Two moons stood in the sky, the larger of them obscuring the world’s star, denying it the chance to witness the horror below. The land stretched before the celestial bodies, a sea of mutilated corpses and shattered armour strewn amongst them.
A man stood, silently observing. His black hair rustled with the cries of the damned. Atop a small mountainous hill, even the twitch of an ant couldn’t escape his gaze. A sheathed sword hugged his hips, a bright white gem implanted on the sword’s ricasso.
From above, snowflakes of ash tapped his head. He swept his hand through his hair. Staring at the cinders now gathered on his palm, he blew them away. The ash settled on the ground, amongst the rest of its kind, a massive layer having already been built up across the battlefield.
“The people’s dolour... I will quench it.” A deep voice emanated.
He watched the eclipse cast shadows across the realm, slowly painting the world in darkness. It crawled its way up to the massive fortress on the horizon.
Foreboding, the bastion loomed, its twisted black spires rising like the claws of an ancient beast. The air around it cackled with dark energy, the very stone pulsing, alive with the will of Malum. A place where hope went to die.
“Illudo, we shall convene soon…” Softly spoken words.
“Sire, the preparations are nigh complete.” The voice from behind broke the man out of his thoughts.
Following the words from his most trusted lieutenant, he gave the fortress a last piercing glare before turning around. In front of him, as far as the eye could see, stood a massive array of tents, torches and troops milling about. Tired faces, gritty hands, broken legs. There was not a single person untouched by weariness, yet none dawdled in their tasks.
And further beyond, though he could not observe it, he knew the sky’s scar still rested. There was no time to waste any longer.
“Bid my warriors to make preparations.” The man’s tone was calm, yet firm.
His subordinate briskly nodded before making his leave. The call for war spread through the bivouac like a wave. Soldiers emerged from their tents in droves, quickly and effectively folding them with practised ease. Torches held in their hands, they marched towards their army’s commander.
From the dark mist leading to the cursed castle, five silhouettes emerged, consisting of their own distinct shapes and sizes. Leading them was a hooded figure, her shaded clothing tightly hugging her form. Even if you attempted to stare at her face, only darkness would greet you back. The man immediately discovered their appearance.
“Aesir.” She spoke a whisper, easily evading one’s attention if they didn’t listen closely enough.
“Kiera.” Though his words were short, his eyes didn’t hide the immense warmth he held towards the people in front of him.
They were his oldest comrades. Nothing more needed to be said.
“Speak, what lies ahead?”
“Chaos’ progeny have withdrawn beyond the wall. We have encountered certain snares upon our path, yet it is certain more await us.”
If you didn’t stare directly at her, then Kiera’s body seemed to vanish into and out of nonexistence. To the common man, her presence would be erased.
He took a moment to contemplate on the message.
“How many shall perish under our charge?”
Her silence was all that he needed.
A well-endowed women stepped up from behind Kiera’s back, her long blonde hair following behind. Her skin was an almost unnoticeable green. With her every step, the ground came to life before slowly withering away again.
“I beseech you to ponder anew the forthcoming course of action.”
“Silence!” He had heard this before and had warned her against it.
“A more virtuous mean surely exists.”
“…”
“If we tarry for but a moment, we-”
“Freya-”
“Perchance, a siege might avail.”
“Do you forget whose men these are?”
“Regardless-”
“Verily, they are my men! I have, with my own eyes, beheld each soul that had entered therein. Do you think that I too do not weep for every drop of blood that is spilt?”
She stepped back, but her distraught expression did not leave.
“I dare not suggest as such.”
Aesir knew that she didn’t back down in fear of his power, indeed she could duel him single-handedly. Rather, the woman had conceded out of her respect for him. At least for now.
“These men did come, fully attired for their demise. Speak no more. Now is not the hour for faltering.” Sighing, he ended the topic there.
‘We have no more time. He draws close, I can feel it.’
