Asher followed closely behind Sylthara, his every step a careful mimicry of the lifeless Veinforged soldiers patrolling the oppressive halls of Nyxhold. The air felt thick and unnatural, laced with the faint, acrid stench of rot and ancient malice. Shadows twisted unnaturally against the cold stone walls, as if the darkness itself were alive.
They passed through an arching threshold and entered a sprawling courtyard, its expanse dimly lit by flickering braziers whose violet flames cast eerie, shifting light. Jagged spires of obsidian jutted upward from the ground like the teeth of some forgotten beast, framing the area in a claustrophobic ring.
At the center of the courtyard, a cluster of Veinforged loomed, their malformed, grotesque bodies seething with restless energy. Their armor was a patchwork of dark metal and pulsating flesh, the edges glistening with ichor. In the middle of the gathering stood a brutish Veinforged, towering above the rest. Its sinewy arms bulged grotesquely, and jagged plates of blackened armor jutted out along its spine. It flailed its arms as it barked orders, its voice guttural and grating.
“We kill when the boss says we kill, and that’s final, you whelps!” the leader snarled, the sound reverberating off the courtyard walls like the growl of a hungry beast.
A guttural roar of disapproval rippled through the group, their agitation growing palpable. Asher’s sharp gaze swept over them, narrowing as he noticed the source of their argument. Kneeling in exhaustion at the heart of the gathered monstrosities was a little girl.
Her small frame seemed almost swallowed by the shadows. She couldn’t have been older than ten, her fragile body trembling as she struggled to hold herself upright. Her matted, brown hair hung in unkempt tangles, and her lightly tanned skin was marred with cuts and bruises—some fresh, others layered over old scars that twisted and puckered like cruel maps of her torment. The faint sound of her labored breathing cut through the tension, and Asher felt his stomach knot at the sight.
The brutish leader jabbed a clawed finger toward the girl and growled, “Fine, fine! You can have one arm to share, but she stays alive. The transformation isn’t complete yet, and the boss says she’s important.”
Asher felt Sylthara’s piercing gaze settle on him, her crimson eyes flashing with urgency. Her voice was low, urgent. “Asher... we can’t save her. We have to get out of here. Now. Let’s move.” She grabbed his arm, her touch light but insistent, and attempted to guide him forward.
But Asher planted his feet firmly, his expression hardening like tempered steel. “Sylthara,” he said, his voice calm but sharp, “you’re bound to me, right?”
Sylthara hesitated, her crimson eyes darting nervously. Her grip on his arm faltered. “Yes... I am. Why? What are you planning, Asher?”
A faint, grim smile touched his lips, though his eyes remained fixed on the little girl. “You know I can’t just leave her here.”
Sylthara sighed, frustration evident in the way her shoulders slumped. “If we intervene, our cover will be blown immediately. We’ll have to fight our way outside the wards before I can teleport us out of here. Is she worth risking everything we’ve worked for?”
Asher’s frown deepened. He turned toward her, his voice dropping to a low, pointed tone. “Look at her, Sylthara. Really look at her and tell me what you see.”
Sylthara hesitated, her crimson gaze flicking back to the trembling child. For a moment, something unfamiliar flickered in her expression—pity. The faintest trace of guilt flickered across her features. “I see... a pitiful creature,” she admitted softly. “It’s sad, really. One I wish we could save, but it isn’t worth risking you, Asher.”
He said nothing, stepping forward toward the group of Veinforged. The jagged edges of their twisted armor glinted in the dim light, their grotesque forms bristling with weapons. Asher’s disguised form blended seamlessly as he approached, his movements calm and measured, like a predator stalking prey.
The leader turned his ugly, twisted face toward him, his crimson eyes narrowing. “Here for a little bite?” he sneered, his lips curling into a grin that revealed rows of jagged teeth. He glanced briefly at Sylthara, who stood silently behind Asher, her presence commanding a tense respect.
A low, steely voice broke the air. “Let the girl go,” Asher said, his tone quiet but charged with authority. “I won’t ask again.”
The Veinforged fell silent, their grotesque heads turning toward him in unison. The leader’s sneer faltered for a moment before twisting into a scowl. “And why in all the hells would I do that? Is this your command, my lady?” He looked back to Sylthara, his expression growing uncertain at her silence.
Asher took another step forward, his voice hardening like iron. “I said let the girl go. This is your final warning.”
