The last specks of colour trickled out through the narrow gap in the Sealing Wall. They approached the edge haggardly in imperfect formations, some cohorts smaller than others, more civilian than soldier. The Imysion gathered to the forest’s edge where they received aid from the soldiers of the 12th Cohort. Duxus Aquilina made note of each cohort that returned and those that did not. Several of the original Duxii were among the missing.
The Magister Bellaxus was not amongst them. Nor was Duxus Gallus. The remaining Duxii had filled her in about the small division from the 13th. Any sane human would have taken their chances and left whilst they still could, but Gallus had joined the other half of the legion to the Scholar’s District. And because of that many more from that accursed ‘Daimon Spine’ were saved.
‘The stubborn fool…’
He may have been right. Perhaps this time would be different from the last. But, she had seen the Princidaimon through the other Duxii’s experiences. How it felled everyone with one spell. How it flew above the city in all its terror. Though its wings were imperfect, she couldn’t help but wonder if it had every opportunity to escape and spread its corruption before they had come. If it were so, then why hadn’t it? Would the wall even contain such a thing? They had sealed off lesser cities to seal away Caputidaimons in time for a Cleanse, but never had they had to do the same for a Princidaimon. She recalled from rare reports that Princidaimons only lasted in Tirra for a few Chronocycles, but the memories of the survivors formed a different picture.
She kept those questions tucked to the back of her mind as she turned to more pressing matters - the High Magisters were better suited to ponder those questions than a mere Duxus, she thought.
Aquilina and the other Duxii gathered in Roya. The meeting was hosted in her mind - a space of dark marble dimly lit by wards. At its centre was a domed war table and upon it, the shadows of human, beast and Daimon moved across. The point of discussion: to extend their wait, or leave whilst they still had time.
“One Chronocycle isn’t enough time, Aquilina,” said Duxus Lucilla, “We must extend it.”
“And endanger Ludceta? I’ve extended my hand enough, any longer than that is pushing it.”
“I concur,” said Duxus Clamatorus, “We can’t afford to let that thing run rampant through our lands.”
Duxus Tetraxus snapped, “How could you say that? Gallus came back for us, and you want to abandon him and the others?”
“Gallus agreed to those terms,” Aquilina argued. “I would rather risk the lives of a few soldiers for the entirety of our country.”
“A few soldiers? Half a legion is still in there! That’s not even accounting for the countless others that could be saved.”
“That’s the sacrifice we must be willing to make.”
Tetraxus glared at her, “It must be so easy for you to say that, for someone that sits behind the lines.”
He made no attempt at resisting his emotions. Instead, he let his thoughts gather in the room like thunderous clouds. And yet, Aquilina remained as hard as jade.
“You’ve only been a Duxus for a few Chronocycles, Tetraxus. Don’t pretend you know what it means to make hard decisions.”
“I hardly need any experience to know a coward when I see one.”
“Enough,” A new voice emerged, cutting through the noise. “I know you’re all afraid, but don’t lose sense.”
All noticed a new presence entering. Its thought form may have taken a human shape, but it was unmistakably inhuman. Not a Daimon, but a beast of Magus.
Aquilina looked sharply at the newcomer, “Who gave you the authority to enter this place, Monoceros?”
“Tribunus Virgilius Pavonikos,” Cyrene answered.
It was rare but not unheard of that a beast belonging to a Magister would speak in their place. Rarer so that a mere mount belonging to a High Magister’s child would be trusted to discuss important matters. By extension, that made their word as equally important as any Magister’s. Sensing their skepticism, Cyrene presented them with the spell-mark: encircled within the official symbol of the Magisterium was the Delegate’s Decree, and signed within was the renowned insignia of the star-eyed peacock.
“You can’t be serious,” Tetraxus scoffed.
“These are uncommon times,” Lucilla said. That much was true, with Maleficari fighting by their side and all. “If the Tribunus permitted it, then we should hear what she has to say.”
“Very well,” Aquilina said, “Speak then. What would you have us do?”
“My decision alone won’t be enough to settle this matter. I believe we should call a vote. The rest of the Imysion should have a say in this.”
All were in silent agreement. Aquilina begrudgingly nodded with the others. She had a strong feeling that the outcome would not turn in her favour but the Monoceros spoke sense.
“Then it shall be done.”
All in the room relayed what was spoken about throughout the edge of the forest. Soldier and civilian brought together their solutions and cast their votes. The options narrowed as the process continued. What felt like Chonocycles in Roya happened in mere Midis. The last bout of votes determined their final decision.