“Sire, I hope I do not trouble you. Your loyal men do await your words.”
His second in command back, Aesir gave his parting words.
“Brothers, ‘twas an honour to stand beside you. I pray that you wilt follow me one final time.”
“Did you ever doubt we would?” Laughing exuberantly, a tiger beast man spoke up. His orange fur gleamed despite the overarching night.
For a precious few seconds, the mood lightened.
“We shall be right behind you.” A short stockier figure agreed, rubbing his beard that almost touched the floor.
“Till death do us apart.” The final voice belonged to a tanned female; her spear stood alertly in her hands.
Smiling, Aesir turned around. Unbeknownst to the others, and maybe even himself, a lonely tear escaped his blue eyes, rolled down his face, past his stubble and into the ground.
A raised platform had been readied for him. Standing atop, he faced the countless legions, now neatly lined in rows and columns. Every person there had their ears peeled, for leading them was a living legend. To miss his words was a cardinal sin.
Utilising the power of air magic to amplify his speech, and then space magic to distribute it, no willing person here would be denied the opportunity to attend his words.
“My soldiers.” As he began, silence swept the crowd. Each individual focused their eyesight on him.
“Defenders of the light. Heed my summons. We have suffered greatly… Yet we remain steadfast! Darkness had enshrouded our realm, but we, alongside brave kindred, did vanquish it, step by step. This day, they cower within their last stronghold, but we will drive the vermin forth from their hiding.”
His fingers pointed venomously towards the looming structure. Though hidden to him by the hill, any sapient being could feel its ominous power leaking into the air.
“One by one, we did slay three of chaos’ knights. This time shall be no different. We will revel in their blood just as they have basked in ours!”
Emotions started to bubble through the watching fighters.
“Hearken. We do battle for our brethren who did fall before us! We do fight for our children who shall live after us! Humans, elves, dwarves – ‘tis of no matter your race. This day, we stand united as one!”
A resounding orchestra of cries spread out, its power enough to cause a surge of mana in the area.
“Here, I shall utter naught but the truth. Most among us shall not emerge from this place alive. Those who do will not return the same soul that entered. If such tidings do bring you fright, depart hence at once. I will cast no judgment upon you.”
He stopped to allow the soldiers the chance. Not one did step out of line.
“We will forth go anon.”
With that said, and an ending cheer, the denizens of Lutum went about polishing their armour, sharpening their weapons, and hardening their will. Any and all last-minute preparations were to be done now.
Feeling Aesir’s gaze, his right-hand man approached, cupping his hands around the general’s ear. While it seemed simple, a magic barrier had enveloped the area, protecting it from unwanted listeners.
“Lord Saeksan is ready.”
“Then offer him to unleash his incantation at his leisure.”
“He does inquire if his mark be the same.”
“The eastern gate, that is true.”
After a few more exchanged words, his subordinate left to replay the conversation.
‘Illudo, take your pleasure in these final fleeting moments of your existence.’
***
The atmosphere inside was thick and stagnant, having been untouched for centuries. A chill ran through the halls. The air was heavy with the stench of old blood and decay.
Nearly every room was filled with monsters of the most disgusting form, though nary dared to make a sound. Every nightmare of a person’s most wretched imagination could be found, yet they still cowered in servitude.
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Shadows clung to every surface, twisting and shifting, live with the dark magic that permeated through the solid walls. Every step sent echoes ricocheting through the endless corridors, only to be swallowed immediately by repressive silence. The walls themselves pressed in, watching and waiting.
From deep within the fortress, an ancient power stirred. A person, no, a thing lay sprawled across its throne, a twisted figure barely clinging to life. Its skin was drawn tight over hollowed cheeks, and it had empty sunken eyes. Despite its stature, they still burned with a sickly green light.
