Piercing through his blade, the war of pure Iuboron matter remained unblemished while the revenant of a faun whose goat-like face was half decayed to the skull crumbled akin to a puppet whose strings had been severed. Eadwald panted sporadically as he felt his muscles burning with the pain that took over the place of the tinging phrenzy beget of the spells enchanting his limbs.

He gritted his teeth and once more swung beyond the threshold of the ward protecting them from the swarming dead in the chamber beneath the earth at the same time Azugh swung his mace crushing an aevhen revenants head to pungent bits of sallow flesh and withered bone. His own blade struck into the shoulder of a revenant beyond recognition with gaunt, monstrous visage emanating the blackish purple nekrotic matter tainting their souls.

The blade halted midway through the lithe torso with exposed ribcages, devoid of a belly or hanging intestines of malodorous scent, only twisting dark mist descended then curled towards the ceiling. For a moment, fear struck Eadwald’s heart and in a panic stated began to fidget the blade to pull it out as the cold, dry hands of the dead latched onto it and began to pull him out.

Salvation came in the form of a long spear, a spear coated in gold tainted by ichor flowing, dripping from the revenant before him whose chest lacking or not of heart got pierced through. Iuboron engulfed its body like flames and within seconds its distorted, sepulchral screams faded into nothingness and marred themselves into Eadwald’s memory as he stumbled back at the sudden release of his blade.

As he slowly arose, Eadwald felt a numbness of dread creep through his body and the dim scenery of the chamber shifted of the familiar vista of the Vesgeriath Woodland not far from Vonschneithar. Surrounding him were the small, vacant forms of his old friends laying face down in the snow, their bloody forming one singular pond in the center before his kneeling silhouette.

Above the dark pond, reflected in its lucent dusky surface was the pale figure of feminine curvatures wrapped in tattered, regal attires of jet blackness woven from the night sky itself, accompanied by the chill of finality carrying the souls to the Gray City of Asphodai and the hatred of the searing Phlageitonic sub-realms of Taerebus where souls maddened by rage lingered in eternal slavery.

He felt her approaching, now ever stronger than in the corridor, then in the past when he slipped into the woodland against the wishes and orders of Ulrich and Mirdbruil. His body shook from the terror he thought to be free from since he matured into a man. Then came the abrupt, forceful slap and the reassuring words which thawed away the binding ice of terror, and helped him onto his feet leading him to the fray once more, dwindling the numbers of the seemingly endless revenants battering against Priernuss’s ward.

As they all moved in flawless accord, Priernuss’s ward crumbled into motes of aethereal dust, the dozen or more revenants throwing their ghastly forms against fell over, allowing each and every one of them to be swiftly cut down by Eadwald and the others. Hope never tasted better as their triumph seemed ever more plausibly. Still he remained clear-headed even whilst the pain of over relying on the Acheryoth spread like wildfire, resulting in an excruciating pain akin to bones shattering, the shards severing his sinew from within.

Amidst the screams of the revenants, he heard Aelfsigior yell his name, pointing at the dead leaping from his right. Eadwald swung upwards, and the blade sliced it in two from nether to head, both sides landed beyond them with a sodden thud.

At last, came the overpowering shout of Hevaeck from behind paired with the lightening howl of the Greigor Gate opening up bathing the room in a mix of light azure and foamy white while its surface within the two wide columns reminded Eadwald of the untainted waters flowing in rivers south of their settlement. First, he felt hesitant when Ulrich ordered him to run through it, but in the end, he obeyed and leapt through after Hevaeck.

In the created space connecting the Greigor Gate of the desolate monastery and Vhoragos, Eadwald found himself floating in a translucent whirlpool of whiteness. Above him the endless blackness spread across an eternity, occasional pulsing of crimson, purple and many other different hues and shades like veins popping into existence.

And betwixt them, clearly visible even with their equally dark scales flew the mighty beasts whom filled his heart with utter terror as they sore, swam across the sea of darkness waiting to leak the darkness into reality as the hour of day neared its end. Beasts whom appeared on the walls of his home, on the painting of his and his siblings’ masterfully created by Priernuss himself years before.

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Though more than them, other horrific beings clawed at the threshold between reality and hollowness between planes, whilst the tamer swam with the dragons of dusk, including a kindred of theirs lacking limbs but making up in size as it slithered and swallowed spheres the size of snowflake to him, the size of the titan for young Eadwald who turned his attention away from the strange beings, turning to the bright world opposite.

