Every one of us, it’s been twisted by Golbrucht, and by the…by the Lifebloods.”
The disgusting taste in his mouth as he said that felt like a condemnation, particularly of one he actually cared about, but Walter was the primary concern of the moment. He appeared to be coming down from whatever rage-fueled adrenaline he had, but it didn’t stop his shaking, enough so that he forcibly removed Terrill and turned away from him. “He’s a murderer.”
“He’s a pawn. The same way you were. The same way I was,” Terrill corrected. His fist clenching, Terrill knew all too well what being a piece on Golbrucht’s board felt like. Perhaps not to as devastating extents, but enough that his hatred of the Fiend simmered just below the surface. “Can’t you find some understanding in that, Walter? It wasn’t Charles that killed your family.”
“Then who do I have to kill for revenge? Who do I have to hunt down to ensure it never happens again? How can I possibly rebuild if I can’t even do that?” A gale blew out from Walter’s body, pushing Terrill back into the bricks again. He gave no struggle. “The dead demand justice, Terrill.”
“The dead are dead.” Terrill’s snarl forced Walter to look at him, the tears gone and replaced fully with rage. “They can’t come back. They can’t demand anything. And if they did, it’d only be hollow regrets. Is that what you want, Walter? To be hollow?”
“Don’t apply your sanctimonious values to me, Terrill. You claim you want to save everyone, but then you work with the person who’s taken everything from me. I saw it, all while that apparition of Krysta guided me through the forest: you and your vain hopes of saving him. He’s a monster! He can’t be saved!”
“I already told you who’s responsible. If you can’t accept that, that’s on you. I won’t be a party to your stupid revenge. That’s how the Shadow got formed in the first place. I’d have thought you’d learned that, but I guess everyone’s old habits really do die hard.”
“Silence!” Walter rushed at Terrill, but he was ready, lifting his blade to clash with the spear. The second they met, the ground rumbled and the winds shook the window panes. The two elements strained, and with a shattering, completely broke apart. Both were sent sliding backwards, their clash of opposing elements breaking through to each and causing a wound to appear on their respective cheeks.
Walter appeared worse for the wear, dropping to a knee as he heaved, defeated. Terrill would have sheathed his sword, the battle over, but instead stepped forth. “Whether you can accept it or not, Golbrucht is the one behind your pain. If you want peace, to be free, then…”
“What freedom is there in this? I’m a gaping wound. My memories scream for revenge against the Phantom Knight that stole everything, but my soul cries out at its lost cause. The only road I can see is one of bodies and blood, but that makes me no different from him. So, what the hell am I supposed to do, Terrill?!” He was pleading from his soul, and Terrill couldn’t understand why he was here. Did he want to kill Charles? Kill Terrill himself? Or was he so torn up inside he couldn’t decide what he wanted to do. “How did you pull yourself out of that Shadow? How did you pull me?”
“Because I promised to save you. Save everyone.”
“And what’s left when there’s no one left to save, or you can’t save someone?” Terrill frowned, unconsciously tightening his hand. “What happens, then, Terrill? What do you do with lost purpose?”
Lost purpose… Yes, that was what each of them was grappling with, and it broke Terrill inside. He had saved each of them from the despair inside that Shadow, but instead of being free, they had simply lost the one thing that had driven them on in life all this time. Redemption, identity, revenge. Now, Walter was inadvertently taking his own purpose, reminding him of how long the road to save someone really was…and what it would take to do it.
Because Walter’s tortured memories of still desiring revenge in his Dimidian self said it all: so long as the world continued on its course, no one could be saved. Not Walter, nor Lumen nor Charles. Not the Fiends. Not Atrum.
There was just that one path forward.
“Walter, I’ll find purpose. You can find it, too. Come with us, fight Golbrucht, the one who changed all of our lives, and then…you can look for an answer. Find a new purpose.”
“I just…”
“Terrill!” Lumen’s call brought out an immediate reaction, and Terrill turned to the end of the alleyway where the blond boy appeared, waving at him. He was alone, the winds passing through Rotarin causing his hair to flap about. “There you are! We’re moving towards the guild headquarters for some dinner! Hurry up or we’ll miss it!”
“Coming!” Terrill responded in kind. He decided to address Walter one last time, but when he turned back, the man was missing, nary a trace left that he’d ever been there. With a shake of his head, Terrill looked to the rooftops and the fleeing shadow.
Walter was a broken man, who had lost all direction, in desperate need of one. Terrill, however, hoped that time was all he needed to find it, and he’d be waiting when Walter had.