Its body was withered, almost skeletal, yet its presence filled the room. It let out a cold, malicious energy. Its fingers, claw-like and pale, rested on the arm of its shattered throne. The seat on which it sat upon was a jagged ruin of dark stone and twisted iron, fractured down the centre. Shards of it were scattered at his feet.
Besides him, two creatures enclaved with metal armour loomed, their suits black as midnight and etched with crimson runes that throbbed like a heartbeat. Their faces were hidden beneath dark helms, eyes glowing faintly red. It would remind any onlooker of fire from the depths of the hell.
They stood eerily motionless, their aura one of callous indifference. Any witness would tremble from the power that radiated from their silent forms, yet the thing on the throne seemed to not notice.
The moving corpse finally decided to open its mouth. Its cold and hollow voice slithered throughout the hallways.
“Fools.” It began.
Its voice was raspy, and each word was dripping with disdain.
“Do you truly believe that this battle holds any meaning? My death…” It let out a low mirthless chuckle. “…is but a fragment of that which I have wrought.”
The figure took a moment to pause, its mouth coughing blood. It oozed out like burnt bark.
“As you stand there - clutching at the last remnants of hope - you are blind to the truth."
Every phrase seemed to draw out a great effort, leaving it gasping for breath. Regardless, it still struggled on, with no one except the pair of creatures below to listen.
"My master’s will has already taken root. Even if I should fall, his chaos shall spread like wildfire across this vile world.” It spat out, each letter laced with poison.
“My final endeavour... is to take you with me.” A distorted laugh bubbled up from its throat, as if it crawled from the abyss itself, growing steadily louder.
It pressed against the minds of all within the bastion. It rolled down the corridors, slipping into every crack and crevice. It made the fortress itself reverberate as if it was taunting its invaders. It was a sound devoid of sanity, speaking of an individual corrupted beyond redemption.
But time was absolute, the laughter fading, leaving only silence again.
***
Staring into an empty site ahead of the army, Aesir waited patiently. He felt the hairs on his arm rise as the air shifted, a subtle shimmer filling the sky before fading into nothingness. The illusion was dispelled; it revealed a circle of mages with an elven elder at its heart. Every person quietened; eyes locked on Lord Saeksan. Despite the gazes, he held a calm focus. The very world was waiting, breathless.
Silver hair flowed around his shoulders, his robe shimmering with arcane symbols. Around him, the circle of mages continued to chant in harmony, their voices weaving together. The elf’s eyes closed. As one, they raised their arms, channelling every ounce of energy into the air above them, their bodies trembling from the strain. One by one, their strength waned, and they fell to the earth, leaving only Saeksan standing—an unbreakable pillar of magical force.
As the final mage fell, Saeksan’s eyes snapped open, glowing with an otherworldly brilliance. Magic crackled in the air, pulling from the very elements around them—wind, fire, earth, and even the shadows themselves. Above, the collected energy condensed into a blinding spear, pure light swirling with runes etched in radiant gold.
The spear grew, stretching toward the heavens, a beacon that lit up the battlefield and cast deep shadows over the fortress. It hummed with barely contained power, arcs of energy crackling along its surface, filling every heart with wonder and dread.
In a world with no star to shine its light, they had created a new one. A murmur of awe rippled through the ranks, and Aesir’s breath caught in his throat. The soldiers surrounding him stared, eyes wide, shields lowered in reverence.
For a momentary period of time, Saeksan stood there, the vortex of power swirling overhead. Then he raised one hand, and with a swift downward motion, unleashed the spear.
With a roar that shook the sky, it was released. The spear shot forward, slicing through the darkened sky like a falling star. It moved with terrifying speed, a streak of blinding light hurtling toward the fortress. Silence fell over the battlefield, every eye fixed on its descent, every heart beating as one with the rhythm of the spell.
From the fortress walls, tendrils of darkness erupted, reaching out like claws to smother the light. They twisted and coiled around the spear, black against white, trying to choke out its brilliance. The tendrils writhed, their edges fraying as the light ate away at them. They clung desperately, only to disintegrate under the sheer purity of the magic Saeksan had unleashed.
