My sound mana dissipates and the world goes silent. I start working on something for my right leg. So long as I can stand, I can fight. It is a simple blade prosthetic. A brace with curved steel to create a little tension as I rest on it. It's not much. But I shakily lift myself with force mana and try and stand... only to almost immediately slip. Shit. Obviously, this is a giant block of ice. For all the help with pain the green mist is providing, my mind is too muddy. I aspect more steel, my skin vibrating and itching as I do. The mana, usually smooth like water in a river, flows a bit more like infected piss at the moment. But it works. I am able to add sharp, thin spikes to maintain my footing.
Lowering myself again, I manage to stand. Holy fuck does it hurt, but I can stand. It's enough. If I can get Darian into a riot spike's sphere of effect, I will actually have the advantage. And with all this very meltable ice around, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. But as I make my preparations for the fight, the world remains silent. My heart hasn't beat in years, but I still feel that familiar anxiety of aimless adrenaline. Maybe he is still working with the priests? My poison is not easy to flush from the system, but he did go to the church. He should be angry. He should be furious. He should still want me to try and call off the riots in all the other cities.
I am half dead. He must have left me on the brink and left the priests behind to heal me. So he could hurt me more. Because he still needs me. I look like a half-butchered calf. I have loose flesh hanging from a poorly closed stump of a shoulder. I already lost to him badly. If anything, the poison should mean he needs me more. He knows about the riot spikes but... he is so powerful. So arrogant. He should know he can win. I sure as hell don't know if I can, and that should be encouraging for him. He fucking heard me, I am sure of that. He should be coming here to kill me by now.
And then I feel it. The pressure of his aura, exploding from the city. It makes me dizzy just to feel it. It must be fucking painful for any mages inside the city, is he insane? It's not a terrible idea for avoiding a riot spike, filling the area with mana. But surely waiting until he was out of the city would be better. Then I spot him. He is too far to see his face, but he is surrounded by five other men and a deep red mana radiates off of him as all six rise into the air above the city. Why is he aspecting it already? He pauses and an ominous chill peppers my body with gooseflesh. They start to rise higher. Then higher. Then higher still. Not toward me, just high above the city.
What is he doing? What does he hope to... I stop short, catching a quick breath as something hits me. Something I never would have considered in a fight against a man like this. He already handily beat me. I have a single working limb and a gut wound. I should no longer register as a major threat, just something he needs. Something that makes him angry. But not something he needs to fear, as far as he knows. But he is not coming to meet me as I'd hoped. A terrifying worry crawls up my spine like a centipede. He is too far to make out his facial expression, and he is not responding to my taunt.
It feels like I can read him, in a way. And he can read me. Our intentions travel across the distance without words and we are both unmoving. 'Come here'. We both need the other to come to us. It's not something we want, or prefer. We both need it. Because there is something I didn't consider when I adapted my plan to provocation instead of a trap. I failed to lure Darian out of the city the first time. He knows that's what I wanted to do. I thought he might come anyway, confident in his power and my injuries but... I hit him hard enough to kill him while he had the advantage before. I may have won there without the priests. I poisoned him and forced him to run mid-interrogation to seek more healers. He likely hasn't beat the poison yet. It is potent and attacks the nervous system, which his priests don't understand.
All this to say, he can't be confident in killing me. He has become aware of the danger of a small mistake. Maybe before he even met me, based on his own missing limb. But even more so now. He lacks the confidence I need him to have. He is afraid of me. He is too afraid to fight me when I have the advantage. The difference in our abilities is so wide, and his victory in our last fight was so complete, I didn't consider it as a serious option. But it's the smart move. Out here, all I have to do is handle his priests, and he knows I can do that now. He may not know how, but he knows I can. It would be idiotic to come to me, however angry he may be. I have grown too comfortable relying on the powerful's arrogance.
His entourage continues to ascend. I throw myself from the ice. This was a mistake. I propel myself with force mana to return to the city as quickly as I can. Shit. Shit shit shit. I can't beat him without a riot spike. I can't guarantee everyone's safety in the city. But this asshole knows that. He knows why I am here. He knows I fucking care about collateral damage. This means while we both need the other to come to us, he has the means to force my hand. He proved it, two weeks ago. He doesn't care if he loses a city. He cares if he gets what he wants. And what he wants is my cooperation. To stop the riots. For my circle. For help getting all the slaves back. I don't know. Two tones of red mana swirl through the air as I re-enter the city at breakneck speeds. I don't have a choice. He's fucking insane.
