The elven summoner could practically taste success as the ritual approached its climax. All dead bodies, unattached souls, and even the goblins she’d pacted with, would be fed into the formation like a meat grinder, summoning forth her demon with power to spare. She could feel the world around her moving in the fifth dimension, all the way to the very edge of Nith, the space between their world and the border of reality. The hook was baited, and the line was cast—all that was left was for the demons beyond their layer of reality, beyond the void sea that separated them, to heed the call, and take hold.
Then, it all came crashing down.
A colossal pillar of light, shining a brilliant pale blue, thrust into the air like a spear stabbing into the night sky, erupting from the remains of the inn. Debris flew into the air, scattering across the village and showering homes and goblins alike. The intensity reached the level of a burning star, lighting up the countryside for miles around. The ascending beam only halted after striking its desired destination high over the village, and there, it started to consolidate.
A massive orb of blue began forming, growing in size exponentially until it rivalled the moons in the night sky for space.
The beam slowly shrank in size, feeding the expanse of the new sun until it finally fizzled and faded away, leaving behind its radiant child watching over the landscape. All creatures looked upon the spectacle with awe, a sight like no other.
Her elven eyes were cracked wide open, her mouth slightly agape at the great blue orb, so large it covered more than half the village. There were no black shadows, no greater presence, they didn’t even make contact with a demon. Whatever caused the beam of light completely broke her ritual before any of her material could be properly offered. Yet, this failure didn’t even register, her mind focused solely on the phenomena above them.
“Impossible,” she voiced her thoughts, her expression indescribable, “Is that… mana? No… it can’t be, it can’t be. This is the middle-of-nowhere, a human settlement of no importance, yet that bluish hue, it can’t be anything else. How is it here in such abundance?” The elf stepped forward slowly, like one approaching an object of reverence. “This is… Amazing, this is absolutely amazing!”
“Mana? What are you talking about?” Miya spoke with a pained voice, the spear still impaling her leg. The elf’s expression turned cold when she looked at the knight. Her shoulder glowed red, and the crafted spear inside the knight’s leg turned into smoke, returning to her body. Miya cried out in pain, using what she could spare in her formation to stop herself from bleeding to death.
“Tell me everything you know, now!” The elf shouted; the first time she’d seen the invader so rattled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I still don’t even know why you’re here,” Miya answered, receiving the elf’s boot to her stomach for her efforts, knocking her to the ground.
“Let’s start with that!” the elf pointed to the blue sun suspended over the village. “How are you humans storing so much unsealed mana, and why did you choose such a remote village?!” The once confident and arrogant elf bared her emotions openly, revealing the extent of her fury at this discovery. “You damn humans talk about the evils of mana, happy to watch the world burn around you while you cosy up to those feathered freakshows, yet you have the audacity to conceal something like this?!” She pressed her foot on the open wound in Miya’s leg, maximising the knight’s suffering. “Who is the mage behind all of this? A human? Who am I kidding, they’re likely from a species with actual talent, and not from a race of incompetent slaves that move from one master to another like Veshya’s harlots move between clients,” Miya almost lost a tooth from the swift kick to her head.
“There are only humans living here, and mana has been sealed for a thousand years, you dumb spikey bitc—AAAHH!” Miya yelped and coughed as she was kicked in the gut again.
“Do you take me for a fool, human?! Do you believe my eyes deceive me?!
“I’m telling you, there’s nothing…”
“Enough with your lies! Tell me who they are! A greying demi-human? An ancient beastling? Or do you harbour one of my kin within this remote settlement?
“I didn’t realise those spikey ears were just for decoration because I could have sworn, I just told you, there’s no damn mages here—AHH!”
“Outsiders, then!”
“Where do you think we are? Only merchants and settlers come through here, that and Aksel’s party with the other… knight.” Miya found herself stumbling on that last word, the statement feeling… wrong to her.
“You’re useless to me then!” the elf bellowed, conjuring a new, shorter spear in her hand. Just before a killing blow could be struck, Miya’s body exploded with a brilliant golden light. The elf reeled back, as the knight swiftly rose to her feet once more, her newly reclaimed sword slashing the elf from hip to shoulder across her torso. A spray of blood splashed across Miya’s face, staining her sword red.
