Agamemnon frowned as his boots set him down on the lowest level of the temple. They wouldn't be ready to fly again for a few hours at least, which meant their escape would need to be grounded.

"I thought you were going to slay the dragon big man?" Bellanja crooned sarcastically. "Question is which of you got cold feet?"

"We have a problem." He said, cutting her off and ignoring her. "The Silver Prince has fully committed, there's a small army of adventurers outside, Syrrax is distracting then for now, but we need to move quickly."

"The cities adventurers? They're better than some random militia sure, but they're not much threat to us or a dragon for that matter."

"They've got at least a Bishop with them, and at least one nature wizard of considerable power." Agamemnon gave the sorceress a harsh glance. "A Bishop strong enough to cast 'God's Shield' at that." The words left his unliving lips with some disgust. The Light cultists may have overrun the continent in the last millennia, but that didn't make their god any better than the ones of Old Mirno.

"Oh." Bellanja frowned. "Well yes, that would make things a bit more difficult for us. Especially if they can cast light magic on that scale so close to the curse's center."

"Would you two shut up?" The Old Artificer barked from where he stood, channeling what seemed to be a massive purple network of magical blood veins, slowly closing into a roughly spherical shape in the air at the center of the chamber. "I appreciate the need for haste, but this isn't easy, and I could do without distractions."

"Tch, Bastard." Ballanja snorted, but she shut her mouth nonetheless. Agamemnon for his part nodded. This was what the artificer had been recruited for after all, well, one of the reasons. The mistress had a great many uses for the greatest living master of biological magic items. Supposedly he was valuable enough that she even intended to follow through with her promise of immortality.

If so, he would be the first minion of her’s to actually receive that vile gift in more than a century.

As if to demonstrate his abilities the man was even now starting the ritual proper. A sphere of black obsidian had been prepared in advance, and now lay at the center of several arcane rings. Velucan in design, they were made of a number of different metals and interacted in some magnetic fashion beyond Agamemnon’s limited understanding.

Whatever was happening with the objects though, he certainly took notice as the Artificer’s eyes turned a solid black and begin to leak tar-like tears down his face. Magic words began to pour from his lips even as the entire chamber began to shake.

‘Hope he finishes before this place comes down on us.’ the death knight sighed, glancing back and forth across the chamber. ‘Or before they kill Syrrax…’

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The winds screamed in my ears, and the oppressive darkness clung to me like a blanket as I recovered from my unconsciousness. My body ached from the exertion of utilizing such a powerful holy spell, but I didn't exactly have time to recover as the first thing I saw was the undead dragon's black fire burning by in a great pillar some thirty feet below us.

"You're awake? Thank God!" Mary shouted, near to my ear, and I looked up to see that she was the one holding me to the… giant bird. Ahh, it felt like my teacher, that made sense then. I wonder if I would ever learn to.

Wait, focus, dragon.

"W-what happened?" I asked glancing back and forth. Karsten was holding the both of us to keep us steady, and I could hear gunfire from pretty close, so no doubt our dwarfish friend was also with us. "Is everyone else ok?" I asked urgently. Recalling the Dragon's breath. "Was everyone in the shield?"

"Calm down, Father!" Karsten had to shout for us to hear him over the screaming winds as we all did a sharp turn and I thanked God that I had a strong stomach. "Everyone else is fine, we're distracting the dragon!" He gave me a grin, then frowned. "Well, we tried to hurt it earlier, but I don't know if-"

"The Beast regenerates," Mary said, much closer since she was quite literally holding me. "Anything you can do about that?"

"I-I…" I felt within myself, my willpower was mostly drained… I was only starting to recover, but there was still that well of life magic inside of me… I didn't know how to cast with precision, but the beast that even now beat its wings after us was no small target. "I can try. Do you have D-my staff?"

As I felt Daughter Bark's living wood press into my hands, I felt a bit of confidence crawl back into my heart, the cloying darkness and the great foe did not seem so terrible now.

"Alright… let's see if this works."

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Karsten felt a grin of relief come to him as he saw Abbott start to move around, a determined look on the father's face.

None of the rest of them had been able to even hurt the dragon that was even now chasing them high into the air, but the boy had been doing the impossible literally since the night Karsten had met him, and if nothing else he might be able to protect them from the thing's breath in case the elf messed up.

"Is there anything you need us to do?" He heard Mary ask through the screaming winds.

"...hang on tight." Was the boy's answer. "This may make it hard to fly for a moment."