It was Krysta’s purpose that weighed most on Terrill’s mind, though, as he sought to rejoin Lumen and Charles. Why had she led the confused and conflicted Walter to him, if that was what she was doing? Was she trying to show him something? Trying to put him on a path, or make a point? It was utterly lost to him, and all he hoped was to find the answer before it was needed most.
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The food was as delicious as the guildhall was glamorous. The bathwater Terrill experienced that night was as relaxing as the craftsmen of Rotarin were skilled. For the first time since, arguably, he’d arrived in Adversa, Terrill was able to wash off the grime of the day and fill his belly before matters turned to more serious fare. Being allowed to do so brought attention on to the fact he hadn’t, and even Lumen was content and sleepy when the three companions were taken out of the dining hall where the top guildsmen ate to Chloe’s office on the top floor.
Terrill, admittedly, had wanted to linger and chat with some of the craftsmen, and Lumen moreso. Their unparalleled and unwitnessed craft was of much interest, but Charles remained all business until they were comfortably nestled in the guild master’s office. Once there, Chloe sat in what looked like a spinning chair. Terrill would have thought it rickety, but it made no noise at all. She leaned back, staring out the great window that looked upon her city and its wondrous lights. Her cane tapped on the carpeted floor as she thought.
Terrill kept his silence, preferring Charles to handle the “transaction”. He and his sister had discussed much during dinner while Terrill and Lumen spoke with the guildsmen, from those who crafted contraptions, to the noted Gil and Plat, a sword-making couple that ended up providing Lumen and himself with new scabbard. The younger boy also got a hefty shield, coated with reflective metal.
“The latest in our designs!” Plat had jabbered on excitedly, almost sloshing some alcohol upon the team of gearheads bent over and discussing the skyship. “It can reflect light, and we’re working on ways to channel it! Wouldn’t that be wild?”
“Haven’t tried Vincio Metal yet, though? Next is an attempt to make a sword from it!”
The various metals and ores escaped Terrill’s knowledge, but he had been fascinated to listen to them, nonetheless. It left Charles in what looked like negotiations with his sister until a shorter, and more frazzled, man came in to whisper something to Chloe.
All of that had led to here.
Chloe finished tapping her cane, and the chain of her glasses rattled with her exhale. “Beautiful sight, isn’t it, Charles? What Rotarin has been built into.”
“I’m more impressed by the camaraderie of your guild,” Charles remarked to his sister. She didn’t turn away, absorbed by the beautiful lights. “That all of the different sectors of Rotarin could sit at the same table, regardless of field or prestige.”
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“It was my chief purpose upon becoming guildmaster.” Terrill found himself nodding, liking the way the woman thought, and thinking back to Valorda and Invaria’s squabbles in Adversa. Had anything changed there? Had it bled over into here? Chloe’s continued musings derailed that thought line and returned Terrill to the realm of the conversation. “I want Rotarin to be a blueprint for the future, Charles. Bright lights, towering buildings, and ships that ply the skies! I’m so close I can taste it. The prototype is complete, and we’re already working on plans for the next model. With production, we could have a whole fleet produced in a matter of years! Imagine the kind of boon these creations will bring to the world.”
“It’s a scary thought, to me…” Lumen uttered, eliciting no reaction from the woman. “A future so unknown is scary.”
“It’s thrilling.” Another tap of her cane and Chloe at last turned around, her face framed by the bizarre lamp on her table, one that burned not with fire or oil, but a different thing altogether. “Humanity is known for pushing its boundaries in wonderful, beautiful ways. The settlers here were given barren land, and in it created mines and quarries. They discovered metals, ores, and eventually, compositional elements that could be used to forge what we call a Flight Core. Through perusal of ancient documents, we worked tirelessly until, at long last, our labor bore their fruits: a ship that can rise to the heavens.”
“What is that? Some kind of message that humanity can overcome the goddess?” Terrill said, his voice edging on a joke, but refusing to commit to it. Chloe lowered her glasses at the suggestion, grunting with a suppressed chuckle.
“It is a statement that with the combined knowledge and manpower, humanity can rise against any challenge. They need not rely solely on the words of old for sustenance. We need to take matters into our own hands. That is what Rotarin has striven for.” Terrill couldn’t help but agree, crystallizing the thoughts that had been brewing, formless, within his head. Chloe wasn’t talking merely about crafting machines that leaped beyond human imagination; she was talking about designing and coming together to overcome a destiny that had bound humanity to the ground. Something beyond destiny and fate.
Something Terrill felt was within his reach.