“Then it’s decided,” Duxus Aquilina finally said, “We shall wait 1 Chronocycle. No more. No less.”
Many quietly thought that it was barely enough time, but after that session of voting and with all that they had seen, they couldn’t disagree with the decision.
“But,” she added, “Should we see any sight of Daimons, we shall seal the wall immediately. Is that clear?”
All agreed. With that, everyone began to make their preparations. The 12th remained at their posts close to each of the wall’s anchors. The rest could only wait anxiously.
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Gallus checked his Chronograph. 1 Chronocycle and 20 Midis left - yet his thoughts went back to the 12th. The other half of the Imysion had ample time to rejoin the survivors, but would there be enough time for themselves? The others were convinced so, but no one in the Imysion knew Aquilina enough as he did.
‘Eyes straight, Gallus. We’ve already come this far.’
He repeated those words over and over. The next rooms the group visited drained some of their hopes. As they ascended the spine, the pods took on stranger shapes - some recognisably Tirran in anatomy, others resembled organs never before seen. They recovered more samples of flesh than survivors. Those they did save didn’t wake, their minds were too broken to recover anymore useful information. They would have to be taken to Lumis to heal them, but some of them had wounds that couldn’t be repaired.
There were those with damaged eyes and those missing their eyes - no replacement would give them back the knowledge and lifespan that was stolen from them. What horrified the Imysion the most was pulling out bodies missing the top half of their heads, yet still with a beat in their chest. Some faint part of their minds remained, struggling even to sustain basic bodily processes. Pavonikos had dismounted from Nethuns, holding one in their arms, doing what they could to mend what they could. The three Duxii gathered around them.
“We can’t leave them here like this.”
“Tribunus, there’s nothing we can do for them,” said Lophura.
“A quick death is the best thing for them,” Enicurus added.
“Quiet,” Gallus said, “Tribunus, what are your orders?”
Pavonikos paused, drawing a long breath.
“Enicurus, have your healers carry all of the wounded. Her included. Nethuns, help gather the wounded.”
As Pavonikos placed a shield on the wounded Magister and stowed her atop Nethuns’ back. Enicurus knew that the Tribunus’ orders were absolute yet he couldn’t accept it. Perturbed, he shut his eyes.
“Tribunus, why must my men and women carry the wounded? Surely the 13th are better qualified-“
“I need the 13th at the front as our eyes,” Pavonikos answered, “I don’t mean any offence. I chose the 2nd to remain at the back because I can trust you and your cohort to save the wounded. I need you to trust me, Duxus Enicurus.”
The Duxus stifled his frustrations. When he opened his eyes, Pavonikos met his gaze, expecting an answer.
Enicurus lowered his eyes and bowed, “It shall be done, Tribunus.”
They continued their rescue efforts, however fruitless it seemed to most. In fact some felt as though it would be more merciful to send the remains straight to Paradis. As Pavonikos saw it, that was not their decision to make.
Meanwhile, the 13th stood watch over their compatriots. Adonis was on watch duty once again, his friends never far from view as they dug through flesh. Even with the spells suppressing their emotions, he could feel the strain this was having on both Rufinus and Valerian, but if he moved from this spot he would be caught by Gallus again.
Strangely, their ascent so far had been quiet. Too quiet. Like some of the others, Adonis’ mind whispered to him of a theoretical trap lying in wait for them all. Even there was some truth to those whisperings, it was difficult not to want to keep ascending upwards. The impulse to save others was enough reason for most here to continue, but for some, it was morbid curiosity.
He briefly glanced at Saoirse beside him. It wasn’t lost on him that she had stopped bothering him a few rooms ago. She seemed more vigilant than before too, taking extra care to scan through the room and move from post to post as discretely as possible. She wasn’t here to pester him, that much he gathered.
“Ogling me again? Dathúil, I’m flattered, but shouldn’t you be looking out for Daimons?”
“You shouldn’t be here. Go back to your post.”
“Or what? You’ll tell the cock? You’re not that cruel.”
He answered her with silence. From his peripherals, he watched her search around for a few Midis more.
“Why are you still here?” he finally asked.
“I could very well ask you the same thing, Frawdairch. Why, indeed? I’m sure you’re clever enough to escape this place with your friends if you wanted to.”
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“Desertion is a serious crime.”
“So? It’s not like that would stop you,” laughter echoed around his mind. “You’re itching to see what’s up there too, I know it. If we work together, we can slip away unnoticed.”
He went quiet again, exchanging a warning look.
