Derrick could see the fort up ahead, it’s structure formed out of massive twisted, thorned bramble. When Derrick and Zak arrive at the opened gate they run in and instantly meet up with a crowd of free-souls.

“He found someone!” One girl yelled

“And he rescued ‘em?!” Another guy shrieked

“Valorin will not be pleased, Scourge” a voice flared up from atop the wall behind Zak.

It was the Barrack’s Disciple, a women, wearing a lightly armored vest, and cloth garbs, sporting a pair of silver gauntlets on each hand, something akin to stylized metal boxing gloves. She was also completely covered in runic tattoos that had been seared into his flesh. The crowd were not surprised by the Disciples retort. They knew the laws strictly forbid anyone from venturing beyond Salvation’s borders, but the fact that he made it back alive and with another soul, seemingly uncorrupted, was utterly ridiculous and un-heard of.

“I do not wish to cause any trouble...” Zak addressed the Disciple and the growing crowd.

“Then why did you defy Valorin’s orders?!” The Disciple interrupted

“Yah!” the crowd enticed, blacklisting Zak instantly. Such was expected when dealing with the mysterious scourge. Their methods taboo, their beliefs, ludicrous. Why would such a being so queer be so far south was beyond anyone’s imagination.

“I take orders from no one. I am my own Master” Zak shot back. He continued without pause

“And right now we have more pressing matters. If you do not drop everything and head for the nearest fort you will all be consumed by the coming tide.”

The Disciple looked unfazed, the crowd, however, was shocked, filled with a cacophony of emotions, confusion, suspicion, anxiety, fright.

“And why should we believe you Scourge?” The disciple queried.

“He’s telling the truth!” Derrick shouted, gaining everyone’s attention at once.

Zak became annoyed, but was curious about Valorin's zealot's, so he let it slide.

“Those… things! There’s hundreds of them, maybe thousands. They chased us for miles. All the way from that insane fucking inferno. We are only alive because Valorin saved us!”

The Disciple was taken aback.

“You saw Valorin? When? Where?!”

Zak stepped forward, interjecting.

“She intercepted the Beelzibub's swarm (Charred being/One) and bequest me to trek here and warn you of the coming invasion.”

Everyone stood in complete silence staring at the two scourge. Derrick knew something bad was coming, but Zak made this sound apocalyptic. Everyone was stunned taking it all in. Zak had no intention of sticking around.

He turned to Derrick.

“We’re leaving.”

Derrick suddenly realized that Zak cared nothing for these souls. He was only here out of respect for Valorin, and he had done what was asked of him.

“What? We can’t just leave them here!” Derrick argued

“There’s no time! We are not dying here! What they do is up to them.” Zak snarled intimidating Derrick, brushing him off and walking away. Derrick then realized the cruelty of hell was ever reaching, there was always a twist, a sacrifice to be made. He knew if he didn’t go with Zak and stayed that he and everyone would all die.

“Zak!” he cried.

Zak did not stop his steady pace to exit. Derrick turned and addressed the crowd.

“Your prophet is in there right now!” He roared

Zak stopped to watch Derrick plead.

“She’s fighting to save your asses while you stand here gawking like damn idiots!” Derrick spat with venom at everyone, but Zak.

Zak uses this opportunity to see is way out. Blink and you missed it.

With great haste the followers stand at attention, awaiting instructions from their Leader, A Disciple of Valorin.

The disciple didn’t blink. She turned back to Derrick.

“Give me one reason why I should believe you Scourge.”

“Please don’t do this! You’ll never survive! Derrick pleads with them.

"I… I don’t know! You must believe me! I Saw her, she told us to warn you!”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Then suddenly, a word shot across Derrick’s mind. Faith. The word repeated over and over and grew louder, as if a stadium of people were chanting. Faith. Faith. Faith. Faith. Faith.

The Disciple turned away unconvinced.

“If you won’t believe me, than at least just have Faith!” Derrick cried out

Disciple: (Pondering)

Those words hit the disciple like a truck.

Disciple: (Empowered)

“Our Faith in Valorin!” The Disciple shouted.

Filled with zealous resolve, every single soul within the Barracks flew into formation and immediately responded in kind.

“Our faith in Valorin!” Crying out together as one voice.

“Fury of the Flame!” The Disciple Cried back with all his might. She finishes by shooting her buckler sized gauntlet’s into the air and blasting off a cacophony of flames. They are soft reds, with orange and yellow hues. A hint of blue.

“Our Faith in Valorin!” The soldiers screamed in chorus, facelessly, throwing their fists into the air.

This was Valorin's rally cry, her most precious instrument of war against the Arch-Demon Lord, Beelzibub.

Disciple (Commanding) “Armaments!”

The entire legionaries assembly went into fight mode. The Disciple grinned at Derrick for a second, she was impressed, yet suspicious of Zak.