Sylthara gave the slightest nod, her crimson eyes narrowing in what could have been either threat or command. The leader hesitated, confusion flickering across his brutish features, before snarling. “Fine. Have it your way.” He grabbed the trembling child by her arm, his claws digging into her fragile skin, and threw her toward Asher with casual disdain.
The girl tumbled into his arms, her body shuddering with quiet sobs. Asher caught her gently, his movements deliberate and protective. She looked up at him, her wide brown eyes glassy with tears and terror, shrinking away from his disguised form.
Asher bent down, his voice soft but firm. “It’s all right, little one. I won’t hurt you. Stay quiet, and I’ll get you out of here.”
The girl nodded timidly, her small hands clutching at his chest as she buried her face against him. Exhaustion overtook her trembling frame, and within moments, she had fallen into a fitful sleep, her breaths shallow and uneven.
Asher turned, Sylthara already moving at his side, and together they began crossing the courtyard toward the heavy stone doors at its far edge. But just as they reached the threshold, the Veinforged leader’s guttural voice froze them in place.
“Wait a second... something about you smells off.”
The brutish Veinforged leader raised a meaty arm, pointing a gnarled claw directly at Asher. The other Veinforged, like hounds catching a scent, began sniffing the air, their gnarled snouts flaring. Their glowing crimson eyes locked onto Asher, suspicion hardening into something far more dangerous.
The tension snapped like a whip when a blaring alarm shattered the air, its piercing cry reverberating through Nyxhold’s dark corridors. The courtyard erupted in chaos as the sinister voice of Vorlath boomed from all around, carrying a cruel resonance that seemed to seep into the very stone.
“The prisoner known as the Champion of Aetheros has escaped his cell. He is being assisted by the traitor Sylthara. Kill them both on sight. Bring me their bodies—I may yet have use for them.”
The Veinforged surged into motion, their grotesque forms bristling with violent intent. Weapons were drawn, claws bared, and the air became thick with the metallic tang of bloodlust.
Sylthara reacted first. Her twin daggers slid from her sleeves with a metallic hiss, the blades gleaming like liquid moonlight. The hilts, inlaid with ruby shards, caught the dim light, casting a blood-red glow. “Now we fight, Champion,” she barked, her voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
Asher nodded, setting the sleeping girl gently into a corner of the courtyard. He crouched low, his voice steady but soft as he spoke to her. “Stay here, sweetheart. Keep your head down and don’t move.”
The child nodded, curling into herself like a trembling leaf as the battle exploded around her.
Sylthara moved first, darting into the fray like a shadow given life. Her daggers were a blur, slicing through Veinforged with lethal precision. She danced between her enemies, her movements a perfect blend of grace and death, severing tendons and finding gaps in their jagged armor.
Asher stood, his body tense with the building surge of Aether. He crouched low, slamming his fist into the ground as he poured energy into his legs. The stone beneath him cracked, spiderwebbing outward as three massive Aetheric tendrils erupted from the ground. They writhed like glowing serpents, lashing out at the Veinforged. The first tendril snapped a serpent-like Veinforged in half, its black ichor splattering the ground. Another coiled around an enemy, crushing it with a sickening crunch before flinging its broken body across the courtyard.
Asher charged into the chaos, his fist his only weapon. His first strike shattered the chest of a hulking brute, his knuckles slamming through corrupted flesh and blackened bone. He spun, narrowly avoiding a blade that hissed through the air behind him, and drove his knee upward into another Veinforged’s grotesque face. The force of the blow caved in its skull, sending its lifeless form crumpling to the ground.
The air around him shimmered with heat as his flames began to stir, licking at his skin like a restless beast.
Sylthara moved with deadly efficiency, leaping onto the back of a Morvani Veinforged, her daggers plunging into its neck. She twisted as the creature fell, landing gracefully as her blades flashed again, severing the head of another enemy mid-air. “Don’t lag behind, Champion!” she called, her voice sharp with urgency.
Asher answered by slamming his fist into the ground, a shockwave of pure Aetheric energy rippling outward. The force sent Veinforged flying in all directions, their twisted forms crumpling as they struck the jagged stone walls.
Sylthara seized the opportunity, her movements a blur as she cut them down before they could recover. Her strikes were surgical, every slash of her blades aimed to disable or kill.
Within moments, the last of the Veinforged in the courtyard fell. The twisted remains of their bodies lay strewn across the cracked stone, their black ichor pooling in sickly puddles. Sylthara wiped her daggers clean, her breath coming in sharp bursts.