Her sword came back around for a second strike, but her foe was too nimble, and threw herself over the edge of the ridge before another swing could land. The knight watched her tumble down the hill until the foliage and trees finally obscured her. Unable to ignore her injuries any longer, she collapsed to her knees, her breathing heavy, sweating for all she was worth, with her muscles crying out in exhaustion and agony.
That burst of light she unleashed was her final gambit, an all-or-nothing move. By channelling every ounce of energy left in her body and expelling it out in all directions, she created a dazzling display while pushing her body far past its limits in a brief surge of power. There was, of course, a reason this desperate maneuvre was a last resort. Now drained of all divine essence, Miya was less than useless. Her body ran cold with the luxurious heat of the divine now completely absent from her system, her joints locking up, her breathing becoming more rapid, and her heart rate quickening. This was to say nothing of her injuries. She was an addict without a fix, and if she didn’t receive divine essence soon, she was going to die.
There was only one option left.
Miya closed her eyes, peering deep within herself, fixing her gaze on the divine formations within. Years of meticulous work had crafted the divine formations inside her but were now completely tapped dry of any energy. Her mental focus honed on one of her circles, the largest and outermost of her set of five. These circles should be spinning like gears in a well-oiled machine but had ground to a halt in her essenceless body. In its simplest form, her circle was a solidified band of divine energy, enhancing her capacity to manipulate, store and manifest the power of the heavens. It was an essential component in not only a knight’s arsenal but also for every member of the Faith.
“I need to reclaim it,” Miya muttered to herself, hardly able to speak.
Focusing, Miya began projecting her own will on the circle, demanding it return to its original state. Slowly, the manifestation began to vibrate, and so too did her chest. Though uncomfortable, it was not painful. Her mind hung there, watching with increasing impatience as the circle continued to shake. Every second felt ten times its length, as her body begged for relief. Finally, the circle started to dissolve back into the base energy that formed it, the vibrations decreasing until it could no longer be felt. Her body drank whatever was released like there was no tomorrow, swiftly cycling in the droplets to the rest of her body.
Months of progress, gone…
Falling into a trance-like state, Miya directed all essence mined from her dying circle to her injures. The elf’s words stuck in her mind—talk of mages and mana of a kind that shouldn’t be possible, and of the mysterious knight that came to her rescue just before she and Aksel were eaten.
Who is she, really?
---
“Heh heh heh!” Lyvina giggled, experiencing a level of joy she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but up until now she’d felt so bored, so starved for attention that getting to play like this made her so giddy that not even her growing fever was going to stop her.
She’d chased down and “killed” so many of the other children in strange masks, even coming up with her own mini-game where she scored points for everyone she took out. A lovely trail of overacting bodies was left in her wake. Though her wooden dagger was getting a little cracked, it was still usable for now. Her larping had brought her all the way to the village centre, which, instead of being filled with carts and stalls, was a near empty arena—a large open space just for her and this man in the tusked mask to fight. Surrounding them were the countless children, more than she’d ever imagined seeing in one place, observing from windows, leaning out of doorways, and gathering around the rim. Some even perched on rooftops, adding to the spectacle.
How did I not hear about this event before? This festival is crazy! Lyvina thought joyously, spinning around with her arms out wide. She basked in the attention, the thrill of it all. This was the greatest night of her life.
The massive sword came down, thwacking against the ground as she nimbly dodged to the side, surprising even herself with how quick she was. Almost as an afterthought, Lyvina kicked the man in the knee, almost falling over herself as she gained some distance.
“Huh?” She gave voice to her confusion, seeing the tusked mask man hopping all around while holding his knee in a far too overly dramatic fashion, his lengthy weapon left carelessly on the ground. It didn’t make much sense; she was sure she’d gotten in a few good stabs with her wooden dagger before, but it was the kick that seemed to get the best reaction.
“Heh Heh Heh!” It provided a cheap laugh at its absurdity, wondering why she was even bothering with a weapon when her tiny kicks and punches make everyone so goofy.