There should be too many powerful nobles in this city for him to do this. To even threaten this! This should have been the one city that was too dangerous to destroy. But, I suppose for the same reason, it is the most advantageous to eliminate. If he pulls it off no other city in the country has anyone who can oppose him. Fuck, maybe he doesn't even care that much if I survive. He sure wasn't that careful about it the first time. Maybe he's cutting his losses and trying to drive the point home that fighting back means death for everyone. Whether they were involved in the fight or not. Maybe he can't beat the poison after all and wants to punish me for it. I don't know. Maybe he really is just absolutely batshit. But his intent is clear. He is going to kill everyone in this city.
His mana feels like a storm as I fly through it, trying to reach him. I still have a riot spike. I can still stop him. We'll just have to fall together. I can accept that. I feel like I'm practically dead already anyway. I just... I just wish I could have saved Sarafyna first. But Ed will do it. Henry will help too. They don't need me. This mistake was my fault anyway. Believing my own goddamn legend. No one can stop Lillith: great woman of history. Fucking right. I was a spark, sure. But I've done my job. Now I just need to make it to Darian, activate this spike, and hold him in place until we hit the ground. But his mana, even spread over such a wide area, wants to devour me.
It wants to take my mana and crush it. So I push harder. My arm feeds spare mana back to me and helps me push through. It's like swimming upriver in the middle of rapids. I consider using light and sound mana to obscure my approach, but it would take too much focus. I'm barely keeping my force mana stable as it is. I have almost no chance of reaching him successfully. I already saw how a blind charge will end. But I have no time to strategize. No time for clever plans. No tricks to level the playing field. I was supposed to be the distraction. Not the entire city. I owe them this Hail Mary.
The shades of red around me are all-encompassing and I can barely make out the figures in the air as I ascend to them. I push myself harder and feel my injuries protest the speed with which I fly through the air. I get closer, and closer, until I can finally see Darian's face through the red tint of the world. And he sees me as well. In an instant, his mana collapses around me and I am restrained again. I grip the spike in my hand. I just need him close enough. The red mana keeping everyone elevated comes from him exclusively. If I can dissipate it, we all die, and everyone below us lives.
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He descends, just a little, and the obscuring mana around me dissipates. It rages in the sky everywhere else, but allows a narrow gap where I am. He has everything he wants. I knew it was a desperate move. But I just need him a little closer. Just a little, and I can save everyone. "There you are. My little revolutionary," Darian slowly claps. "It was certainly an admirable attempt. Trying to goad me out like that. And I'll admit. Whatever you did to me, the priests are struggling to keep it from killing me. Impressive, killing the ones I left with you, by the way. If a little ungrateful." I glare up at him silently. Come a little closer. Just a little closer, and this will all be over.
"You've shown your whole hand now," he remarks. As he descends I can make out the bulging, discolored veins from my poison. Appearing and disappearing as the priests sweat above him, expending all of their divine magic to fight it off. He may be in a position of power, but this move makes sense. He is just as fucking desperate as I am. I was overthinking it. He's not confident the priests can fix this at all. Maybe they can't. But he thinks I can. He tortured me privately to save the rest of the country. But he will kill everyone in the capital to save himself. I wish I could at least enjoy this small victory. But as it so often is for people in power, they will always make sure everyone below them suffers more than they do.
"You've shown your hand and I know exactly how to get what I want. I am done hurting you. I've done that enough. No. You will do what I say, or every single person in this city dies. Everyone but you, the palace, and the temple of course. I have a feeling that loss will hit you harder than a limb or two. So what'll it be? Tell me what you did to me and call off your revolution, or watch another city die below you," He offers. He continues to descend and I look up at him with defeat.
"... Alright. Give me a whisper sphere, I'll call them off," I promise. He examines me with suspicion, then looks at my hand, casually hidden behind my left leg. He scoffs and stops descending. Suddenly, the brighter mana all around me manifests. The sky over Visenar fills with burning magma in an instant. I can feel its heat drawing sweat from me. It hovers there, flowing into itself but failing to fall.
"I am holding this up with my mana. Would you care to take a guess what will happen if I lose control over my mana?" He prods and my face falls. There goes plan A. A sick feeling in my stomach begins to build and nausea insists I lie down somewhere. Instead, I give Darian a cold stare. Those fluctuations in his veins remain. The fight against my poison. I am almost dizzy with the illness that assaults me now.