“Grab the girl,” she said, her crimson eyes scanning the shadows. “We need to move. The entire stronghold will be coming for us. We must reach the battlements and get outside the wards before I can teleport us away.”
Asher nodded, lifting the girl into his arm. She stirred slightly but remained asleep, her fragile frame barely registering in his grasp. Together, they bolted toward their only chance of escape, the Veinforged’s furious roars echoing behind them.
They didn’t bother with the door. Asher barreled through it with his shoulder charged by pure Aetheric might. The heavy wood exploded into a cloud of splinters and debris, the force of his entry echoing through the chamber beyond.
The trio burst into the room—and stopped cold.
Towering over eleven feet tall, a Veinforged monstrosity loomed before them. Its blackened skin was a network of deep cracks, each fissure spilling an eerie, pulsating purple light that illuminated the shadows in ghastly hues. Its glowing eyes burned with a malevolent intelligence, the slitted pupils narrowing as they fixed on the intruders.
Asher froze, his breath catching in his throat as an unrelenting wave of power rolled off the creature. It was a palpable force, thick and suffocating, and it clawed at his nerves like a tide of molten dread. The air grew heavier with every passing second, as though the beast’s mere presence warped reality itself.
The monstrosity twisted its maw into a cruel grin, and its deep, rumbling voice reverberated through the chamber like an earthquake. “Ah, Champion,” it sneered, each word dripping with venomous glee. “How fortunate for me to have this honor. I’ve dreamed of this day—of the moment I’d snuff out your miserable existence. Allow me to thank you personally for this opportunity.”
Asher clenched his fist, his body trembling as fury surged through his veins like liquid fire. Despite his exhaustion, he stood tall, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “The only corpse hitting this floor today is yours, monster,” he growled, his tone sharp with defiance.
The Veinforged monstrosity laughed, its deep, guttural rumble resonating through the room. The sound seemed to shake the very walls, loose stones tumbling to the ground as if even Nyxhold itself recoiled from the creature’s presence. “Is that so, little man? Show me, then! Show me what your so-called ‘Champion of Aetheros’ title means! Come at me, mortal—give me all your resistance!”
Asher’s rage was a coiled serpent within him, ready to strike. Adrenaline coursed through his body, sharpening his senses to an unbearable edge. His fist curled tighter, his nails digging into his palm until crimson rivulets dripped onto the cracked stone floor.
And then it came.
The fire.
It roared to life inside him, an inferno spilling from his core to fill every cell, every nerve. The flames burst forth, dancing along his skin in living serpents of gold and crimson. Heat radiated from his body in suffocating waves, warping the air around him. The room became a forge, the stench of charred wood and fabric rising as embers sparked and flared in the suffocating heat.
Sylthara stepped back instinctively, shielding the little girl from the oppressive flames. Her crimson eyes narrowed as she took in Asher’s transformation. “Asher,” she called out, her voice cutting through the din. “Get control of yourself. If you burn everything in this room, we won’t escape!”
Asher turned his blazing gaze to her, the fire in his eyes almost consuming. “Get the girl out of here. I’ll meet you in the next room"
Sylthara hesitated, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a blade. “I’m not leaving you, Asher.”
His face twisted into a mask of fury, his voice thundering through the chamber. “GO! I SAID GO! Nothing will survive in this room once I get started! Now MOVE!”
Sylthara grimaced but obeyed. Wrapping the terrified girl in her shadowed cloak, she darted toward the far side of the chamber. The Veinforged monstrosity lunged to intercept her, its massive form moving with unnerving speed.
But Asher was faster.
He raised his arm, veins glowing molten as raw power surged through his body. The stone beneath his feet splintered and cracked, glowing red-hot. A wave of heat rolled outward, forcing the monstrosity to halt as it braced against the suffocating pressure.
The beast snarled and raised a massive clawed hand, hurling a lance of seething dark magic toward Sylthara’s retreating form. Asher stepped into its path, his body a wall of flame.
The projectile struck him square in the chest.
Instead of piercing him, the dark energy dissolved on impact, vanishing into harmless wisps as if consumed by the inferno surrounding him. Asher’s lips curled into a grim smile, his blazing form radiating defiance.
The monstrosity froze, its slitted eyes narrowing in confusion. “What... are you?” it snarled, its voice cracking with doubt.
Asher didn’t answer. He surged forward, closing the distance with terrifying speed. His fist connected with the creature’s chest, the impact shattering its blackened armor and sending it skidding backward. The ground beneath the Veinforged cracked and cratered, shards of stone flying in every direction.
