Though they had been rushing towards the core entrance, both Alton and Veximarl were halted by the horrific sight that was playing out before them. Alton immediately strapped his collar to his neck. Even if it puts his voice at risk, he might have to sing the melody that turned the snow into blades of combat.
“I don’t think we’re going to find anyone in this mess,” he remarked to Veximarl.
Veximarl pointed to the rooftop across the way. "I believe Chi is situated up there." Though it was difficult to tell if the huddled figure using earth magic was Chickadee or not. He had doubts that it could be anyone else.
Alton put a hand to his short sword. “It looks like he has someone guarding him, but I don’t see signs of Sybil or Zaniyah about.” An arc of lightning flew over Chickadee and towards a large bat that was diving down on the roof. “What do we have as our plan?”
"In theory, I pull the falchion loose, and then..." As Veximarl pulled the sword free from its scabbard and time appeared to slow down once more. He was surrounded by the same four figures, who all stared back with varying forms of judgment on their faces.
"You got pulled away so quickly that I didn't think we'd get a chance to talk." Alessia put her arm around Veximarl's shoulders and pulled him down so she could speak into his ear. "What a lovely mess we're all in now. A beautiful tribute to the flaws of mankind and what we've all damned ourselves to."
King Cadogan was less amused. “Let go of him, Alessia.” The woman glared at her uncle for a moment before she slipped away from Veximarl.
“This is certainly a mess,” muttered Frederik as he surveyed the scene.
Ilta clung tightly onto the edge of Frederik's jacket. "It's best if we put aside our differences and help him out, right?" She looked up at her brother. "He's our nephew... I don't think he's all that scary. Family needs to look out for family. That's always what mother said."
Veximarl smiled nervously. “It is an honor to be able to meet you all.”
The king narrowed his eyes and then looked away. “We’re hardly family.”
“Father! Don’t be rude like that!” Ilta stamped her foot and pouted. She then approached Veximarl and thrust out her hand. “I’m your Auntie Ilta! It’s nice to meet you!”
“A pleasure,” replied Veximarl as he gently shook her hand.
Frederik wasn’t as receiving. “You forget that we are not even real, Ilta. We’re byproducts of flawed blood iron crafting.”
Alessia nodded. "We're fractured memories that have accidentally taken these shapes, and it's all his fault." She gestured to Veximarl. "We wouldn't have woken at all if it weren't for him."
Veximarl took a step back as Alessia grinned at him. “... I’m not certain what you mean?”
Alessia took another step towards him. "Though others have used the blade without our appearance, somehow we were activated when your life was put in danger. Blood sensed out blood, and those closest to Erskine sought to save his son's life… Now we're stuck like this since we don't know how to change our forms."
Sybil had said that the first time she had seen these figures was when she thought Veximarl had died. It was after he had confronted the Dudley brothers and had been forced off the bridge. Though it was true that he panicked when he fell and called upon any death that he could muster to save himself during those fleeting moments. Could it be that their awakening had somehow been his fault this entire time?
Veximarl put a hand to his mouth. He was feeling ill. If he had a choice between awakening them or allowing them to sleep, he would've never cast that spell in the first place. It had done nothing but cause Sybil worry.
Frederik folded his arms and looked off to the side. “We are false representations and shadows of our living selves. Since we have awakened, Tria has decided that we are to serve as guides to those who can use the blade. Nothing more.”
The four fell silent, showing varying signs of sadness at their fate. Veximarl wanted to show some sympathy, but he had no idea what to say. “... I was told that you had offered Sybil advice whenever she faced battle.” Alessia shot him a glare and Veximarl immediately stiffened up.
"Fine. Use us and then hide us away... That's what she always did, after all." Alessia pouted sarcastically.
Veximarl began to mutter. "I assure you that is hardly the case. This is quite new to me and I have no plans to make this my weapon. As soon as I find Sybil, I will be returning you to her."
Cadogan spoke up next. “This is an organized attack. Something is commanding these beasts.”