Her laughter stopped, “Be honest with yourself, Tyto. We both know you can’t get what you want if you hold back-“
Adonis’ eyes opened. He saw alertness pass over Saoirse’s own. Her eyes darted upward. Thinking it was Daimons, he readied a glaive. Before he could pass the message on to those closest to him, his mental voice was drowned out.
A noiseless scream filled the building, stopping the Imysion in their tracks. The world around them reverberated, leaving all pinned to the ground. Adonis struggled to hold up his head against the pain. Like a fierce torrent, strong hatred cascaded against the walls of his mind, drawing out pure primal fear. All sense told him to protect himself but he willed himself to fight his instinct. Taking his chances, he dispelled the cracked Soothing Spells, letting the wave flood in.
Enveloped. Submerged. The sensation left nothing else. Essence, naked. Head, raw and ready to split. In those few Midicycles, Adonis wandered through the squall. In it, he glimpsed a path leading towards hazy door. Each step through this path intensified his pain. With pain, came understanding - memories of Daimonic script flashed in his mind and sharpened in clarity. Before he could take another step, the pain began to subside.
He found himself in the room once more. Valerian and Rufinus were crouched close to him. His partner, however, was missing.
“Where is she?”
“Who, Ado?”
“Saoirse. She was here.”
Rufinus and Valerian looked around in search of the elusive woman. When they first recovered, they hadn’t seen a trace of her.
“We didn’t see her.”
Adonis rubbed at his eyes and when his senses were restored, he felt something brush against his neck. He picked the object that had been stuck to his cloak - it was a small feather, white at its bone and brown at its tip. It brought to mind the colour of Saoirse’s hair.
“I-is everyone alright?”
“My eyes still ache, but I’m fine, Val,” Rufinus answered.
“I’ll live.”
“Stop it, Ado. C-come here.”
Valerian quickly went to work to restoring the mental shielding of those around him. The ghost of pain and terror faded and with it, the path to that strange door in the darkness that Adonis had glimpsed.
And yet, there was this unsettling feeling that hung in this room.
Suddenly, an image was projected into Adonis’ head. He saw the room from above; he and his friends directly underneath. The fleshy mass behind the other two pulsed unusually. A terrible urgency filled his being.
Adonis grabbed at his friends, pulling them away from the nearest wall of flesh. Bursting out from the greyish blue mass were split arms with elongated digits. They whipped around, grasping wildly. A shadow emerged from within the pod, pushing itself forward. Adonis drove his glaive into the pod. Another screech ran through his arm - the image of that elusive door flashed in his mind. He held fast, the voids of his eyes illuminated with the harsh blue of a spell. In a flash, spikes of frost filled the inside of the
“Get away from the pods!” Rufinus screamed into Roya for all to hear.
Many scrambled away from the flesh walls. The warning came too late for some. Others were unlucky enough to be surrounded by narrow passages. Daimon-puppeted limbs pulled them from all sides until their bodies gave way with a sickening rip.
“Outside! Quickly!” yelled Gallus.
The three friends ran for the exits, dodging, freezing and burning through possessed. Several, half-bodied figures rose up to block their path, their misplaced eyes shot spells of light at the escaping soldiers. One cut through Valerian’s shield and he let out a cry of pain as it struck him on the shoulder.
Rage flared up in Rufinus. In mere seconds, the wall of possessed went up in flames. The screams that came after froze him place long after they were turned to ash.
Valerian pulled him back to his senses, “Rufus, we have to go!”
Adonis shoved them both downward, shielding their eyes from a blinding flash of light. He returned fire with a cold glaive, pulled his friends upright, and all three continued their escape.
Rufinus caught sight of the Tribunus; Pavonikos cut and burned through flesh to save those they could. As the walls closed in, the Tribunus shoved the last of the soldiers out of chaos. Pavonikos fought their hardest to slash away the tendrils that wrapped around their body, but one had taken them by their blindspot. They were dragged closer and closer into one of the pods, their forearm fully submerged. They attempted to cleave off the arm but another limb from the opposite wall wrapped over their eyes. They could feel the strain on their neck and arm. They cried out as the blindfold tightened around their skull.
Nethuns charged in, driving his horn into the freshly formed wall, blowing open a gaping wound. The hole was too small for the Monoceros to get in. At best they could only hold it open with their shielding.
Rufinus broke away from the others, rushing forward and vaulting over Daimon flesh. Through that hole, he could see the Tribunus suspended in place, body close to being torn apart. Wild flames lept from his eyes and sprinted towards their mark. The first caught the edge of the wound left by Nethuns. The Monoceros held his nerve, watching the fire savage the flesh. The Vattirmanni followed, leaping through the smoldering wound.