But Chloe continued to speak. “Yet now, dear brother, you tell me of a country so set in barbaric ways that they would kill children. And you, Mister Jacobs, mention of a war between Valorda and Invaria that has never happened? Your combined story strains credulity at best, and yet… I cannot help but believe it.”
“You…do?” Terrill was skeptical, and it didn’t abate at the woman’s further chuckling.
“Why not? Flooding at a city not by the shore. Fires and earthquakes. There are not natural, and as scientists researching the ancient crafts, we would be remiss in discounting possibilities beyond our present knowledge. After all, you say you’ve seen a flying ship, yourselves.” Chloe’s cane left her hands, leaning against her desk while her fingers started to drum on it. She was deep in thought, which only one of them was willing to break her out of.
“Chloe, you know why I told you all this.”
“Yes, yes, Charles, I’m aware,” was the snappy retort. The change in tone indicated her displeasure, and Terrill’s heart began to sink in the new turn to negotiations. Lumen grimaced, too, but Charles kept his straight face. “You and your companions have become enemies of the state and need the skyship to fight some great battle against some unholy demon force like in the war. Honestly, do people never learn?”
“I don’t know if I’d call the instigator a person,” Terrill said with a mutter. “But we do need a way to get around quick.”
“Well, then we have various options.” The cane was picked up again, and a thick book that was hidden behind the lamp on her table was pushed across, sliding off of it and landing on the smaller table nestled between the three men. “A steam-powered boat. Faster than your average by cutting a travel time in third. There are smaller skiffs, too, but they cannot cross large distances. Ah, we did try to replicate the teleportation device in Serotin, but as it turns out, the theory behind it just doesn’t work at present.”
“That’s not an option anyway,” Terrill said, pushing the book back to her. Chloe blinked in Terrill’s direction, hardly expecting his direct refusal. “Not here, and not with what I think it uses. That’s what we’re trying to avoid.”
“Very vague of you, boy, but it won’t change your case.”
“Wait a minute… Do you mean…the skyship we came for is off-limits?” Lumen asked, just catching up to the vague meanings behind Chloe’s words. Tapping his fingers on his new scabbard, Terrill wanted to glare at Charles’s sister. She was as crafty as she was keen, a woman who decidedly deserved to sit at the table with people like Phillip or Mayor Rainert. And that was all well and good, but not for Terrill and their efforts. Charles sighed once Lumen’s question was asked.
“Yes, it would seem that’s what my dear sister is saying.”
“But we came all this way!” The whining did not affect a smidgen of emotion from the woman. She pursed her lips all the further. “Surely you can reconsider after hearing our-”
“Your story? Young man, I may believe you, but your story is as ludicrous as everyone told us we were when we embarked on this project. I can’t go bandying about my precious skyship on such a foolhardy endeavor. Sayn and Chosen Ones! Hah! That country has long had ideas backwards. Why did you ever go to such a backwater country, Charles?”
“I had my reasons, and clearly you have yours,” Charles said. He kicked his boots up, his dark eyes boring into his sister’s while neither refused to budge an inch. “However, what good is your project if not revealed to the world?”
“That is the guild’s decision to make in due time, not yours. And I don’t want to hear such a suggestion from someone who left this city in the dust when the war came around. Do you know Samuel nearly died defending Rotarin? Daniel almost had his arm removed. And this cane? Not just for show. Meanwhile, you were gallivanting at playing knight or some other nonsense.”
“No, instead you just remained holed up here, concealed from the world like always.”
“The world knows exactly where we are, brother!” Chloe had stood, her chair spinning with abandon before toppling over. Charles matched his sister, and Terrill knew it to be a poor time to intervene.
“And yet, they do not care. Face it, Chloe, without people, your machines are worthless.”
“You’re damn right about that. My people are all that matter to me. Just like the pilot who was injured in this morning’s events.” Her words sobered Charles up, his hand scratching at his stubble with a concerned groan. Agitated taps followed. “Never considered that, did you? Of course not. You’re not someone to stand your ground, Charles. Never have been. Always wanting to jet off to the next thing. You stand for nothing.”
“Chloe, this isn’t the time to air-”
“But, I can’t blame you. We both inherited that part of mom and dad in our ways, rest their souls. You like to run and take the easy way out. I like to hole myself up with my work, avoiding making that first contact. You and I both loathe dealing with the reality before us. What a pair, the Archovy siblings.”