"The sphere," I say again. He nods and descends further, until we are floating about a foot away, eye to eye. He digs a sphere out with one hand and offers it. I tuck the spike into my belt and accept. I hold the sphere up to my face and will it to call... everyone. Anyone with a whisper sphere. I don't know how many people will answer, but I want everyone to hear what I have to say. To witness what is about to happen. I give it a few moments while I glare at Darian.
"You're wrong, you know," I say. My voice carries to anyone who has picked up, more people with every moment.
"How is that?" He asks.
"They aren't revolutionaries. They are insurrectionists," I answer.
"What difference does that make?" he asks. I take a deep breath as I speak into the sphere.
"Everyone in the city below, in Visenar. You need to run," I warn. Darian sighs.
"It will do them no good. I'll just expand the range. Do what you said you would do. There is no running from this," he dismisses.
"If the torches around you are fed by fuel, run to where they are magic stones instead. You will be safe under the light of stone, but you may die if you use firelight. So run," I warn again. This only colors Darian's face with confusion.
"I told you. There is no running from this. What does it matter what torches they use?" I continue to glare. This wasn't my first choice, but it was a possibility I understood. I would have preferred to simply fall with him. But if this is the option I have, it is the one I will use.
"Because you made a fucking mistake, your Highness. There are thousands of families beneath us. You are planning to kill thousands of families. Innocent or otherwise. Noble or otherwise. Slaves, and workers, and lords. All of them know you murdered a city before, and all of them can see death in the sky now," I explain. I do this more for the sake of anyone picking up their whisper sphere. So they will know what is happening in the city. So they will hear how to escape, and so even the nobles in other cities will know what is at stake. And so they will hear what happens next.
"Do you think telling people how dangerous I am will undermine my rule? Is this your last desperate attempt to buy time? Telling them how many people I am willing to kill? Go ahead. You're only cementing my rule. And so long as your little rev-, sorry, insurrectionists hear me end you, it will have the same effect. Because," he leans in to speak into the sphere himself, "If any other cities defy me, I will do the same to them. If only one city is left at the end of this, I will still be its ruler. And you will all be dead. So surrender. Tell them, Lillith of Endings. Tell them what you look like. Tell them what your desperate flailing resulted in. For you, and for all the innocent people around you. Or tell them to surrender. Your choice. Either way, your clever little call ends the same way. You think I would have given you that if I were afraid of what you were going to say to them?"
"No," I reply, "I am not trying to undermine your rule. You are right, everyone is already afraid of you. Everyone is already terrified of the man who ends cities down to the last noble, child, and fucking baker. So terrified, many will only lose heart when you do it again. That would have the same effect. That would stop the people from fighting back. But you missed the fucking point. I am not pleading with them in an act of desperation. I want them to know even you can be killed, and so can everyone who has ever used overwhelming power to oppress them. I want them to hear the execution of the last king of Potestia.
"You made a mistake, Darian," I practically spit. I feel so fucking sick. "You showed all those people below us their end. Their death. You announced that it is inescapable. You took hope from them. You gave them terror and took their hope. Do you know what that is doing to them? To the thousands of people looking up and seeing hell in the skies above them?"
"What?" He asks with irritation. "Tell me what it's doing and stop fucking stalling for a hopeless evacuation. I told you, I will only increase the range of the destruction. So get on with it. What is it doing to them?"
I feel as sick as I ever have, but it's an illness I have grown used to. Because it is an illness I have felt a thousand times before. Every single time I enter the Radiant Woods. I lock my eyes on his. "It is making them fucking grieve." At this, my force mana explodes from me, knocking Darian and his priests back like gnats and catching most of the molten rock over the city before it can fall. This isn't the same fight as before. Because now, I have the advantage. My orange mana expands further than the red, saturating the sky as the magma presses against it and I press back.
Darian isn't done yet though. He presses against my force with his gravity. I cool his magma by stealing his heat. But I am winning. Almost everywhere. Everywhere but the tall pillars of mana he allows to fall in the only places I can't defend. Pillars where the vertical circles designed to disperse my grief mana point toward the sky. I surround these with heat mana, attempting to take the heat and cool them so they don't spread. But people are dying. I can feel people dying. It makes me more powerful. It makes me more sick. I fucking hate it. I would rather have died with him. But at least it means Darian is only more fucked.
I still hold the sphere, speaking so everyone who cares to listen can hear. "Today is the last day we suffer a king in Potestia."