The other flame then pounced up. Orange jaws engulfed the tendril, greedily rending muscle and sinew to soot and gold steam. Right before the flames touched the Tribunus’ head, Rufinus’ Brightsilver blade tore through the blindfold.
Through bleary eyes, the Tribunus saw the red-haired Vattirmanni digging his blade at the flesh that held their arm in place. Over his shoulder, Nethuns was struggling to hold their exit open. At this rate, their efforts would be wasted.
“My arm,” Pavonikos croaked, “Cut it off.”
Rufinus hesitated. A bit of his frustration bled out into him. He channeled his fire into the blade. In one clean strike, Pavonikos was freed of their arm. He slung the Tribunus over his back effortlessly and quickly rushed towards the exit. Grasping things and something worse emerged, following after them.
“Get out of there!” Nethuns urged the two as he struggled to keep the wound in the mass open.
Ice and hot earth quickly formed at the rim, frostbite eating away at regenerating flesh, the rim was quickly replaced with petrified skin. It gave Pavonikos’ rescuers a chance to break free. As they made their escape, one of those mangled things covered in spell-readied eyes broke out of the grey matter and shambled behind them. The Daimon poised to attack.
Narrowly missing Rufinus’ head, a bolt of light and several elemental projectiles shot past him, striking the possessed down. A distance ahead of them, he saw his Duxus and a small group from his cohort. They fought back against the surroundings, keeping a clear path to escape.
“Get the Tribunus on my back.”
Rufinus quickly obeyed the Monoceros. Once Pavonikos was securely stowed, Nethuns galloped through the path at breakneck speed. With the Tribunus safe and Rufinus rejoined, Gallus finally gave his order.
“Fall back!”
The group retreated into the exits, passing through a golden shield constructed by Lophura’s cohort. With the last of the soldiers and survivors out, all readied their spells.
On the other side of the shield, what remnants were left of the possessed stared the soldiers back pitifully. Some begged to be let out. To be saved. It was difficult to ascertain if this was Daimonic trickery or the last remnants of Tirran resistance. Mercifully, the Soothers hardened everyone’s hearts. The Duxii gave their order.
“Sponte Iacite!”
And they gave it their all, even after no signs of life remained.
At the back of the lines, Healers quickly gathered around Nethuns and took Pavonikos down to mend their wounds. Their eyelids opened - sight immediately went from bleary to clear. By the Healer’s assessment, their eyes were undamaged. Looking upward, they noticed something emerge from top of the spine and disappear out of oculus of the dome roof. In the shadow of those wings, Their eyes widened with horrifying realisation.
Pavonikos shot up from the ground and shut their eyes.
“Retreat! The Princidaimon is here!”
The soldiers stopped, their focus turning upward. They moved inward, away from the edges of the spine into straight lines. The 13th and the 10th assembled at the front and were situated at the uppermost part of the spiralling walkway. Leading from the back was the 2nd. Pavonikos’ small group was at the centre.
All were cloaked in a variety of different shields. The Golden Dome had proved useless back in the Crafts District. Before ascending to the uppermost portion of the spine, groups within each cohort had come together to design new shields in case they encountered the Princidaimon.
The line marched hastily downwards, right until that shadow was cast again. Another wave of terror filled the building. The 13th and the 10th saw the Princidaimon descend and rest at one side of the wall. Its veins pulsed fresh with gold. Its cloak and hat-like head renewed. Many of its eyes, however, were closed as if asleep. The few that were open stared down, wide and unknowable
“Brace yourselves!”
The Imysion stopped their march and got into their positions. Staring up at the Daimon directly, Adonis felt that pain ravage him again. Surrounding him, the other Draekslanni were faring the same, but he refused to tear his eyes away from it. He felt so close to reaching that door. What it exactly was, he could not say, but he was enraptured by the need to find out no matter what. Something inside him began to open.
The Princidaimon opened up its wings. Several faces were revealed to all, only part absorbed, as if hastily combined. Only one of those faces stood out to the entire Imysion. The Duxii looked up with horror clashing against their mental shields. Their Tribunus could feel despair trickling through the cracks of their own.
“No…”
Magister Bellaxus Laevinus’ eyes opened from within the Prinicidaimon. His expression was listless, enraptured between dreams and the waking world. For a moment, he locked eyes with Pavonikos. Was it recognition? Or coincidence? Regardless, the Princidaimon did not move for a few moments more. The Tribunus hoped it was the former.
