Epim was not given time to think through his actions, as the approaching feral Bloodsuckers were approaching quickly at both front and back. He understood nothing of Miede’s sorcery, or the affliction cast on his allies.
His mind raced, sweat ran down his face. Although they had rested earlier, the exhaustion was beginning to show its accumulation. Maybe, if he were at full strength he could cleave the Bloodsucker in front in two and at the cost of Bart’s life, he could follow up and kill the other too.
Of course, he’d never make that choice regardless of the level of his exhaustion. Perhaps he was lucky then, that in this state he skipped over those redundant scenarios and clawed towards his only recourse of action.
His foot pivoted on the ground, his eyes left the Bloodsucker in front of him, and met Miede’s. Taking a low stance and pulling his scythe close to his chest, he launched forwards towards Miede.
In the moment of his launch, his eye caught Bart’s. The determination within them, and the message they conveyed was something he was unsure if his compatriot would understand.
Both Bloodsuckers were in her service, they fought for her sake. Seeing the blatant attempt on her life, they both launched towards him. Bart was left standing next to the body of Prose, unable to act in the momentary shifting. Slightly frightened, he examined the muscular frame of the beasts. For a moment, and then his eyes laid on Epim.
The one that had been approaching Bart made it to Epim’s side first, and struck forward with a heavy blow using its right claw, aiming towards the side of his body. Quickly disappearing from both his hands, the scythe reappeared in only his right as he tilted its position, catching the claw with its shaft before it made contact with his body. Epim nearly felt himself topple over from the force, and then the Bloodsucker on his left arrived.
The distance between himself and Miede was still far too much for him to reach, and Epim knew the next blow would connect with his body. Even if his cloak absorbed the blow, the force would strike him to the ground, and the moment he lost his bearing he was dead. A cost he proved he was willing to pay, were the reward great enough. Not yet, the distance was not enough for him to reach. He urged himself forward, he pushed all his force into his feet and pushed his hands forwards, even if it were just a moment, he needed to get there, he had to get there.
He would never reach, for the clawed arm of the Bloodsucker slammed into his cloak. He felt his body give way, his left knee slammed into the ground, the scythe disappeared from his hand and his right hand pushed against the ground. Bent over but not fallen, he lifted his head to look at Miede. Her eyes, still emotionless, were only focused on the fairy still on the ground.
The intention behind his attack was simple, his only other experience with magic unseen was Prose. Through their journey in the castle together he had surmised two things about the ability he had. It was taxing on the body as any other exercise would be, and it was limited to his perception. As omnipresent as it seemed, he was not absolute. He had missed attacks, and reacted barely in time. If he were not focused, his ability would waver which was proven just moments ago with their encounter.
And the other major point behind his rush, was one of pure conjecture. While the symbols on the wall of the castle had continuously sapped their strength with each activation, he had believed that Miede was not capable of the same. Recklessly, he bet on the idea that were her attention broken, Prose would recover.
Before he could lift himself, he felt a weight on his back. He had failed, there was no second chance. They would die without answer, and the castle on the cliffside would forever be a mystery. They would never return to Ducire, they had failed Bart. Despair washed over him.
When the pressure left his back and a black streak vaulted over him, he felt his hope return. Bart had bet on the same idea, and used his body as a launching point. He spread his arms, and glided through the air with his mouth open towards Miede. The two feral bloodsuckers reached out in futility, their attention had been too focused on the immediate threat Epim produced to react in time.
Miede dodged out of the way, and Bart instantly changed his strategy, closing his mouth. hH pushed against the door in front of him, not opening it but using it to launch himself again, his body twisting in the air and his claws aiming for her face.
Again, she deftly dodged, her eyes blazed as her attention fully focused on Bart. She snarled. “You’re just a beast, like any other!” Her eyes gazed upon him, and he once again felt her voice echoing inside his head, though this time much greater. His head split with pain as he tried to resist her control.
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She had diverted all of herself to this attempt, and she was sure that her success was guaranteed. She thought it would be quick, but still he resisted. Still, she was sure of the conversion until the ground beneath her feet shook and a deep breath called her attention.
Her eyes flashed over to Prose, who had only slightly risen from the ground. His wings wrapped around him like a protective cloak, and his eyes were hazy. His voice was not, it projected across the room.
“Blame yourself, for my lack of grace.” The entire tower shook, and the center of gravity began to lean. The tower in its entirety had been grasped, and it was now threatening to topple over. Prose’s telekinetic force was now unrestrained and free, no longer constrained by his own careful thought and consideration.
Miede truthfully had not understood the magnitude of Prose’s ability, but she was experienced with dealing with the arcane. She knew that there was an extent to which one could exert themselves and influence the world. Rather that was what she had thought prior to today , for it seemed to her that Prose defied all common sense, where before it seemed to her that he was simply grabbing and manipulating, this was beyond that. It was force, pure and simple. To the extent her own magic perception was numb, and she could only comprehend the horror with her physical body, so frail.
