On the third night, they camped by a sluggish river, the fractured moonlight shimmering on the water. Eryk beckoned Pag towards the treeline, his voice low but firm, “Stay sharp tonight. We’re entering their domain”.
Pag frowned, “You’ve been here before?". "What should I expect?”.
Eryk’s expression darkened, “Respect, above all. The dead aren’t echoes in the Pale Dominion; they’re citizens. Offend the wrong spirits—or people—and we might not get a chance to make amends”.
The air grew heavy, damp earth mingling with decaying leaves. Shadows deepened, twisting into grotesque shapes that played tricks on the eyes. A low moan echoed through the trees.
Pag's hand instinctively went to his jagged black-bladed longsword. Its edge flickered with embers, hinting at the fire magic within. A shiver ran down his spine, a primal fear gripping him. It wasn't fear of the living, but something ancient and unknowable.
Eryk placed a hand on Pag’s shoulder, “Remember what I said. Respect”.
As they delved into the Pale Dominion, the moans grew louder, more frequent, distinct. Silent corpses rose, lights or flames shining from their eyes, varying in color based on their roles. Laborers had dull, earthen-colored lights; soldiers, fierce, crimson flames; messengers, flickering, spectral blues. Pag felt the wild magic’s pull, a siren song in his mind. He had to fight it, control the Infernal Vanguard within, or risk losing himself to chaos.
As they pressed on, Darleyn, who had been silent until now, spoke, her voice a low murmur, "I can feel it too. The veil is thin here."
Pag frowned, "The veil?"
"Between the living and the dead," Darleyn explained, her gaze sweeping across the forest, "It’s easier for spirits to manifest in places like this."
Lord Adrien, who had remained stoic throughout their journey, shifted uneasily in his saddle, his face paling slightly. "Are we in danger?" He asked, his voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
Eryk shook his head, "Not necessarily. As long as we show respect, they'll likely leave us be".
As if on cue, a figure materialized before them. It was an elderly woman, her face gaunt, her eyes hollow sockets burning with a soft, emerald light. Her spectral form flickered slightly, as if struggling to maintain its presence in the physical world. She was dressed in tattered, but clean, old-fashioned robes, and clasped her hands in front of her. Her mouth did not move, but her voice echoed in their minds, a gentle, sorrowful whisper. "Greetings, travelers. You have entered the Pale Dominion. Tread carefully, and respect the departed."
Pag fought the urge to reach for his sword. He knew that any sign of aggression could provoke a hostile reaction. Instead, he bowed his head slightly, "We mean no disrespect, honored spirit. We are merely passing through, escorting Lord Adrien to the capital".
The spirit turned its gaze toward Lord Adrien, its emerald eyes piercing. "The living noble seeks audience with the dead. A bold move. Know this, Valcrest, the path ahead is fraught with peril, and respect is the only shield that will protect you."
Lord Adrien swallowed hard and nodded, "I understand".
The spirit then turned back to Pag, "You. Pyromancer. I sense a darkness within you, a fire that burns too hot. Control it, lest it consume you and all those around you".
Before Pag could respond, the spirit faded away, dissipating into the mist like a wisp of smoke. The group was left in silence, the weight of the spirit's words hanging heavy in the air.
Eryk cleared his throat, breaking the silence, "Well then, let's keep moving. We don't want to overstay our welcome".
As they continued their journey, Pag couldn't shake off the spirit's words. "A darkness within you, a fire that burns too hot." Was she referring to the Infernal Vanguard, the wild magic that threatened to consume him? Or was it something else, something deeper, something within his own soul? The questions swirled in his mind, adding to the turmoil that already plagued him.
As they trudged deeper into the Pale Dominion, the landscape began to change. The trees grew gnarled and twisted, their branches reaching out like skeletal arms. The air grew colder, and the scent of decay intensified. Corpses became a common sight, some lying peacefully beneath the trees, others shambling aimlessly through the forest. Each corpse had lights or flames shining from their eyes, varying in color based on their roles. He spotted laborers with dull, earthen-colored lights, soldiers with fierce, crimson flames, and messengers with flickering, spectral blues.
Pag’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He knew that they were surrounded by death, by the lingering spirits of the departed. He had to remain vigilant, to protect his companions, and to control the darkness within him. The journey to the Pale Dominion was far from over, and the dangers that lay ahead were only just beginning to reveal themselves.
As they continued deeper into the Pale Dominion, a sense of unease settled over the group, thicker than the already heavy air. Darleyn remained alert, her senses seemingly heightened, while Lord Adrien shifted nervously, his composure beginning to crack. The previously distant moans had become a constant chorus, a symphony of sorrow that echoed through the gnarled trees.
Eryk, ever vigilant, scanned their surroundings, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "We're being watched," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the wind. "Keep your guard up".