The disciple jump down into the dome and dashed to the forge at the center of the Fort. The forges were in an elaborate, yet harmonious configuration of solid carved stone. The Disciple reached the center of the forge which was occupied by a wide, shallow dias with runic symbols around its perimeter and also at its center. Her second-in-command appeared instantly by her side.

“You’re not serious!?” Zak howled

“Are you questioning my Faith Scourge!?” The Disciple cracked back.

Zak paused and started watching the followers dash and dart all around the fort. Literally everyone was gearing up to fight, full force, regardless that oblivion is at their gate.

The disciple wasted no time with Zak's demeanor.

She turns to her kin.

Disciple: “It is time Damial. I must say I thought this would never come to pass.”

Damial nodded in agreement

Disciple: “Take the lead, I won’t be far behind you.”

Damial: “, how do you know it’ll work?” Damiel asked anxiously

Disciple: “I don’t”

The disciple stood up tall and strong and looked up at Zak. Damial flew back outside the forge and got everyone into position.

“Scourge Master!” She taunted.

Zak turned an eye

“Hmm?”

Zak was, what looked like, stealing a couple dozen items from the armory, including, but not limited to, body armor, trinkets, and a couple dozen swords. Lots of short swords, and sheath-belts.

“A gift I am sure?” She rolled her sarcastically.

The Disciple pounded her gauntlets together and every white glowing torch across the fortress snuffed out and flew toward the forge using some sort of piping. By this time the followers had collected a lot of weapons, though they didn’t have any armor on. Derrick notices that no on is lining up on top of the wall, and that they are also ignoring the cannons

Zak has never seen anything like it before. A now much bluer flame erupts in a mighty roar around the center of the forge, in a marvellous display of flair-fire, swiftly then into a large raging inferno, though somehow, a flawless blend of white and blue. It was warm, even inviting to some.

“Know this!”

The Disciples voice boomed out from inside the Inferno. Then the Disciples gauntlets consumed all of it in a flash. The gauntlets burst into flames, this time completely blue. The ground below her begins to sink, a mechanism contraption of sorts, it seems the forge was designed to do this. With elegant body language she addresses Zak confidently. All the while the forge is descending, and twisting, surrounding her like a dome, slowly. This whole ordeal distracted a few soldiers as they gather on the northwestern side of the barracks.

“Forevermore you shall not address me as your equal.”

Derrick is mesmerized. She is empowering and unphased.

“For I have yet to see your merit” She sasses.

“However, you are about to experience mine!” She boasts with glee, her giant blue fist ablaze, roaring with excitement.

She is still descending into the ground. From where Zak and she are positioned, Zak wont be able to see her very shortly, cut off by the dropped-forges edge and the reshaping forge around her.

“For I say, you will bow to me! Before this afterlife is done.”

She vanishes below the ground, with half the forge accompanying her.

“I suppose not.” He grumbles to the disciple.

Zak is now standing on the southern wall of the Barracks dome, surrounded with gear. How even? He can finally hear the locusts. They will be here soon.

Below the barracks the Disciple pauses briefly, as the forge completes its transformation around her. She is nervous, but confident.

“Fury of the flame!” The disciple lets out on last ferocious chant.

Though muffled by the newly formed forge entombing her, every free-soul still heard it.

“Our faith in Valorin!” They cried out together.

“Fury of the flame!” Damiel roared

“Our faith in Valorin!” They cried out again.

Then, a dead silence covers the dome, and they heard it. They are coming. Though still far away, they were coming. Those bastards had told the truth after all.

“Let’s move!” Damial ordered.

The back of the dome miraculously opens itself allowing them through, as if by its own will. As if the dome was alive. The Disciple could feel it through the ground. She didn’t know how though, but she knew. Maybe it was the star-fire, she looked her gauntlets up an down, their penetrating blue star-flames were wonderous beyond words. tears fell down her face. She wished she could stay in this moment for the rest of eternity. She was so happy, something she had not really felt since she fell unto hell.

She had never really done this before though, at least not gone this far. She had only ever practiced it, an untold amount of times. The dome told her about it when she was appointed Commanding Disciple of Barracks Defiance by Valorin. The dome warned her that this was a one time deal, and so it was reserved for the most dire of situations. Dancing and chanting, she would soar around the dome, tenacious in her focus and discipline, she had to be perfect.

As the followers ran to Castle Pyre, they all felt a hint of that blue warmth, that inferno of joy she must be feeling. Every know knew what she was doing, what it looked like, and how she moved. It was also something they would never forget.

She strikes a pose and enters a sort of ritualistic trance. Chanting, and moving ever gracefully, twirling, twisting, swaying, all of it flowing together like a choreographed dance piece. The blue flames of the gauntlets scorching opulent patterns all around her. They persist and burn away against the inside walls of the tomb, and it begins to glow.