Well, I am the hero after all, no wonder nobody can stand up to me, she thought, her pride swelling within. Buuuuut…
Her mischievous eyes fell upon the blade that measured larger than herself. Every hero needed a famous weapon, and that one looked like the best of the best. She approached it, but the tusked man noticed her, and dove for the blade with all his overly dramatic might, sliding along the cold stone floor until his hand just barely wrapped around the hilt. All the masked children threw their hands up in celebration, some even waving score cards that rated such a flawless dive. She wasn’t going to give up though; after all, that mighty blade was destined to be hers. Ignoring the crowd, she stamped her foot on the man’s hand, grinding her shoe into him until he was forced to relent. Admitting defeat, the over actor withdrew his reddening hand and shook it in the air like it was on fire, his cheeks puffing up as he silently blew on it through his mask.
In her hands, the sword looked truly ridiculous, yet shockingly light. She gave her new blade a few practice swings and found that she couldn’t stop giggling to herself. This festival was so stupid, yet so fun—the most fun she may have ever had. With her mind growing more and more delirious from delight and fever, she raised the fearsome sword above her head and SMACK SMACK SMACK started whacking the man on the ground like a pinata, about to give her the spoils. SMACK SMACK SMACK every attack provided another rich piece of overacting, SMACK SMACK SMACK and all the children around her were cheering her on from the sidelines—she could hear it. SMACK SMACK SMACK this was the best day of her life! SMACK SMACK SMACK she couldn’t even control her laughter anymore, so full of glee and happiness. SMACK SMACK – “Huh?”
The sword had vanished from her hands, putting a pause to her manic laughter. She stared at her empty palms, opening and closing them in front of her as if to confirm that, yes, her gargantuan sword did just disappear from her grip mid-swing. At first, she wondered if she tossed it into the air with her upswing, but a quick scan of the sky didn’t show any sword ascending or descending. The ground too yielded no results either, so she was left scratching her head, wondering how in The First’s name someone could lose a sword that massive. Though her disappointment was immeasurable, her day was not yet ruined, as she found a new person among the crowd. A tall woman, wrapped in a black cloak, wearing a new type of mask that had inbuilt pointy ears and a facial expression that screamed “Why are you bothering me?” plastered on the front.
Ooh! She must be playing an elf.
Before Lyvina even spoke a word to the new person, the elf dropped down to a knee in a deep, respectful bow, with all the children following her example. “Huh?” Lyvina looked to her left “Huuh?” Lyvina looked to her right “Huuuh?” her eyes centred back on the elven woman.
Why are they all bowing to me? Does this mean I won? Oh! Does this mean I’ve become a hero now? What do I win? What do I win?! Her eyes shined with excitement at the prospect. The orc must have been the final boss of some kind, and this lady must be an overseer, here to deliver her prize.
After a few moments, the elven person rose back to her feet, standing completely straight as she stared at Lyvina, as if she were waiting for a response. Lyvina, however, had no idea what to do or what was expected of her.
Maybe I should ask?
“Erm, what happens now?” Lyvina questioned, but the elf person only tilted her head, scratching her mask’s equivalent of a cheek. Her head started to bob up and down like the elf was speaking to her, if in an overly exaggerated fashion, but no words left her mouth. A realisation started to dawn on Lyvina. Why was everything so quiet?
Come to think of it, the only people I’ve heard since I woke up were the other kids cheering… they were cheering me, right? I can’t… Her mind couldn’t focus, the fever burning her out even as she stood in the brisk night breeze.
“I can’t hear you,” Lyvina told the masked person, who seemed more confused than ever.
It must be the masks causing it, she concluded.
“Take off your mask,” she told the elven lady, who froze at the statement. “Take off your mask, so I can hear you.” Lyvina approached the woman with her arm outstretched. “Didn’t you want to talk to me? Just take that thing off your face so we can talk.”
The lady got visibly nervous, shaking her hands in front of her as a clear rejection of Lyvina’s idea. Lyvina’s head was pounding, growing ever more annoyed that the lady was making this so difficult. She’s the hero, after all, so the elf should do what she says.
“Take it off,” her fever-enriched words caused panic in the adult. What was she so afraid of? If she wasn’t going to take it off herself, then Lyvina would have to rip it from her face. Then they could have a proper conversation, and Lyvina could sleep off this damn fever already.