The corpses were becoming more frequent, their presence increasingly unsettling. Laborers shuffled listlessly, their earthen-colored lights casting dim glows on the forest floor. Soldiers stood rigidly, crimson flames burning in their empty sockets, as if still standing guard. Messengers glided through the trees, spectral blue lights flickering erratically, as if still trying to deliver their messages.
Pag focused on controlling the wild magic surging within him. The spirit's warning echoed in his mind: "A darkness within you, a fire that burns too hot. Control it, lest it consume you and all those around you". He glanced at his hand, noting the ember-like veins tracing up his arms, a constant reminder of the Infernal Vanguard's power.
Suddenly, the ground ahead of them began to tremble. The moans intensified, rising to a deafening crescendo. A figure emerged from the darkness, unlike any they had seen before. It was a towering giant of a man, clad in rusted armor, his head little more than a skull engulfed in roaring green flames. In place of hands, the giant had massive, jagged blades, dripping with a viscous, black fluid.
"Halt, living ones," the giant boomed, his voice a guttural rasp that seemed to shake the very trees. "You trespass in the land of the dead. State your purpose, or face the eternal consequences".
Lord Adrien, despite his earlier nervousness, straightened his shoulders and stepped forward. "We seek passage to the capital," he declared, his voice trembling slightly but firm. "I am Lord Adrien Valcrest, envoy of the living, and I come to treat with the rulers of the Pale Dominion".
The giant considered him for a moment, its green flames flickering menacingly. "The living have little to offer the dead," it finally rasped. "But I am bound by ancient laws to grant safe passage to those who seek it. However," the giant’s flaming skull turned toward Pag, its gaze burning into him, "you, pyromancer, are a different matter. I sense a great power within you, a power that threatens to disrupt the balance of our realm. You will be tested".
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Before Pag could react, the giant raised one of its bladed hands and slammed it into the ground. The earth cracked and split, and a circle of spectral flames erupted around Pag, trapping him within its fiery confines.
"To pass," the giant boomed, "you must prove your control. Subdue the flames, or be consumed by them". The giant then turned to face the others. "Your companions may proceed unhindered, but the pyromancer must face this trial alone. Should he fail, his soul will become forfeit to the Pale Dominion".
Inside the circle, the heat intensified, and Pag felt spectral flames licking at his skin . Wild magic surged within him, answering the challenge and tempting him to unleash its full force. But he recalled the spirit's warning: "A darkness within you, a fire that burns too hot. Control it, lest it consume you and all those around you" . Knowing he couldn't simply obliterate the flames, Pag sought to master them without succumbing to the darkness.
Outside the circle, darleyn summoned a cloud of stone pellets, but Eryk restrained her , insisting that Pag face this trial alone. Lord Adrien, his earlier unease replaced by morbid fascination, watched intently , while Darleyn offered silent support, her lips moving in prayer or blessing .
Pag closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he reached out to connect with the flames and comprehend their essence. He realized they were not mere fire but spectral energy, the very essence of the Pale Dominion, reflecting the lingering souls' sorrow, anger, and regrets. Focusing inward, Pag acknowledged his own darkness, anger, and fear, refusing to let them dominate him. Instead, he called forth positive memories of friends and his determination to help others. He channeled the Infernal Vanguard's wild mana, guiding and shaping it, tempering it with his will rather than unleashing it unchecked. He visualized the flames as a raging river, constructing dams and channels to redirect its flow, harnessing its power without being swept away.
Gradually, the spectral flames transformed. The oppressive heat eased, replaced by a gentle warmth. The intense light softened into a soothing, emerald hue, mirroring the eyes of the spirit they had met earlier . The flames swirled around him, no longer menacing but protective, like a comforting embrace.
Opening his eyes, Pag's gaze was steady, his expression serene, for he had subdued the flames through understanding and control, not brute force.
The giant, its flaming skull tilting in surprise, rasped, "Impressive, living one. You have proven your control, your ability to temper the darkness within you. You may pass."
As the circle of flames dissipated, clearing the path ahead, Pag emerged to rejoin his companions. Darleyn hurried to his side, her eyes filled with concern, asking if he was alright.
Nodding, Pag simply replied, "I'm fine. Let's go".
As the journey continued, Pag understood that the test had been more than a display of power. It was a lesson that true strength lies not in force, but in self-mastery, in balancing darkness with light. Despite the dangers of the Pale Dominion, he felt prepared to face them, so long as he maintained control of the fire within.
As they moved forward, the Pale Dominion's landscape transformed, the gnarled trees yielding to a desolate plain. The chilling wind carried the moans of the dead.
Darleyn glanced nervously at the horizon, her hand close to her grimoire, sensing the unnerving quiet. Eryk, on high alert, warned of something approaching. From the mist-shrouded distance, soldiers emerged, clad in gleaming, black armor with crimson flames burning in their empty sockets. They moved with chillingly unnatural discipline.
