The five of them had ridden the Lift down to the north road and were now hiking toward Split Watch. The roads were disturbingly empty, and the only sounds were the passage of the wind and the detritus, leaves, and dust carried along with it.
Maggie: Ah have a plan, but we hafta wait until sunset ta discuss the details.
Jack: Alright. No powers til then, capiche?
Layla: Yeah. How long til sunset?
Rory: A few hours at this point.
Jack: Go ahead and pull out cold rations for tonight, Rory. I’ll carry em. That way when it flips at sunset, we don’t have to forage for dinner.
Erin: Split Watch is something like fifty miles, right?
Maggie: It dinnae matter how far ‘tis. We’ll likely nae be reachin’ it.
The dwarf gave her best manic “I have a plan” smile, and the infectious grin slowly spread to the rest of the Chosen.
The salesman proceeded to bring out several bags of cured meat, a block of cheese, and enough biscuits to keep the dreadnought happy until morning. They packed the goods away into one of the spare backpacks, and Jack tied it to his own rucksack.
Once night fell, the five made camp and set a roaring fire.
Jack: Alright, Maggie. Plan time.
Maggie: Last night, ah dreamt a vision. Dinnae know if it were Providence or the Nightfather or the Mother herself, but it were pretty clear. Four stalks o’ wheat bein’ scythed down, only to spring back up under the mount’n, atop the Seal. Then the great tree sprouted on the seal, and the sun an’ moon came down and spirited the wheat away.
Layla: That’s what you call clear?
Maggie: Aye, ah do.
Rory: So what do you need us to do? It sounds like we’re supposed to go back to the Seal?
Maggie: Aye. Ah have a power ta send yeh back there, but it’s flashy. We’ll have ta do it quick, in case she’s still here.
Erin: Okay. What do we do?
Maggie: Jus’ like that?
Jack: Yep. Just like that. Tell us what we need to do.
Maggie: Stan’ all in a line, in front o’ the campfire. Then I’ll draw a circle fer yeh, an’ the fireworks’ll start. We’ll do it close ta daybreak.
Layla: Okay, so we’re gonna pop back to the Seal, then what?
Rory: Weren’t you listening? The sun and moon are gonna swoop down and spirit us away.
The salesman stuck his tongue out at the succubus, who scrunched up her face and gave him a glare.
Maggie: Aye, more or less. Now, get some sleep.
One by one, they drifted off, save Jack and Maggie, who sat together, watching the campfire.
“So, you ever think of going to find him?” Jack asked.
“Ev’ry day, Jack. Ev’ry day,” she sighed.
“What will you do when this is all over?” he poked the fire with a stick.
“Lay down and finally rest, ah expect,” she chuckled.
“Don’t be that way, Maggie. You’re gonna live a long time, yet,” he smiled.
“Ah’m sure ah will, Jackson,” she looked up at the stars.
Finally, dawn came to relieve the two of their watch, and the other Chosen began to stir.
“Up and at ‘em, scrubs. Time to get back to marchin’,” Jack called.
“Five more minutes,” Layla replied, even as she pulled herself upright and began to pack up her bedroll.
Jack: What do we need to do?
Maggie: Ah writ out the circle as subtly as ah could, in the dirt. There’s a divot where each o’ yeh should stand. See em?
Layla: Yeah, over there, by Jack’s bag?
Maggie: Aye. We’ll all back up, then yeh just stand on the markers.
Rory: You’re sure this is gonna work?
Maggie: Aye. Ah’m sure.
Erin: Quit pestering her. I’m ready. Anyone need help?
Jack: Go ahead and strike the campfire.
They completed the job of packing up to get underway, clearing the camp and smothering the remaining embers of the fire.
Maggie: Arright, ta yer spots.
Jack: Ready.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Layla: Ready.
Erin: Ready.
Rory: Ready.
“Blessing of the Twilight Garden,” Maggie invoked as she walked a few steps out of the crude ritual circle.
The shimmering hues of dusk began to twist around her, and a star-filled twilight flame filled her eyes.