The frightened lady’s shoulder began to glow in shiny colours, stopping Lyvina in her tracks, her heavy eyes opening wide in awe. With a motion of the elf’s hand, a sparkly cloud of bright colours flew outward, so beautiful that she just had to reach out and touch it. The radiant cloud engulfed her palm, and spread up her arm in a warm, numbing embrace.
That arm quickly became unusable, flopping down to her side, completely unresponsive.
Huh? Was all Lyvina could think, looking at her arm in a daze, watching it be consumed by a sparkly bright fire. Fire? She thought, not understanding why her arm looked like it was in flames. She turned back to the elf, whose mask had seemingly vanished, yet the pointy ears had not. It was funny, it almost looked like she was a real elf. Though she’d never imagined an elf to look so pale and scared before.
“Forgive me great mage! That was only meant to be a warning shot; I did not predict it would ever strike you. Please, forgive me!” The elf bent forward and a 90-degree angle. A bow less about respect and more about forgiveness.
Mage? Warning shot? She could feel a cloud beginning to clear in her mind, even has her body began to suffer.
“I am at your service my lord. Please, permit me to mend your wound; I assure you, none of us mean you any harm,” The elf almost broke out into a jog, until halting abruptly as a figure emerged from behind Lyvina. Turning to see, she was confronted by the gruesome sight of a mangled orc sitting upright, battered and bleeding on the floor, right where the tusked man had once lain.
“You… little… Human… Bitch… TAKE THIS!” he roared, a trembling hand with two missing fingers pulled the eyepatch away from his eye.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“NO, YOU FOOL!!!” the elf screamed at the orc, as a little mechanical eye was revealed. It felt eerily familiar to Lyvina, a realisation that struck her all too late. A green flash enveloped her body for the briefest of moments.
In an instant, her body was transformed into the avatar of pain and agony. She could feel every fibre of her being, spread so thin across her body, being pierced by a thousand needles. Her blood turned to crippling poison, preventing her from even drawing breath, only spewing out the poison in increasingly violent coughs. She slumped to the ground, squirming as the poison took its terrible toll.
The mind shattering pain, finally, brought Lyvina fully back to reality.
Choking on poison, Lyvina clutched at her throat with her only remaining hand, her body overrun with the toxic substance. Everything was pain, and this body, whatever it was, served only as a container to deliver it.
I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe! Lyvina’s mind kept repeating, like a broken alarm. She didn’t have the capacity left to question her situation. Why she was alive, how she was alive, these were unimportant. No, a more pressing question was why she was still conscious through all this pain. Was she unable to pass out? Was she meant to suffer? Just how long would she be forced to endure this agonizing process of dying, dying, dying, dying, dying, dying—
A memory that she had long since buried under a mountain of delusion and pain resurface, triggered by her experiences. Her mind fell back into her theatre, ready to relive one more moment of her past.
So long, so very long ago, when the village was a thriving town of elven architecture, when the people’s faith defaulted to fanatical, yes, so very long ago. She remembered how it felt—the rope around her neck, how it agitated her skin, how the pressure against her throat made her swallow over and over in a futile effort for relief. The long moment of silence, of dread, and finally, the fall, her final plunge to her death…
But… no… that’s not what happened.
The First wasn’t that merciful.
The First wanted her to suffer.
She didn’t die for three days.
At the time, she didn’t understand how hanging a person worked, and she guessed, neither did the townspeople, but she learned, she understood. The noose tied around the persons neck is intended to either snap it or failing that, choke them to death.
But for Lyvina, neither was an option.
When the ground beneath her fell away, and the rope went taut around her throat, her weight wasn’t enough for the rope to snap her neck, nor was it enough for it to choke her. Well, not completely anyway. So, there she hung, dying so, so, slowly.
She remembered her hands being free, digging her fingers into the rope with ferocity matching that of any feral animal on death’s door, but her long hours of work only rewarded her with bloody, bruised and broken fingers. Now and forever, nobody helped her, nobody came to her, nobody cared. She was alone. And when death finally saw fit to collect her, she was transported to the nightmare she now knew. Now here she was, experiencing death for the second time, and one question above all kept appearing in her mind. How long would it take this time?