A figure mounted on a skeletal horse led the charge, adorned with massive, twisted horns resembling dead tree branches and wielding a long, black lance crackling with dark energy.
The figure boomed, halting them and demanding the surrender of the pyromancer, promising the others could leave with their lives. Lord Adrien, pale but determined, declared they had done nothing to warrant this and sought only to treat with their rulers.
The figure on the skeletal horse laughed, a chilling sound, and rasped that the rulers of the Pale Dominion had no interest in treating with the living, desiring only to expand their dominion and that the pyromancer possessed a power that could threaten their ambitions. The figure’s crimson eyes burned with an unsettling intensity as he focused his gaze on Pag.
Pag stepped forward, drawing his obsidian staff. Wild magic surged within him. He glanced at darleyn, Eryk, and Lord Adrien, determined to protect them.
Pag declared he wouldn't let them be harmed and challenged them to come and get him.
The figure on the skeletal horse grinned, his crimson eyes gleaming predatorily and hissed for Pag to prepare to face the eternal consequences. With a wave of his lance, the black armored soldiers charged forward, their crimson eyes burning with unholy light. The battle for the Pale Dominion had begun.
Pag knew he couldn't hold back, needing to unleash his power to protect his friends and survive the onslaught. He remembered the spirit's warning: "A darkness within you, a fire that burns too hot. Control it, lest it consume you and all those around you." He had to balance the darkness with the light to control the fire within him, or risk being consumed by it.
As the black armored soldiers advanced, darleyn and Eryk stood beside Pag, weapons drawn, resolute. Lord Adrien, despite his inexperience, stood his ground, his earlier fear replaced by a desperate determination to survive. They would face this threat together, united against the encroaching darkness.
The first wave of soldiers crashed against their lines, and the battle erupted in steel and fire. Pag unleashed a torrent of obsidian flames, incinerating soldiers in his path, but their numbers seemed endless. Darleyn sent rocketing pellets of stone zipping through the air piercing through the soldiers' armor, while Eryk's sword cleaved through their ranks. Surprisingly, Lord Adrien held his own, deflecting blows with his shield, his earlier fear replaced by a desperate determination to survive.
As the battle raged, Pag knew they couldn't win through brute force alone. They had to break through the enemy lines to reach the figure on the skeletal horse, the one who controlled the soldiers and was the source of their power. But how?
As the first wave of soldiers crashed against their lines, and the battle erupted in steel and fire, Pag unleashed a torrent of obsidian flames, incinerating soldiers in his path, but their numbers seemed endless. Darleyns stone magic morphed into spears of jagged rocks she sent flying, piercing through the soldiers' armor, while Eryk's sword cleaved through their ranks. Surprisingly, Lord Adrien held his own, deflecting blows with his shield, his earlier fear replaced by a desperate determination to survive.
As the battle raged, Pag knew they couldn't win through brute force alone. They had to break through the enemy lines to reach the figure on the skeletal horse, the one who controlled the soldiers and was the source of their power. But how?
Pag remembered his skills and considered his options. Perhaps he could store a spell in his vambrace for later use. He could try a strategic strike, but one misstep could result in the death of his friends.
"darleyn, Eryk, with me!" Pag yelled over the din, "Adrien, hold the line!".
Channeling the wild magic within him, Pag cast a Flame Shift, the fire spewing out in an almost liquid wave slamming the front of the horde in the chest and face. darleyn and Eryk followed close behind, striking at the momentarily stunned soldiers, creating an opening in the enemy line.
They pressed forward, Pag unleashing blasts of fire, darleyn stone magic a blur of motion, Eryk's sword a whirlwind of steel. They cut through the enemy ranks, each step bringing them closer to the figure on the skeletal horse.
The figure watched their advance, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. He raised his black lance, dark energy crackling around it. "So, you wish to challenge me directly, pyromancer?" he rasped, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "Very well. Let us see if you are worthy."
With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a bolt of dark energy, hurtling towards Pag. Pag reacted instantly, raising his obsidian staff, creating a shield of fire to intercept the attack.
The two energies collided in a blinding explosion, throwing Pag back. He landed hard, gritting his teeth against the pain. He looked up to see darleyn and Eryk had been thrown back as well, leaving Lord Adrien alone to face the figure on the skeletal horse.
"Adrien, get out of here!" Pag yelled, struggling to his feet. "We'll handle this!"
But Lord Adrien stood his ground, his face pale but resolute. "I won't run," he declared, his voice trembling slightly. "I'll fight with you!"
The figure on the skeletal horse chuckled, a chilling sound that sent a shiver down Pag's spine. "Foolish mortal," he hissed. "Your bravery is admirable, but it is no match for the power of the Pale Dominion!"
He lowered his lance, preparing to charge, his crimson eyes fixed on Lord Adrien. Pag knew he had to act fast, or Lord Adrien would be killed.