Charles said nothing at his sister’s diatribe, and no one could blame him. Harsh though they may have been, Terrill knew them to be true. Charles did, as well. From the downcast quiver of Lumen’s lips, there wasn’t a soul in the room that didn’t agree. The proof had been there from the beginning, and with it, Charles sat down. Terrill watched him, mulling over Chloe’s words. She was distressed by them, rubbing her temples, and Terrill hit upon a strategy swifter than expected. “If you know cutting off contact is a mistake, why not change it right now? Announce your project to the world with blazing colors! Rotarin is here! World’s first skyship! Er…well, world’s first single-man skyship!”
“Hah, you’re a gas, young Mister Jacobs.” Chloe’s exhaustion melted with her laughter, and Terrill caught sight of the woman she must have been thirty years ago, her wrinkles gone. “Unfortunately for you, shrewd as your tactics are, it does not change that there is no pilot, and the skyship will remain in Rotarin until we are ready to proceed with the next phase. One project alone does not a success make.”
“But what if we become pilots?” The suggestion was accompanied by Terrill slinging his arm around Lumen, and then a hearty chortle from Chloe.
“Have you ever captained a ship before?”
“Er…I’ve sailed on one…?” And Lumen’s puked on one…Terrill quickly began to realize how sour this line of thought was going.
“Yes, I thought so. Well, my pilot was a decent captain once upon a time. If you’ve just the layman’s understanding of seafaring, I highly doubt you’ll grasp the concept of skyfaring without crashing my baby.” The guild master took to rubbing her temples again, leaning against her desk as the strain of whatever old scar she bore began to exhaust her. “Look, I’m sympathetic to your plight, all of you, but this just is not possible. That skyship is our pride and joy, currently the only one of its kind, forsaking some miracle. I cannot allow it to leave. You, however, are free to come and go as you will. There’s good work to be had here, and should the army of Sayn come knocking, I protect my guild members. You’re welcome to stay.”
Terrill appreciated the offer, but his face didn’t convey that whatsoever. Chloe considered the book closed, though, offering a curt nod that said they were dismissed. She righted her chair, sat upon it, and proceeded to promptly ignore them. Charles’s laborious sigh spoke for all of them, and he was the first to get up and leave, pausing only at the room’s threshold. “Your hospitality is appreciated, sister. Give Samuel my regards.”
Her humming vocalization was all he received in turn.
Terrill scratched the back of his head, trying to find some loophole or way to change the woman’s mind, and finding nothing. The woman had already pulled a pack of papers over and began to sign them with hawkish glances.
The skyship was out of their reach.
Walter had gone out of his reach.
Terrill was worried, too, that the entire situation was far out of his reach, and he was running out of options to remedy it all.
“So, what do we do next? Get jobs here and work up to get a ship?” Lumen asked when they were descending the hall stairs. Charles provided no answer, his sister’s words troubling him, but Terrill wasn’t going to play counselor. He had his own issues to figure out, and all of them revolved around Golbrucht and whatever he had planned next. “Terrill? Charles?”
“I don’t care… I thought Chloe might listen to me, but this was a wasted trip.”
“Wow, you really do just give up, don’t you?” Terrill’s ceasing steps echoed around the guildhall’s entrance as they stopped upon stone. The doors to the city were still open, framing Charles’s body. “Just gave in to Sayn, gave in to Golbrucht. And all else fails, you just die. Charles, I thought you wanted to fight.”
“And how do you expect we fight, Terrill? We have no means of movement, and the world is about to destroy itself in the first place.”
“I…hmmm…” He didn’t have the answer, and he hated that. It reminded him of how he’d just jump feet first into any situation, thinking it would save people, only for it to get worse and worse. He hadn’t had answers then, either. Floyd had reminded him of that. “Floyd…”
“The redhead? With the fire?” Lumen asked, craning over to get a better look at Terrill’s face. The Guardian’s eyes glazed, staring past Charles to the centerpiece of Rotarin, the giant hangar where the skyship rested. “Terrill?”
The call of his name went in one ear and out the other, all of Terrill’s faculties focused on the darkened building with little red lights and a small force of guards outside it. It was as protected as it was important, but in staring, Terrill saw the one undefended aspect: the windows up high. His lips began to twist into a smirk, and his thoughts of Floyd burned a new possibility into his head. It was one he would have never considered before meeting the redhead, but now that he was a branded traitor with nothing left to lose at the end of the world, it was the best idea he’d had yet.
“I think we should just steal it.”
“Steal it? My sister would see you hanged.”