That thought scared her more than anything else.
No! I don’t want to die again! I just got my life back! Why do I have to die?! Her eyes turned bloodshot, staring with all her burning hatred at the orc, whose wide grin ignited a fire in the girl’s soul hotter than any other part of her steaming body. They need to die, they all need to die! Why do I have to be the one to die again? Let them taste it for a change, let them taste the same death I had to endure! Lyvina reached a point where she couldn’t take the lack of air any longer, the pain overwhelming her.
I don’t want to die! I̵ ̸D̶O̴N̴’̵T̵ ̸W̵A̸N̸T̴ ̴T̸O̸ ̷D̴I̶E̷!̴!̵!̵ I̷̯̐ ̸͓̈́D̴̼͆O̵̝͂N̷͈̒’̵̼̆Ţ̸͠ ̷͔͝W̷͔͋A̴̗̓Ń̸͖T̶̬̒ ̴͜͠T̷̝̀Ò̴̯ ̷̢̋Ḓ̷̉I̷̝̒E̶̳͝!̴̯̾!̷̲͌!̶̲̉
…
Lyvina’s fragile mind snapped, unable to bear the cruelty of the world any longer. She had fought for so long to keep her sanity, deluding herself as a means of escape from the utter despair that enveloped her reality. Even if it proved painful in the end, it was better than facing the truth. However, this was too much for her to endure. In this moment of absolute weakness, dark thoughts that always lingered at the edge of her mind closed in and consumed her.
*ZZZZZZZZZZ*
Bolts of blue lightning danced around her body, one after another, while a radiant blue glow emanated from her form, intensifying with every passing second. The colossal blue sun still present over the village began to fluctuate, responding to its master’s wishes and desires the best it could determine.
The poison coursing through her veins began to neutralise, and along with it, the pain subsided. With one eye, bloodshot and wide open, shining like a burning ember, she watched the orc and the elf. A manic, toothy smile stretched across her face. Though her throat was too burnt and swollen to speak, her mind was as clear as it had ever been. She fixed her unblinking eye on the invaders in her prison, who had paused their argument over the situation to stare at her. With all the burning hatred she could muster, she gave one simple instruction.
Die.
The massive ball of mana in the sky, ever eager to serve and waiting for the universe to assign it purpose, understood its master’s command and acted out her will to the best of its ability. From its depths, a single object materialised, hurtling down towards the ground in pursuit of its target.
“Oi, what’s all dis den?” The orc spoke, distracted by Lyvina’s lightshow. The endurance of his species was clearly not an exaggeration. Despite hosting wounds that would have killed a human two or three times over, not only had he survived, but he was even recovering as he sat resting on the ground. His leg, bent backwards at the joint from Lyvina’s kick, was pushed back into place, and the numerous stab wounds only bled by a trickle. She’d always read that orc’s were battle-made flesh, a biological tank, whatever that meant, so it would be interesting to see just how much punishment it would take to kill one.
“I don’t know, you dim-witted brute!” the elf replied, clearly furious with the orc. She’d almost met the same fate as Lyvina by having her blood turned to poison, only narrowly escaping by diving out of the way just in time. Since then, she had spent the entire time Lyvina was suffering, chewing the green monster out for his actions. It was a shame; she’d have liked to see the elf suffer like she did.
“Maybe she just needs another dose– AAAHHHKKK!!!” The orc was cut off as his face was slammed into the ground in a bloody splat, as the mana-forged noose opened its maw and wrapped around his thick green neck. Instinctively, the elf leaped away, her eyes in disbelief at what she was seeing, as most of the goblins still watching from the sidelines bolted in all directions.
“I-impossible, no, rather, incredible.” The elf spoke softly, offering her stunned praise at the display, as the rope began carrying the orc into the air.
“S-sword!” Despite the massive headwound, the orc called for a weapon, a hand stretching out to the elf for assistance. She almost seemed annoyed by the request, but that didn’t appear to stop her. Her shoulder glowed red, producing a thick black miasma that flew towards the hanging monster’s hand, forging itself back into the orcs great black blade.