“Umm, Maggie, why are we all in a line outside the circle?” Layla suddenly looked up, taking note of where the dwarf had walked.
“Ah’m sorry, El. Ah love yeh all,” she replied.
The realization that had just formed in Layla’s mind suddenly crashed into the rest of them.
“MAGGIE, NO!” Jack shouted.
“All Things Must End, Jackson,” the dwarf uttered, tears rolling down her face.
The line of nothing appeared, passing directly through the center of each of them. Even Rory didn’t have time to move more than an inch out of the path of the plane of annihilating force.
The Chosen fell, as one, the sight more than Maggie could bear. The dwarf shut her eyes against the grisly scene that would be burned in her memory for the remaining moments she lived.
Maggie Shadowbound (Level 63 Exalted) critically hit you! You have suffered an Overwhelming Strike.
You have suffered a Mortal Wound: Amputation (Cleaved).
You have died.
“HOW DARE YOU?!”
The Mother of Horrors appeared across the trail and rocketed toward her, hands already reaching, fingers growing into scything talons on hooked digits with too many knuckles.
Maggie didn’t even blink at her onrushing fate.
“All Things Must End. Even the longest and saddest stories must come to a close,” she sighed, and conjured the rushing line of oblivion just below her chin.
Roshana leapt forward, but was too late, her taloned swipe raking through Maggie’s decapitated body and flinging the cadaver away.
A few feet away, the dwarf’s head had come to a stop, her face painted with a savage rictus grin.
The dwarf had had the last laugh after all.
Or so she thought.
“The joke is on you, puta. I will have your soul and your face regardless, and I will do as I promised. I will wear that stupid grin while I devour your friends.”
The End of Heroes reached out, her right arm devolving into a seeking strand of writhing alabaster flesh, reaching out and absorbing the fallen cadaver where it had come to rest. The left whipped out and collected the dwarf’s grinning head.
The remains were devoured within seconds.
Unquenchable World-Eater’s Mark of Ouroboros has failed to absorb the soul of Maggie Shadowbound, Exalted of the Night.
Maggie Shadowbound’s Visage is not added to your collection.
“WHAT!?”
-----
You have died.
Restoring Chosen Vessels.
Restoring carried equipment.
You have lost one level due to diminished life force.
Somewhere between the Chosen’s bodies suddenly having throats to scream and then ears and enough brain to hear, the only sound that existed was the discordant chorus of agonized screams echoing off the walls of the Seal of the Nameless Wanderer.
“Fucking… oww…” Jack’s voice carried over the silence of the cavern.
“Thought you were the king of pain tolerance, Tex,” Layla coughed, then rolled over and threw up.
“Fucking… oww…” he repeated.
“That was... certainly something worth witnessing,” a strange but gentle voice carried across the cavern.
None of them were in any shape to spring into action, but each managed to raise themselves enough to turn toward the sound.
Across the cavern, sitting next to a small blue, smokeless campfire, were over a dozen elves, two of which were dressed in resplendent gear fit for… well… kings.
“Sorry, who are you?” Rory grunted.
“We have come to spirit you away to more friendly shores,” the elf dressed in golds and greens replied.
“And if at all possible, we should do so quickly,” the one dressed in silver and black added.
“Sure, why not. It can’t be worse than here,” Jack groaned and pulled himself upright. “Where’s Maggie?”
Layla pulled on Jack’s sleeve.
“Umm… Jackson… check your panel,” the succubus whispered.
Each of the Chosen pulled up their panels and gasped as they saw the last notification.
Your party member [Maggie Shadowbound] has died.
Maggie: Ah’m sorry, my loves. See you in the next life.
You are currently within the bounds of a Seal of the Nightfather. Would you like to resurrect [Maggie Shadowbound]?
[Maggie Shadowbound] and each member of your party will lose six levels, and you will be unable to resurrect [Maggie Shadowbound] for a year and a day.
[Yes] [No]
As one, four hands simultaneously slammed into their panels.