"That would be the would-be." The four stared at Veximarl again. "It's, hrm… A very large tainted beast that has stronger abilities than others. It's possible that it has been planning an attack like this for a while and the festival seemed like the best opportunity to strike."
Though they might have been being herded by other tainted beasts as well. Some creatures rivaled Martyr in size, and they had formed packs with several smaller beasts. This wasn't going to be an easy fight.
“There is a miasma causing illness among your fighters,” stated Cadogan.
"Yes. The tainted mist." Veximarl held up the falchion. "If I tap into the power of the heart, I will be able to create a ward large enough to purge this area. There will be a near-instant improvement in everyone's health and it may even draw the would-be directly towards my location."
Cadogan gestured to the chaos around him. “Then it appears as though you have no need for us.”
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Time sped up around Veximarl once more as the figures shattered into ash. The necromancer stood there absentmindedly for a second. That moment was nearly as disappointing as his reunion with his mother. Surely, he was going to be in desperate need of therapy after this.
Alton looked over at him. “... And then what? What are you supposed to do after you pull out the sword? Is something supposed to happen?” He glanced between the sword and the necromancer, looking for any traces that something had occurred.
“I suppose we go towards there.” Veximarl gestured towards the center area where the core entrance was. “And I’ll attempt to purge the miasma from the area. Hold this for me.”
Veximarl handed over the sword so he could put his spear together. This was the first time that Alton had gotten a close look at the falchion. He gave it a few shakes and then frowned. It didn’t feel any different from a regular sword. The balance was good. It actually felt quite comfortable in his hand. Other than that, it was beautiful to look at. That’s all it appeared to have going for it.
“There we go.” Veximarl finished twisting the spear together and Alton handed him back the sword. The necromancer looked very uncomfortable to be holding both weapons. “This is odd. I feel as though I should have armor... We should go fetch some armor for ourselves.”
He was still in his hospital uniform and Alton was wearing an expensive suit. The squire rolled his eyes as he gave his own sword a few practice swings. Alton would argue that Veximarl should always be prepared for combat as a "paladin trainee" but also realized that a suit of armor didn't work well in a hospital. Giving his free hand a flex, his shield fanned out from his bracer and he patted Veximarl on the back.
“Let’s start running.”
Before Veximarl could protest further, Alton broke out ahead. The necromancer chased after him, summoning his shield quickly to block a dog-sized cricket that leaped at the pair. "Perhaps we should've sought more support before we- Ahh!"
A spiral of coins flew up next to the pair. They blasted a series of energy bolts in front of Veximarl, setting the beast that was about to clamp down on him on fire. His gaze snapped towards Trenchall, who was running towards them on foot. Both the necromancer and squire gave pause as the mage skidded to a stop in front of them.
“Orders from Lady Flay. All Braytons squires are to defend the outer rim of the perimeter.” When Alton took a step towards the center of the core, Trenchall’s coins summoned a series of icicles to block off his path.
“We’re attempting a ritual which will purge the area of miasma,” argued Alton. “Get out of our way.”
Veximarl laughed nervously as more coins started to hover around the pair. “We need to be at the center for it to work.”
“Disobeying direct orders of a knight is grounds for expulsion,” replied Trenchall.
Alton and Veximarl looked at each other. “We do that all the time and we’ve never been severely punished before,” replied Alton.
Veximarl agreed. “I suppose we can push our luck just one more time. Martyr!” Light started to wisp out from his spear as Veximarl thrust it forward.
As the light formed into Martyr's body, it twisted about and became solid. The massive horned cat shook her features, her white fur blending in with the nearby snow. She looked much healthier than she did when she fought Sybil in life, with a full coat of fur and a muscular frame rather than an anorexic one.
Also, she wasn't made of light.
She was quite the fleshy sort of beast.
Veximarl’s features froze as Martyr lowered her head so he could mount her back. “... Hrm.” He blinked a few times and lowered his spear. Semira’s adjustments to his weapon were… This was his fault for not asking what she was planning on doing with his spear.