Despite being carried as high as the village rooftops, the orc didn’t hesitate. Cutting the rope from above his head, he let gravity take the reins and came crashing back to the ground, the remaining rope retracting back into the sphere.
The noose was not yet finished with its victim, however. Though separated from its body, the loop still firmly around the orc’s neck continued to tighten, like a snake constricting its prey. The sword was worthless so close to his throat, so the brute was forced to rely on raw muscle to free himself, his vein’s bulging as he tried to rip the rope apart.
“I see, my Lord.” The elf turned away from her orc and looked over to Lyvina’s still-manic face, taking a knee once more. “I can only apologise for this incompetent brute’s actions against you. If you see fit, please take his life and the rest of the lives of these filthy creatures in your lands. All I ask is that you allow me to be of service to you, and that you hear my request.”
“He he he he he he he he!” Lyvina cackled at the elf through her healing throat.
“My lord?” The elf noticed something on the ground. Shadows, in large numbers, approached where she was standing. She tilted her head towards the sky. “Bloodfalls!” she jumped to her feet, swinging her arm out in front of her in a panic and forming a wall of black miasma in front of her, aiming towards the sky. A barrage of blackish-red energy bolts was fired to meet the wave of hangmen’s nooses bearing down on her. Some hit their targets, exploding into ash and smoke as the ropes burned to cinders, but many more continued their dive toward her.
She dove out of the way, the ropes hammering the ground she was just standing on, kicking up debris and dust that obscured Lyvina’s direct line of sight. Alas, such limitations no longer carried any weight. Lyvina knew everything about this village, this was her prison, her territory, her nightmare.
Like arrows, the nooses pierced through the dust, continuing their relentless pursuit of the evasive intruder. The ends of the ropes opened like jaws, and snapped at her body like rabid dogs, or unravelled themselves into loose loops, hoping to snare their prey and close around their body. With sight beyond her eyes, Lyvina watched her prey throw herself through a nearby window, entering the burning home, with a tangle of pursuers hot on her heels. The ropes could maneuvre well enough, but sharp turns of any kind proved enough of an obstacle to keep the game competitive.
Covering her face, she skilfully evaded the flames, weaving through the blazing debris and under a partially collapsed roof. In her desperate bid to escape her pursuers, she willingly placed herself in grave peril. One noose caught alight inside the inferno and was forced to retreat while the rest navigated through the burning obstacles unscathed.
With another bolt of energy, the elf blasted the back door off its hinges, sending its blackened, smouldering remnants crashing to the ground. She leaped through the smoke-filled opening, swiftly planting her feet and sprinting down the narrow back alley. A few goblins poked their heads out of nearby windows, curious as to the commotion, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either side. Her shoulder came alive once more in a rich red glow and all goblins nearby began to collapse and convulse, their bodies deteriorating rapidly as though their very lifeforce was being drained from them, leaving little more than shrivelled mummies in their place.
The prey planted her feet, choosing instead to face her impending doom only a few breaths away. Once again, she threw her hand forward. A new black cloud materialized, but this one was different from the last. Instead of unleashing another barrage of missiles battling her nooses for supremacy, the cloud transformed. It condensed, shaping into two distinct rings falling within one another, a slight gap segregating them. In rapid succession, dozens of shapes and symbols fired out from the smoke, placing themselves within the gaps and inner circles until a fully formed, ritualistic circle took shape.
The nooses closed in, funnelling down the tight alley where neither party could evade the other. Suddenly, the dark cloud shifted its hue into a fiery red, almost solidifying as its effect activated, before it unleashed a torrent of lightless black flames that consumed all in its path. Lyvina’s nooses burned to a crisp on contact, their very ashes disintegrating as the alley roasted under the black fire.
‘Roasted’ might have been the wrong word; the flames, though burning much like a conventional fire, provided no warmth, no heat, no light, like a spectral flame. The elf lowered her hand, causing the circle to vanish from sight. Her chest rose and fell with deep, exhausted breaths as her eyes surveyed the alley engulfed in flames, the surrounding buildings charring. After a brief respite, the elf continued to flee.