Karsten almost stopped to think for a moment, before instead clutching at a handful of feathers for better grip. A good thing too, because it was only a moment before the staff in Abbott's hands began to swell and grow out, a massive trunk spiraling off of a section of it as if a full tree was about to rip its way out of the wood. The elf indeed did have to flap for a moment to compensate for the rapidly expanding weight, but after a few seconds, they were diving again, to put more distance between them and the dragon.

The priest wasn't done though. Having grown a full-sized tree, albeit devoid of leaves, the branches and bought began to twist in on each other, as a painfully focused expression made it onto the boy's face. Though it wasn't that long, the process seemed painfully slow at the moment as the wood was warped into something like a great twisted spearhead.

"GET US CLOSE!" the priest yelled over the din and the dragon's cruel roars.

The Elf must have heard him, as they were soon turning towards the monster once again, heading for a nearly straight-on clash that they were forced to abort by yet another gout of unholy fire ripping past them.

Karsten was almost getting used to the horrid smell that the dragon's breath left in its wake.

A moment later as they streaked around the dragon's chest, a mighty claw swung out towards them, and the priest let lose the spear-like tree, it grew suddenly and sharply, driving into the monster's ichor and splattering it apart as the priest severed the connection between it and his staff. The great wooden spearhead was buried in the monster's claw and it let out a great scream as the ichor tried to climb up onto it as if it was one of the monster's ancient bones.

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"I don't think so!" The little priest raised his staff and a gleam of green light flared in his eyes. Karsten didn't see anything else though, not until he turned back towards the dragon.

From where the wooden spearhead had landed, roots and tendrils were beginning to spread out up the dragon's limb, digging through the tar and wrapping around the bone, constraining them as the dragon roared in pain and anger. Leaves and branches constantly forming and growing even as it used its other legs to tear at them, until it started to spread up the monster’s chest and onto its unholy wings. Green and brown of leaf and wood began to overwhelm the black and bone, and even the dark fire was smothered as the beast’s crooked maw was wrapped in roots and branches, keeping it shut even as foul smoke leaked from its cruel jaws.

Abbott was panting now, holding his staff tightly, but he didn't seem in danger of collapsing as he had earlier. His eyes were firmly fixed on the monstrosity he even now seemed intent to grow a small forest over.

"I-it's it dead?" Mary asked as they started to circle lower, and more lazily in the air, the relative quiet made Karsten realize how much they had been screaming their lungs out before.

"No, not even close," Abbot said quickly, sweat still dripping from his brow. "Its body is fighting back, I'm growing its cage faster than it can break out, but if I stop then the wood won't hold it for long." This entire encounter had been the most intense he had seen the boy, who was normally unperturbed by danger, if not entirely unflappable.

Not that fighting an undead dragon would need anything less of course.

"What do we do then Father?" Karsten asked, moving over the next to the boy. "I don't think mortal weapons will hurt it. We tried a bomb earlier and it-"

"Did all of Jack Shite." The dwarf grumbled. He had been nearer to the head of the eagle, separated from the rest of them earlier. " The blasted thing regenerated from damn near having its head blown off." He frowned. "If you've been holding off on any big spells… now's the time."

"I can… yeah, I can't wield the weapon, but I can make someone else's stronger." The boy said at last. "We'll need to get down to the ground, but I'll enchant your spear, Karsten. Then I can open up a hole in the wood over its heart."

Before Karsten could reply they were diving down towards the ground. It seemed that the elf had heard Abbot's words, and they landed by the side of the ever-growing small forest that Abbott was forcing into the center of this city of death.

No sooner were they on stone footing, than did Then return to his true form, and the first time since he has met the nomad, Karsten thought the elf looked exhausted. Then again, fighting a dragon in the air like that couldn't have been easy, and of them, all the elf had been putting in the most work. Still, to his credit Then made no comment to his own obvious exhaustion, instead of turning towards Abbott.

"How are your reserves, Church Child?"

The Father blinked for a moment, then shook his head. "No need to worry teacher, mustering the willpower to control it is hard, but I haven't reached near the bottom of my magic yet. Honestly, I didn't know I had this much life magic on hand. I've never hit the bottom before but-"

"Dragon," Mary said, flicking Abbott in the ear.

"O-Oh right!" Karsten chuckled as a bright pink blush came over the boy's face, and he quickly slammed his staff into the ground, sending another surge of growth over the trapped form of the monstrosity, which was by now covered in a thirty foot thick mass of roots and trees forming almost a small hill in the middle of the square. "Karsten, hand me your spear, I'm going to need to do this quickly."