“Uh…” Alton pointed at the beast. “What?!”
“Get on!” Veximarl awkwardly climbed onto the creature while Alton shook his head back and forth. “Please!” Alton grimaced, looked over at Trenchall, and decided his chances were better with the crazed necromancer.
Trenchall narrowed his eyes at the two sped off. He didn’t feel like dealing with it. The knights were the ones that decided punishments. Flay was especially fond of interesting ones. Maybe she would let him volunteer to deliver it. He’ll just have to wait and see what sort of fun he could get into later.
Holding the heart out to the side, Veximarl started to speak to it. “Good morning!”
"It's close to the afternoon!" Alton cried back.
“Not you!” Called back Veximarl.
A blinding light burst out from the sword as Martyr skidded to a stop on what remained of the core barrier. The two dismounted and Alton with Martyr went to defend Veximarl. He made a few choice swings of the blade as he said a prayer to Tria.
With the heart in hand, magic flowed through him more easily. He was more in tune with himself than he ever imagined possible. Raising his spear high, twisting purple and red light flowed forth and formed a massive archaic circle that enveloped the skies above.
The runes spun about for a moment, then translucent birds began to rain down from the heavens. As they punctured the fog below, they burst into flashes of light and dissipated the miasma. A faint rain began to fall during those fleeting moments. Veximarl lowering his arm and let out a sigh of relief. He tilted his head back and let the water fall against his face.
All around them, the tainted beasts were howling out in pain. The stronger ones were skittering about in an effort to make it back into the core while the smaller ones continued to fight. The only task left for Veximarl was to locate the would-be and save his mother. He felt empowered. With this sword, he would no doubt succeed.
His calm demeanor was easily shattered, as was the ground below him, by a roar. A hand of mist blasted through the stone and tore away the rest of the core barrier. Veximarl let out a high pitched scream as he tumbled down with the rocks and into the depths below.
"Vex!" Alton stretched out a hand towards him but was yanked back by Martyr. She leaped across the falling boulders and scrambled to safety. "Go back for him!" He let out a grunt as he was dropped roughly on the ground. Martyr jumped over him and pounced on a beast that had attempted to attack Alton.
Veximarl twisted uncontrollably through the air, losing his grip on the sword in the process. Panic and disorientation had to be pushed aside. As long as he survived, he would still have a chance to succeed. He thrust his spear below him as he cried out.
“Cacophony!”
An owl swooped out from below and caught the necromancer within its talons. They flew up past the would-be as it seeked to snatch them up within its hand. Daylight enveloped them as they escaped the darkness. Veximarl was unceremoniously dropped next to Alton so that the owl could shower down a wall of lightning bolts on the would-be.
“How did you even survive that?!” Alton blocked a bat with his shield, ran it through with his sword, then turned back to Veximarl. “Never mind that! The would-be is coming after us! Use the sword to- … D-did you drop the sword?!” He stared at Veximarl’s empty hand with a blank expression. His jaw slacked open as he failed to comprehend how everything had faltered for them so quickly.
“I-I dropped the sword,” stuttered Veximarl. “What d-do we do?”
“Withdraw to the perimeter and- ah… Uh...”
Alton's eyes widened as the would-be crawled its way out of the core. Its ghastly shape began to crawl painfully towards them. Veximarl turned his head slowly as the creature's maw sneered into a growl. He began to have flashbacks to the time when he witnessed his mother being eaten, and when Grulick was gravely injured by this monster.
He began to feel light-headed. The sky was dancing around him as he slumped backward. His grip faltered on his spear, dropping it as he fell against Alton. Everything went cold and dark at that moment. Any sounds of battle faded into white noise, as did his ability to care about anything happening around him.
"Did you faint?! Dammit, Veximarl!" Alton looked to Martyr in hopes that he could toss the necromancer on her back, but both her and Cacophony had evaporated into ash. He looked back towards the would-be, who was already opening its jaws to bite down on the both of them. "Dammit!" His shield was raised as he braced himself for impact.