Below him, the heart shaped continent of Vhalleryon stretched far across, its appendage like earthly extensions flailing in perfect stillness towards all foci of the compass. Directly beneath the Vesgeriath Woodland swelled across the whiteness of the north beneath Dhaugruz like a dim blister and he watched with wondrous eyes as sphinxes of Septurrion, dragons of the House of Heavens and Dawn ruled the skies further south, a vast worm shaped blackness moving slowly beneath the waters, the much feared Charybdis he heard of from the tales told by Ulrich.

Between his feet, the Illius shone brightly keeping the darkness above at bay, its light easing the Rage of Acheryoth which tortured his body and soul moments ago in punishment of over reliance on its strange, aethereal waters. The more he stared at the spherical celestial body of condensed and perfectly meshed together arkhaine energies, the more he was filled with a child like joy on top of his wonder and desire to relay this experience not just to the others, but to his mother, to his siblings, the residents of Vonschneithar and then others whom he shall meet one day.

He slowly rotated around while pulled by invisible feelers across the maghieth whirlpool created by the Greigor Gate, and looked at the destination close to where the whiteness of the north came to an end, and the cavalcade of warm shades began, though for a moment his eyes wandered onto the spire emerging from the heart of Vhalleryon, the famed city Pyrgos.

It is said to be the home of the Lustrous Wing of the Draennith Praetoriir, the branch who befriended, tamed the magnificent dragons of House they named themselves after. Dragons whose scales said to be possess a sheen as refined as mirrors, and if one stares long into them can see the reflection of their next lives after they begin anew journey in the mortal planes.

Eadwald continued his search for where the whirlpool dragged him towards, and amidst the strange descent towards the ground, he noticed amongst the deep veins of the earth, a dim octagonal outline of the city of Vhoragos. The colonial capital of the north was established first as fortress for the 19th Legion led by Terrianis’s 177th son born from his 45th wife, sent here to intercept the slave hordes rising up.

Though the fortress itself rose much quicker than they anticipated the slaves reaching the northern wastes, and after the failed attempt to halt their march, two more layers were erected. First the innermost district serving as home to Terrianis’s son who was punished to be the Consuliar of the North until the day comes to defeat the Host. Then came the third layer of the city, the residential and market district where the families of the stationed legionariir migrated after accepting their loved ones won’t return from the north in their lifetimes.

A slight huff escaped him as cold and heavy air breezed through his bristly face. An uncanny descent began as Eadwald sensed the rousing dread of falling and the octagonal city neared with each passing moment. He tensed his limbs in preparation for the landing and at once the diverging vistas below and above shifted into a featureless shadowscape with white light at the far end in the vague silhouette of an arch.

At last, he let out a disconsolate sigh knowing the thrilling journey which felt only momentary came to a halt. His body passed through the light and at once he found himself in the center of a vast chamber of gloomy, wet stone welted together with the dwarves cement, though most of it was blocked by the legionariir of heterogenous kindred clad in the same ivory plates as Eadwald.

“Come. Give some space to the others.” Hevaeck grabbed onto his arm and pulled him further in the center where the legionariir gave way. Though it took him a bit of effort as Eadwald worry filled golden eyes stared at the condensed pond of aethereal energies settled in the thick confines of the Greigor Gate bearing the sightless visage of Septurrion.

First, Azugh and Ashnan stepped forth battered and wheezing, with their armor dented, missing pieces, their bodies scarred mildly with parts already in the process of necrosis. Healers draped in azure robes hurried to the two and carried them away while already battling against the viciously devouring nekrotic matter.

“I won’t leave until father steps through.” Eadwald yelled at the soldiers trying to take him away to check his wounds, his vitae as he reeked from the taint of the woodland like the others. He kept looking, waiting though the two after him were followed by Gna who stumbled and collapsed not far from the gate, his greenish blood streaming from his ears and eyes.

“Father!” Then after Priernuss and Aelfsigior stepped through, he yelled as the gate connecting to the monastery collapsed into itself just as the two in the same state collapsed besides Gna. “Open it up!” He yelled and yelled while breaking through the legionariir who held him in place, than at once, he fell unconscious as Hevaeck with a solemn expression touched the back of his head.