The Feral Bloodsuckers left Epim’s side quickly, not getting a chance to finish him off before they launched off. One slammed through the door, quickly entering with a great purpose on its mind. The other accomplished that purpose, disregarding Bart in his entirety as he slammed into Miede, wrapping his body around her protectively and nearly embedding himself in the now close to ceiling like state that was previously the wall.
Epim, only vaguely gathering himself, unhooked his cloak and threw it over Prose, hoping it would protect him somehow. Bart had quickly gathered by his side, skidding across as he hit the new floor that was the previous wall. The ceiling crashed down, and the floor crumbled. Vaguely, Bart made out the Bloodsucke around Miede as he plummeted down into the castle below them, then the other Bloodsucker shortly after.
The floor they were on did not fall as fast, or as hecticly as the others. Prose was exerting an inhumane amount of effort, as blood trickled down his nose. Unfortunately, he was not capable of precision work. The ceiling still came crashing down on them, and it was only thanks to the Shade, who had effectively been shaken awake, that they were not crushed. It had grabbed the previous ground with two of its detachable arms. And when the tower began to fall apart, it launched itself and destroyed the ceiling overhead of them. It missed their platform, and fell down into the castle as well.
The piece of ground descended slowly, still crashing through the previous ceiling of the castle, just at a much slower pace. It trudged through the ground, and they realized they were back into the main hall of the castle, albeit it could scarcely be considered a room now that it was filled with rubble in every direction.
The castle was now fully destroyed. To the outside world, it called the attention of everybody in the village and those quite close in the forest. For five hundred years it had stood tall, and it had now crumbled down so simply. The villagers were unsure what to think. Elder Bayt stood outside his home, looking on in silence.
“No… More…” Heavy rasps of breath filtered out from the cloak, and Prose felt sick to his core. The blood from his nose had stopped flowing, but his entire body had begun to shake. Even in the cloak, and with his wings wrapped around him did he feel cold. His eyes closed, and he hoped soon that his strength would return to him. “I’m going to sleep…” He muttered.
Epim nodded, content that Prose was safer completely covered by the cloak than out in the open. He had already saved their lives many times, his rest was well earned. Epim looked around, hoping to see the Shade in the rubble. He didn’t, and he worried where it had gone, or if it had survived the fall. His attention was quickly grabbed by a plume of rubble shooting up, falling back down to the ground chaotically as one of the two larger feral Bloodsuckers trudged forwards. It spat out blood, and fell to the ground, a smile on its face.
Again, another plume of rubble. This time however, while the Bloodsucker was clearly damaged, it did not die. These things certainly were tougher than the others, to a considerable degree. Behind it Miede walked gracefully, relatively unharmed though there were various small cuts around her body and face.. Miede’s eyes glared daggers at Epim and she spoke. If before her voice grabbed the attention of the soul, now it slashed at it. Her fury was unrelenting.
“You claim you want answers yet you kill without a second thought. You’re monsters, looking to blame and scorn!” Her hand slipped to the ground, her gray eyes glowing in the moonlight.
“There exists knowledge too foul, arts too evil to be placed upon the world. To save my husband, I’ll show you. The Blight of hunger!” A dark, destructive aura tore away at the ground. It seemed to steal life from the air, from the ground. The Feral bloodsucker that had died quickly seemed to rot, and they remembered the sensation they had felt in the hallway. Epim felt fear, looking at Bart and moving quickly, trying to shield him somehow.
He had no need, for the spell dissipated in an instant the moment her husband, Alucire spoke. “Miede, please. Is there really a need for such violence?”
Rising from the rubble, a sickly tall man with regal dark skin, not quite white hair. It was gray, but surely it had once been a much more vibrant color. His body showed no signs of injury, the previous Bloodsucker had finished its job with its life. He walked out in the hall, slowly, each step demanding force. His eyes shone with gold, and they made contact with Bart’s.
In that instant Bart knew it was the same man he had seen so long ago on the castle wall, he was their lord from five hundred years ago in the flesh. Their true progenitor, the man who had given his species life.
His wife quickly came to him, supporting him as he walked, closer to the two. Not a hint of aggression, nor rage came from his eyes. Only a tenderness that was impossible to fake. He stopped, not too far away but enough to speak. His voice was tender, mature and steady.
“Welcome, to my castle. I shall answer any of your questions. I am Alucire, lord of this castle. In truth, I am the reason why the Bewitching woods has fallen into such a state of ruin.”
Epim looked into his eyes, unsure if it was a trick or not, an attempt to defeat them off guard. But the eyes, and the fact that Miede’s spell had struck a deep fear for his life only to be interrupted by the man in front of him led him to believe it was not. He looked at Bart, who looked at him back. Epim then turned to Alucire. No longer was the sharp tongued Prose around to guide the conversation and strike to the heart of the matter, Epim and Bart could only speak on their own terms.