The recognisable symbol of his signature spell lighted Laevinus’ eyes and those hopes were dashed.
“Shield your eyes!”
The first explosion of light cascaded upon the soldiers. Not a trace was left of the few that had not shut their eyes in time. Before the Imysion could recover, the next set of eyes unleashed their spells, keeping them all pinned down in defensive positions until finally they were set upon by the Mind Trap. Many of the remaining soldiers’ shields gave out before they collapsed into accursed slumber.
The few groups that remained raised their heads - their shields had withstood the attack. The Princidaimon closed up its wings and twitched violently, digging tendrils deep into the wall of the spine. Whatever the reason for this, all saw an opportunity. Some began firing spells at the Prinicidaimon, but nothing could crack its shields. Amidst those that remained awake was Gallus.
“Stop wasting time and wake the others!” he commanded in Roya.
As quickly as they could, the remaining groups woke as many as they could. When Pavonikos rose from the Mind Trap, they saw that the Princidaimon was stirring again. Many had woken up but there some that were still in the throes of the Daimon’s spell.
“2nd Cohort, carry the rest! We must leave at once!”
They did as commanded, the 13th and 10th covering the rest. As they descended down, the Prinicidaimon swooped down to follow them. Its movements were as clumsy as its control over its own spells, but powerful nonetheless. Using the shields that had defended the first groups against the Mind Trap, they were able to avoid being trapped in sleep again. As long as they kept moving, they had a better chance of survival.
Yet, Pavonikos noticed the men and women that fell behind - some were rendered into golden vapour, others were quickly absorbed by the Prinicidaimon.
As they continued their descent, the Princidaimon finally made one last move of desperation. It launched itself off the spine and dove down, before rising up and planting itself ahead of the 2nd Cohort, blocking their escape.
“Halt!”
The Imysion stopped in their tracks. Before rushing to reassemble themselves, the Princidaimon let out another onslaught of attacks upon them. Though they could resist the Focus-draining Mind Trap, they were beginning to run out of Focus Potion once again. They couldn’t maintain their shields forever.
“Tribunus, what should we do?!”
Pavonikos held fast, lending their own Focus to the shield. They were all being moved up the spine once again. The Princidaimon’s rimmed head undulated, and with each wave came thoughts of what it intended to do to them. Images of being sealed into those pods to make up for the damage done to the spine shifted into images of a Ludceta warped into its idea of Paradis. The Soothers didn’t know if they could keep the fear at bay any longer. It was difficult enough keeping their own selves sane.
“Lophura and I are ready,” Gallus said into their mind. “Give us the order!”
“Tribunus, this is the only way.”
Pavonikos gritted their teeth. That’s when they noticed several of the 13th extending the walkway with stone to prevent themselves from falling off the edge. Surely, they could build their own path out of this. Or better yet… A floating platform, like those that were used before the Teleostium were invented for instant travel.
But how would they distract the Princidaimon to protect themselves?
Pavonikos looked past the wings that wrapped around the floating faces in its body. Nethuns, seemed to sense the idea that passed their mind.
“Tribunus,” he said, “If you think its right, then give the command. I will ride.”
Pavonikos took a breath and closed their eyes.
“Duxus Enicurus. Begin constructing a floating platform at the edge after the next wave. Ensure that it’s large enough for us to all escape. Duxii Gallus, Lophura. Hold fast until my signal.”
And all obeyed.
After defending against the next wave of attacks from the Princidaimon, the 2nd focused all their efforts on the floating platform. It had been made hastily, but it was large to hold the entire Imysion. On Pavonikos’ signal, the 1oth, 13th and Pavonikos’ soldiers quickly began assembling on the platform.
“Tribunus, hurry!” Gallus called out.
Pavonikos and Nethuns remained facing the Princidaimon. They could both sense the last of the 13th embark on the platform. At the same time, the Princidaimon was stirring again.
“Duxii, it has been a pleasure fighting alongside you. Now go.”
Pavonikos looked over their shoulder. At once, the platform began to move down. They blocked out their cries and braced theirselves for what came next. The Princidaimon unfurled itself, exposing its faces once more.
“Magister Bellaxus Laevinus! Look upon me!”
Laevinus opened his eyes, dazed as if waking from a long dream. He saw Flavius’ little pride and joy before him. If he could reverse the passing of change, he would have been there for them when they needed him most.
The Princidaimon lunged forward with outstretched wings. Joy turned to horror. The Princidaimon reveled as Laevinus’ nightmare came to being.