“She can’t get to us if we’re in the air,” Terrill reminded Charles, slapping him on the back while he ran into the moonlit streets. None of the guards saw him as he darted to the side, his dumbstruck companions left behind. He made little noise, too, careful to not attract attention as he circled around to the side of the hangar. Each part was exposed, and any passerby would catch him the second he approached, but Terrill kept himself to the cover of shadow and nightfall until he could catch a gap in the guards.
Not long passed before he found it; inventors and tinkerers they may have been, but their stock on security was remarkably low. Not asking permission, Terrill prepared himself to launch for the high windows, but two sets of hands pulled him back, his butt hitting the ground.
“Are you mad?” were Charles’s harsh whispers. Next to him was Lumen, panting from the exertion of his sprint. “Aren’t you supposed to be the hero in these situations? Not a thief?”
“And aren’t you two supposed to be Guardian and Chosen One?” Terrill shot back, pushing himself onto his knees and eyeing the window that was his destination. “Because all I’ve been seeing lately are two people who can’t just accept that they’re still alive and don’t know what to do with that. Well, you know what? I’m done. I’m done playing by Golbrucht’s rules if all it nets us is this.
“Time to do some things he might not expect.”
Terrill pressed lightly to the ground, feeling that earth beneath his feet, his soul beginning to give it solid form. Charles and Lumen had no opportunity to hold him down, and the pillar of earth rose beneath his feet, carrying him upwards within the sight of the moon before he was at the top, near the window. With a leap of faith, Terrill’s foot came crashing through, louder than intended as he soared into the hangar…and began to fall.
It was a miscalculation, one he hated himself for, along with the many others he was making in this unpredictable move of his. To mitigate that, he tried something else unpredictable, outstretching his hand and feeling for the floor where he would land, willing it to soften into mud before he could splat upon it.
His feet hit first, and found success, the softness of the floor now wet dirt that allowed him to hit the bottom and roll, unharmed. He waited for a second, listening only to his breathing. Someone had to have heard his crash in, but no one was storming the hangar, and inside it was silent like the grave.
With no one coming, Terrill looked up, and the first thing he saw was the tremendous design of the hangar, with metal beams crisscrossing the ceiling and holding it together. Where there were no beams, instead Terrill saw a split in the roof, like it could open up for whatever reason. His eyes trailed downward and soon settled on the remarkable invention. Sleeker than the Wind Fortress, Terrill could now see this vaunted skyship in full. Its wings were large, with something like a turbine for wind and even conical shapes that Terrill had no idea of their function. There were ladders on each segment, and as Terrill padded forward, he saw a ramp that could lead into the skyship proper. Nothing else mattered once he saw that. He aimed for it, just as a creak and snapping interrupted his thoughts.
“Such a marvelous invention of man’s. Testament that they can defy the goddess and her plan,” a voice called, echoing around the hangar and causing Terrill to stop short. It was a mistake he never should have made. “And yet, what a sin to cross fate and not be punished. I’ll not allow you to cross one who would change that. Burn.”
The heat in the hangar rose, perspiration instantly forming on Terrill’s neck. He looked up, and a blossom of black flame exploded near the ceiling. It didn’t stop there, various points around the room suddenly bursting into flames of darkness. One appeared near Terrill’s feet and he jumped to the side, only for the cracking to reach its end. Without much warning, one of the support beams snapped off and fell downward, straight for Terrill. He reached up, stones emerging from the earth to stop it, but not fast enough. He fell, and the bar landed on his chest, the impact of it deadened by his attempts to stop it.
Pinned, Terrill could not reach for his sword as more fire spread around the hangar, and the building began to fill with acrid smoke. Terrill choked on it, trying to use his magic to push the bar off him, but as soon as a clot of earth formed, a roaring flame, in the form of a dragon, would cut it to pieces. Relenting under the weight, but kicking his legs, Terrill looked to see that the entire hangar was on fire, inching perilously close to the skyship.
Then, the instigator split the fire and walked through it, hands clasped, and utterly impossible.
“You’re…” Terrill coughed out, unable to believe his eyes. He thought it was the heat causing a delusion. He hoped it was the heat causing a delusion.
“It has been a long time, boy. Let us finish what we started, so that our King may break fate once and for all to free us from this endless cycle of damnation the goddess cursed us to!”
The flames grew hotter, the nighttime no longer mattering with how brightly they burned in spite of their black sheen. Not that Terrill needed them to see who was addressing him, because he already knew he was looking at a ghost. An impossible, unbelievable but absolute real ghost. It caused but one thing to tumble from his mouth.
“You’re supposed to be dead, Blaise!”
“But I am very much alive. Now, let us begin the purification of this world.”