Witnessing her nooses go up in flames, while disappointing, did break Lyvina’s tunnel vision for the intriguing elf. That power was unlike anything she’d ever read about. It certainly wasn’t holy, but something told her it wasn’t derived from mana either. Not that it mattered, her time would come soon enough. For now, it was time to fulfil her promise.
---
“Hera, we really don’t have time for this,” Miya protested, though the priest’s hand refused to budge from her shoulder, pinning her in place. She couldn’t resist even if she wanted to. Not only was she within Hera’s domain inside the church, but she’d just lost a rank, becoming a mere 4th circle knight compared to the 6th circle Hera. However, Miya liked to think her wealth of combat experience would have given her an edge in an actual fight.
“I’ll decide what we have time for. I can’t believe you broke down one of your circles,” Hera chastised the knight, reaffirming her grip while the priest’s free hand pressed against Miya’s back, channelling divine essence throughout her body. It was always a strange sensation having another manipulating divine essence within her, especially after she had begun her training. Of course, it was still the essence of The First, and His warmth brought relief to her weary body and soul. “This patchwork you made is as impressive as it is ridiculous, you’re going to need hours of intense deep tissue healing back in Treda-ton before they decide if you’re still fit to be a knight.” The priest expressed genuine concern.
She was right. To be a member of the Knighthood, Clergy or Heretica, a candidate must possess at least a 5th circle. Now that she’d fallen below that threshold, her position within the Faith was in question. She could very well be cast back down to the rank of militant, forced to work her way back up, even embark on another pilgrimage to reclaim her title.
“My position isn’t what I’m worried about right now,” Miya affirmed, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before her. She was back in the church now, discovered by Hera after expending all of her divine essence in that intense display and subsequently dragged to safety.
David Simms, Maranda Forester, Rebecca Heartland and three traders she hadn’t been introduced to were moving pews in front of the church doors and windows. Meanwhile, little Jason sat motionless in the corner, his eyes peering over his knees staring into space.
The goblins relentlessly pounded on the heaven-enforced windows and doors, emitting a cacophony of barks, screeches and laughter in their sickeningly high-pitched voices. They had followed David’s group up the hill just as Hera managed to recover Miya. Somehow, the group had escaped the inn and managed to bring a whole horde of the buggers with them.
“Why are you getting them to move the pews? You know as well as I that if someone’s capable of busting through those doors, it wouldn’t matter what’s stacked up behind them,” Miya spoke quietly. Churches were designed as sanctuaries, impervious to any disaster that might befall a settlement, from floods and earthquakes, all the way to, well, monster raids.
“I know,” Hera didn’t dispute Miya, both of them watching the people working to move the furniture in the room. “But it’s better for people in a situation like this to keep themselves busy and feel they’re doing something.”
“I guess you’re right.”
“For now, we just need to sit tight. I’ve already sent Goldy away to fetch the Heretica, and I have no doubt they’ll be sending far more people than is necessary to investigate the megabear. I’ve restricted my essence usage to the bare minimum, so don’t expect any guides to be popping up any time soon, and we have plenty of supplies, so long as you have for stomach for it. All we have to do is wait here until the horde moves on, or we’re rescued.” Miya felt the warmth of Hera’s essence retreat from her body as she finished her check-up. “Phew, okay. All you need to worry about now is resting and properly cycling that essence you mined from your old circle.”
“They’re dead Hera,” Miya spoke, her gaze unwavering from the door.
“Who?”
“Everyone in the village, we’re all that’s left.”
“… We don’t know that.”
“And the person responsible is still out there, the elf who organised this whole thing. I can’t let her escape,” Miya’s fist clenched in anger.
“Miya, you’re not leaving this church, it’s far too dangerous.”
“I’d say it’s far more dangerous to let… Her, escape with her life. I don’t know what type of magic she was using, but if she can cause this level of damage, she needs to die.”
“And she will. Once the Faith hears about this, I have no doubt an angel will be dispatched from The Heavens to search for her, and wipe out this horde, and that’s if the Heretica don’t get here first. Justice will be served–”
“It has to be me!” Her words echoed around the church, the hive of activity pausing as the survivors looked over to the source. Taking a calming breath, she quieted her voice. “It has to be me. I have to avenge these villagers, I can’t leave that to someone else.”