The beast roared, regaining its balance. It swung a massive, clawed arm toward Asher in retaliation. He ducked low, flames spiraling upward in a searing wave that scorched the creature’s outstretched limb. The monstrous appendage crackled and splintered, veins of molten gold snaking across its surface.
It howled in pain, the sound a mix of rage and anguish.
Asher pressed his advantage, driving his knee into the beast’s stomach. The force doubled it over, leaving it vulnerable. With a guttural roar, he followed with an uppercut infused with Aetheric energy. The blow snapped the creature’s head back, a spray of glowing ichor erupting from its cracked jaw.
But it wasn’t done.
The Veinforged slammed both fists into the ground, unleashing a shockwave of dark energy. The force sent Asher staggering, cracks spiderwebbing across the chamber floor. The beast lunged, its massive claws descending like twin guillotines.
Asher twisted aside just in time, planting his hand on the ground and driving his foot upward. His kick struck the creature under the chin with bone-shattering force, lifting its enormous frame off the ground.
The Veinforged landed with a thunderous crash but rose again, its body now a mass of fissures leaking streams of corrupted light. Its slitted eyes burned brighter, its movements fueled by desperation and wrath.
Asher exhaled slowly, his flames intensifying. The fire surrounding him spiraled upward, coalescing into a towering inferno that lit the chamber in flickering shades of gold and crimson. His voice was low, steady, and unyielding.
“You’re not walking out of this room alive.”
The beast roared, surging forward in a final, desperate charge. Its massive form barreled toward Asher like a falling mountain, claws outstretched and crackling with dark energy.
The collision was cataclysmic.
Asher and the Veinforged monstrosity slammed into each other with a thunderous CRACK! The impact reverberated through the chamber, shattering stone and sending tremors rippling through the walls. Dust cascaded from above, the very room groaning under the strain of their battle. Around them, swirling tendrils of energy coiled and clashed—a storm of Asher’s fading flames and the beast’s dark corruption.
Asher’s single arm locked around the creature’s neck, his grip fierce despite his dwindling strength. He poured every ounce of his power into the hold, his muscles burning with exertion as flames danced weakly along his battered form. The Veinforged roared in response, its claws digging into his throat with relentless force. Each crushing squeeze forced the air from Asher’s lungs, the edges of his vision darkening as the world spun.
The beast’s jagged maw twisted into a sneer, its corrupted eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. “Is this all a Champion of Aetheros can muster?” it snarled. “Pathetic. I expected more from a creature blessed by divinity.”
Asher’s fire flickered, the once-roaring inferno reduced to embers clinging stubbornly to his body. His chest heaved as he struggled for breath, but the Veinforged’s grip was unyielding. The creature’s strength was monstrous, its iron-like claws pressing deeper, the bones in Asher’s neck threatening to crack under the pressure.
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His knees buckled, the strength in his legs faltering as his body betrayed him. The air grew colder, darker—the flames that had once warmed his soul now barely a memory. He was slipping, the abyss of unconsciousness pulling at him like an anchor.
And then, through the suffocating haze, came a voice—a voice so clear, so full of divine certainty that it pierced through the darkness like a blade of light.
“Champion, I have found you, and I will never leave you again.”
It was Aetheros.
The words resonated through his entire being, filling the void with a surge of warmth and clarity. The bond snapped back into place, brilliant and overwhelming, as if a missing piece of his soul had been restored in an instant. He felt her power flood through him, a tidal wave of energy that reignited the dying embers within. Alongside her presence came echoes of others—Vicky’s fierce determination, Brynn’s unyielding resolve. Their emotions crashed into him like a gale, a storm of support that demanded he rise.
Asher gasped, his grip loosening momentarily as his knees hit the ground. The Veinforged laughed cruelly, seizing the opportunity to wrench him downward.
The beast’s laughter was cut short as the air around Asher erupted in golden light.
Aetheric energy surged through his body, spilling from the space where his severed arm had hung for so long. The light coalesced, swirling and crackling, before erupting with a sound like thunder. Asher cried out, the pain of the transformation lancing through him—but it was a pain that brought strength, not weakness. His battered body trembled as the light solidified, forming the intricate shape of a new limb.
With a blinding flash, the golden arm appeared.