He nodded, handing Abbot his spear haft, which the boy quickly held up in front of him, the growth magic ceasing for a moment.

"Hazoth Mentalmar, Flurmicala." The boy said, and the entire weapon began to shine with a golden light, though he staggered and nearly fell to his knees as he finished the spell, and Karsten felt worry color the group as the prodigy slumped.

"Are you alright?" Mary asked, rushing forward to help him up.

"Yes… fine… I've just.. used a lot of light magic tonight." The boy said, propping himself up and offering the glowing golden weapon to Karsten, visibly regaining his composure. "We'll have to act fast… I'm not strong enough right now to keep it enchanted for long."

Karsten nodded as he took hold of the spear, as his hands wrapped around it he felt a strange warmth fill him, tired and aching muscles felt renewed, and he could see clearly now and with confidence despite the dark. His will was bolstered, and he could feel the will of God in the weapon as he followed the Father up into the maze of roots and trees. Was this what Abbott felt every day, the energy filling him, the brilliance of heaven?

There was no doubt in his mind now that they would kill the dragon, and whatever other evils lurked in this place as well.

The way was easy as the Father literally opened a path for them in the trees until they came to a pit in the forest, and Karsten felt no fear as he glanced down at the only black ichor bubbling below. The spear in his hands sang for the death of evil, and the cleansing of darkness. Karsten didn't see any reason not to oblige it.

"This is-" Abbott started, but Karsten only nodded.

"I know." And with that, he leaps into the pit.

His boots sank inches into the ichor, and the tar began to creep up his legs like it sought to devour him, but he feared nothing of it because he was too strong right now for this monster to chew.

He raised the blessed spear above his head and plunged it straight into the dragon's chest.

As soon as that golden light made contact with the tar, it burned away and recoiled, spreading apart rather than touch the holy blaze as Karsten drove his weapon straight to the core of the monstrosity.

He felt the thing shudder when he found it.

He saw the light burst up from inside of it as holy lance met the very heart of darkness, and then he couldn't see anything anymore.

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They all felt the shuddering boom that shook the dark temple to its foundations. Foundations they were presently standing inside of.

Agamemnon stepped to the side to avoid a falling chunk of stone twice the size of a man. This place really was going to come down on top of them.

"How close is he?" He asked Bellanja, who had a far better sense of magic than he did. If that boom had been Syrrax hitting the ground, then they didn't have much time left before an angry bishop and a hundred other adventurers came pouring down on their heads with a vengeance.

"Close… the curse is in the container, but it is not properly bound yet…" she whispered in a hushed tone. "Do you think our foes will be here soon?"

"Indeed," Agamemnon said. "It is time for you to play your part."

"Feh." The sorceress growled, before taking out a crystalline sphere from her robes. With a heft, she tossed it into the ground. "Rise, serpents of slumber and fog, rise wings of night and drown the skies, come forth Kelfoth hear your mistress call."

From the broken sphere, a swirling cloud of darkness opened a pair of blazing orange eyes. Its voice leaking into the air in a wheezing, screaming sound like nails on a chalkboard. "Yesss, mistresssss?".

Agamemnon's nose would have crinkled in disgust if it hadn't long since fallen away. The undead was loathsome enough, but consorting with demons was suitable only for the most depraved.

"Spread your wings my pet. Drown this place in darkness so that none can see our leaving."

"Asss you command…" the demon seemed to preen, shooting up into the sky through the hole he and Syrrax had used. It wasn't long before a black fog that smelled and tasted of brimstone began to spill down between the rapidly lengthening cracks in the walls, blocking out even the sight of the dead.

That was when the Artificer finally finished. "It's done, it's done it's done." The man cried almost Giddily. "A millennia-old curse, captured and contained… if the Primus could see me now he'd-"

"Then we must go." Agamemnon cut the ranting genius off, even as he could feel the change in the air, the curse that had held the city since he himself had been alive was quickly fading away, but that meant as much trouble for them as it meant success. The Bishop outside would have the full might of his magic now. "Grab your things. We must leave before Bellanja's demon is banished.

As the Artificer packed up the bound curse, and the evidence of his ritual, Agamemnon gave a last glance towards the altar the curse had been bound to, and to the corpse of Nevan, the flesh even now burning away to leave only his skeleton behind. His curse held in place upon his lips no longer.

If nothing else, stealing the Tyrant's legacy was worth coming here.

When the packing was done, Agamemnon grabbed both the witch and the artificer, dragging them under his arms like sacks of wheat as he kicked off of the ground and up into the smoke cloud above.

It was time to leave this foul city behind, for the last time.

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