The spear struck the barrier, and for a split second, there was nothing but light—a blinding, searing light that swallowed everything in its path. Then came the roar, a thunderous explosion that shook the ground beneath their feet, sending shockwaves across the battlefield. Chunks of stone, shattered by the impact, flew in all directions, and a pillar of smoke and dust rose into the sky.
As the dust began to settle, the remnants of the fortress wall came into view. Cracks spider-webbed across the surface, pieces missing. Any other structure would have been obliterated, erased from existence—but the fortress had only a part of its outer wall removed. A murmur of disbelief rippled through the soldiers. But that was all Aesir was hoping to achieve.
Meanwhile, Saeksan swayed on his feet, his skin pale, shoulders trembling from pain. The light faded from his eyes, replaced by exhaustion as he staggered, yet his gaze remained steely, fixed on the fortress wall, his work not quite done.
“Sire, do you intend to lead the charge yourself?” His lieutenant’s voice was solemn, but it cracked as he struggled to articulate his thoughts.
“Of course, I may be the general of the army, yet I am also of the seven.” Aesir had that intention clear from the start.
"But we require a leader to command the army. Should you perish, it would surely serve as a great boon to the enemy's spirit."
“No, you will lead the army as called upon. Your intellect in the craft of warfare is no less than my own.”
“Grant me leave to join your company.”
"You are denied; you are to stay here to govern the army’s formations."
“But Sire-”
“If my title of commander holds any meaning to you, you will do as I decreed. That is the end of the matter.”
“Understood.”
Though his subordinate stepped away, tears streamed down his face.
Alongside Aesir, his six comrades gathered, even the exhausted Saeksan. He looked over the gathered troops. It made him proud to see the numbers in front of him.
He had been afraid, that with the last battle approaching, certain tribes would begin to recall their fighters. Relaxing before the war was yet won. It would not have been the first time either. But the sapient races had all remained steady, truly understanding the danger that still roamed the plane.
Addressing his men for the final time, Aesir channelled their emotions.
“Today we shall end this. Warriors of Lumen, I beseech you forsooth, one final time.”
The sun decided to finally peak from behind the moon, its first rays touching the ground.
“Give your hearts, so that others may yet continue to beat. Charge!”
Aesir let out a cry and his troops advanced. Their feet pounding the blood-soaked earth, their voices rising in a final battle cry. Like water, they swept either side of the hill. He felt the weight of their trust settle heavily on his shoulders, knowing the price that lay ahead. For their sake, he could not falter. Not now.
After admiring the sight, he followed suit. Though he could fly, he chose to run. Dark beasts poured from the breach, their howls echoing across the battlefield as they prepared to face the tide of metal. A rain of arrows and spells were launched from behind the walls, blotting out the sky. Those his men replied in kind, it was clear who would suffer greater.
Treacherous traps littered the landscape, pit falls, explosives runes and all sorts of devious tricks. The strongest ran in front, owing to their faster speed, hoping to take the brunt of the damage. Though they were using their domains to defuse some of the machinations, it was inevitable for some to escape their notice.
Soldiers fell, one after another, but still, they pushed forward, driven by Aesir’s unyielding will.
“Brothers, slaughter!” He yelled.
They voraciously repeated after him.
“Brothers, butcher!”
“Brothers, devour!”
The bloodlust took on a physical form, enveloping the terrain in a bloody red mist. A wolfman just ahead of him to his left fell back like a rag, a dark spear through his chest. The blood smeared over Aesir’ face, and he quickly wiped it away, unflinching.
Through the smoke and flames, his eyes remained fixed on the terror ahead. His face, grim and fearless, showed no sign of hesitation. As soldiers drowned around him, his pace never slowed. With each step, he came closer to the final battle - closer to Illudo. Closer to the end.