Its surface shimmered, runes of ancient power etched into its design, glowing faintly with divine energy. It hummed with raw power, the connection to Aetheros tangible and alive. Asher staggered to his feet, the weight of exhaustion fading as the golden arm pulsed with strength. Flames roared back to life along his body, their heat suffusing the room with a renewed brilliance.
The Veinforged stumbled backward, shielding its eyes from the radiant glow. “What… what is this?!” it snarled, confusion and fear lacing its voice.
Asher flexed the golden fingers experimentally, the arm responding as if it had always been part of him. The power coursing through it was unlike anything he had ever felt—boundless, unrelenting, and undeniably divine. He turned his gaze to the Veinforged, his voice low and steady despite the flames crackling around him.
“You wanted to see what a Champion of Aetheros can do?” He raised the golden arm, its runes flaring with light. “Let me show you.”
The Veinforged roared, its slitted eyes narrowing in fury as it lunged. Asher met the charge head-on, his golden arm crashing against the beast’s claws with a resounding BOOM that shook the chamber. Sparks flew, shadows and light clashing violently as the battle began anew.
The Veinforged lashed out with feral desperation, its claws slashing in a relentless frenzy. Each strike carried the weight of its rage, the air shrieking as dark energy crackled along its jagged limbs. But Asher moved like a tempest reborn, his newfound strength propelling him forward with precision and ferocity.
His golden arm surged with divine power as he deflected the first swipe, the impact sending shockwaves rippling through the room. The second claw came faster, aiming for his throat, but Asher ducked low, his flames roaring to life as he spun beneath the blow.
With a sharp upward thrust, he drove his golden fist into the Veinforged’s jaw. The crack of bone and armor shattering echoed like a thunderclap. The force of the strike sent the creature staggering, its towering frame skidding backward, claws tearing gouges in the stone as it struggled to stay upright.
The beast roared in fury, summoning a vortex of corruption around itself. Tendrils of dark magic lashed out like whips, slamming into walls and scattering debris in their wake. “You will burn in my shadow, mortal!” it bellowed, its voice a guttural growl that reverberated through the chamber.
Asher held his ground, his flames rising to meet the swirling darkness. His golden arm glowed brighter, the runes along its surface flaring with an intensity that pierced through the Veinforged’s corruption. He took a single step forward, the heat radiating from him scorching the ground beneath his feet.
“I’ve burned before,” Asher said, his voice cold and sharp, “and I’ve walked through worse than your shadow.”
The Veinforged lunged, but this time Asher was faster. With a burst of Aetheric energy, he closed the distance between them, his golden arm cutting through the air like a blade. He slammed his fist into the beast’s chest, the impact creating a shockwave that cracked the stone beneath them. The Veinforged howled as glowing fissures spread across its torso, streams of molten ichor spilling from the wounds.
The creature retaliated, swinging one massive claw in a wide arc. Asher leapt back, his feet skidding across the fractured floor. He channeled the flames around him into a spiraling wave of fire, hurling it at the Veinforged with a sweep of his hand. The inferno engulfed the beast, the searing heat distorting the air and filling the room with the acrid stench of burning corruption.
But the Veinforged was far from defeated. It burst from the flames, its charred body radiating dark energy as it launched itself at Asher. The force of its charge was monstrous, and Asher barely managed to brace himself before the creature’s claws collided with his golden arm.
The impact sent him sliding back, his boots digging into the stone as he fought to hold his ground. The Veinforged snarled, its jagged teeth bared as it pushed against him, trying to overpower him through sheer force. But Asher met its gaze, unflinching.
“I’m not done,” Asher growled.
With a surge of power, he shoved the Veinforged back, his flames erupting in a blinding flare. The creature stumbled, its dark energy faltering as the golden light bore down on it. Asher didn’t hesitate. He drove forward, each step fueled by the combined strength of Aetheros’ power and his own indomitable will.
He feinted left, then pivoted sharply, planting his foot and unleashing a devastating punch from his golden arm. The blow struck the Veinforged’s core with unrelenting force, the runes on his arm flaring as the divine energy surged into the creature. A burst of light exploded outward, consuming the beast in a radiant conflagration.
The Veinforged staggered, its body wracked with tremors as the cracks along its form widened. Streams of molten ichor poured from its wounds, pooling beneath it as its strength waned. The glow of its eyes flickered, the malevolent light dimming as it let out a final, guttural snarl.
Asher raised his golden arm, his voice steady and unyielding. “This is the end.”