“The villagers, or August?” Hera questioned Miya’s motives.
“Does it matter?”
“In the state you’re in, no, it doesn’t.”
“Then, there’s something you should know,” David approached the two, his face stern.
“Is something wrong?” Hera asked, her face showing confusion.
“Vine, Aksel, Theo, they’ve betrayed us all.”
“What?” Miya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “What are you talking about?”
“They lied to us, to all of us. It’s clear that whatever Vine is, she’s not a knight, western or otherwise.” David turned and pointed to the colossal blue light shining through the stained glass. “That monstrosity hanging over our village was made by that–that mage! I saw it with my own eyes, and her entire party is culpable.”
“You’re saying Vine made that thing?” Miya questioned.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. There was an orc in the raiding party, with an eye that could turn your blood to poison that struck Vine with its effects. You can ask any of the merchants if you don’t believe me; they’ve already witnessed one of their numbers fall to its effects. That’s when Aksel, after somehow breaking through the goblin’s ranks, rushed into the building and stuck his entire arm inside the small sack by that mages side that was no bigger than my hand. Rocks were pouring out of it like water from a river until he retrieved a red potion and poured it into the mage’s mouth. Then, she brought the entire inn crashing down around us, burying herself while we barely escaped with our lives. It was then, from the wreckage, that that thing came!” David repeatedly pointed to the radiant blue light.
Miya remained silent, looking down, as Hera looked away, lost in thought.
“So, I was right then,” Miya spoke, standing up while Hera was distracted. Despite her distrust of the elf, the invader was convinced there was a mage in the village for a reason. Couple that with David’s account of the orb’s creation, and it was all the proof she needed.
“What are you doing? You need to rest,” Hera stressed to her.
“Until I am deemed unfit or unqualified by a committee of my superiors, I’m still a knight. And as a knight, I do not fall under the authority of the clergy, let alone a local priest,” Miya looked over to Hera, displeasure in her eyes. “Unless you’re going to stop me?”
“Listen to yourself! Aksel and Vine saved us, saved you, unless you’ve forgotten. How could you even think of them as enemies?”
“Mages and their allies are enemies of humanity, regardless of race, gender or motivation, or have you forgotten that?” Miya retorted firmly.
“Perhaps the Heretica would have been a better fit for you with an attitude like that. Even if what David said is true, we already know them as friends and allies, certainly not a part of this attack. After all, David just said this orc poisoned Vine too!” Hera spoke out earnestly. “Please, whatever you intend, do not hurt them without speaking with them first!”
Miya’s gaze was cold, the first time she’d given the kind priest such a look, the two finding themselves at opposite sides of a schism. She turned to David. “Are they alive?”
“Aksel got cut off from us when my inn collapsed. Assuming they’re not a part of their plan, he could have been killed by the Orc. Theo was with us when we escaped, but we got separated when the goblins spotted us on our way here. If you want my opinion, I think it’ll only be the mage herself that we’ll need to concern ourselves with, for the moment.”
“Fine, I’ll go up the empty bell tower and fight my way off the roof. Everyone else will stay here until I clean up this mess–”
The chunky squelch of a skull cracking against the stained glass cut Miya off, blood smearing on its surface as the crowd outside fell silent. In an instant, the goblin’s silhouette now pressing against the glass, so lifeless and still, was yanked away from view, and the silence was broken. Unintelligible barks and shouts of panic filled the ranks of the monster invaders as they suddenly scattered in all directions.
The church stood still, the distant shrieks of the goblins growing fewer and quieter with each passing second, until there was nothing. The survivors found themselves alone, yet that prospect brought only more dread.
*BOOM*
The sounds of the reverberating glass filled the room, as unfamiliar attackers hammered on them, far more desperate and eager to gain access than the goblins ever were. The doors rattled against the bombardment, the pews shaking with the non-stop pounding it received. Miya looked to the windows, and for the briefest moment, she could make out a single outline.
Is that a noose?
“What is all this?!” David shouted, as the rest of the survivors started closing ranks around the knight and priest for safety.
“It seems our mage wants us dead as much as the goblins,” Miya commented. “Looks like we’re going to be stuck here for a while.”