With one final strike, he drove his fist into the Veinforged’s chest, unleashing a surge of Aetheric fire that erupted from within the creature. The light consumed it, the corrupted form crumbling into ash and molten shards that scattered across the ruined chamber.
The room fell silent, save for the faint crackle of lingering flames and the hiss of cooling stone. Asher stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady his breath. The golden arm hummed softly, its glow fading to a gentle shimmer as the flames surrounding him subsided.
“Champion,” Aetheros’ voice echoed in his mind, her tone filled with a mix of relief and stern reproach. “You’re alive… but what is this madness? Why are you with her?”
Asher flexed his golden hand, his expression grim as he turned toward the exit. “Good to hear from you too,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. The weight of exhaustion clawed at him, but the urgency in Aetheros’ voice spurred him onward. “It’s... complicated. I didn’t exactly choose this team-up.”
Aetheros’ tone sharpened, the bond between them thrumming with concern. “Sylthara is a traitor, a servant of the corruption that nearly consumed you. How can you trust her?”
“I don’t,” Asher replied bluntly, his jaw tightening as he pushed through the crumbling remains of the chamber. “But she helped me escape, and right now, she’s my best shot at staying alive—and getting to Vicky and Brynn.”
Silence hung between them for a moment, the connection heavy with unspoken tension. Then, finally: “I will reserve judgment. But tread carefully, Champion. She may yet turn on you.”
“I’m aware,” Asher said, his tone clipped. “But she hasn’t yet, and I don’t plan to give her a reason.”
Asher quickened his pace, his golden arm lighting the way as faint streams of energy coursed along its surface. The air grew cooler, the suffocating weight of corruption easing as he approached the far side of the courtyard where Sylthara had fled. He didn’t allow himself to think of what would happen if she hadn’t made it.
When he rounded the final corner, relief flooded him.
Sylthara stood with her back to Asher, the little girl clinging tightly to her waist. The child’s small frame trembled visibly, her face buried against Sylthara’s side. When she heard his approach, Sylthara turned sharply, her crimson eyes narrowing before they widened slightly at the sight of him.
“You’re alive,” she said, relief flickering in her voice. Her gaze dropped to his glowing, golden arm, the divine energy emanating from it casting faint rays along the fractured walls. “And what in the Void is that?”
Asher rolled his shoulder, testing the strange new limb. It moved smoothly, the intricate patterns of Aetheric runes glowing faintly along its surface. The warmth of its energy coursed through him, a steady pulse that felt almost alive. “A gift from Aetheros,” he said gruffly. “Convenient timing.”
Sylthara’s lips twitched into a wry smile. “You’re full of surprises, Champion.”
He looked down at the little girl, who peeked up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. Her bruised face was a picture of exhaustion and fear, her small hands clutching the fabric of Sylthara’s cloak. Asher softened his expression, crouching low so as not to startle her.
“Hey, kid,” he said gently, his voice softer than Sylthara had ever heard it. “I told you I’d keep you safe, remember? You’re doing great.”
The girl hesitated for a moment before nodding, her lips trembling. “Are the monsters gone?” she whispered.
Asher smiled faintly, though his battered face likely made the gesture more unsettling than comforting. “Yeah, they’re gone. You’re safe now.”
Sylthara cleared her throat, cutting through the moment. “As touching as this reunion is, we need to move. Vorlath’s forces will regroup soon, and they won’t stop until we’re either captured or dead.”
“She’s right,” Aetheros’ voice echoed in Asher’s mind, calm but insistent. “Every second you linger here increases the danger.”
Asher rose to his feet, cradling the girl carefully in his arms. His golden arm hummed softly, the divine energy steady and reassuring. “What’s the plan?”
Sylthara tilted her head toward the distant battlements, the faint outline of Nyxhold’s towering walls visible through the haze of smoke and flickering torchlight. “We head for the southern ramparts. The wards weaken there at night. I’ll need time to open a portal, but it’s our best chance to get out.”
“Fine,” Asher said. He glanced at the girl, then back to Sylthara. “I’ll carry her. You focus on clearing a path.”
Sylthara hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her crimson eyes, before she nodded. “Stay close. I’ll deal with whatever gets in our way.”
Without another word, she turned and darted into the shadows, her twin daggers gleaming faintly in the dim light. Asher followed, his focus razor-sharp as they navigated the winding halls of Nyxhold. Every step was deliberate, every corner a potential ambush.
The tension in the air was palpable, the oppressive weight of corruption pressing down on them as the echoes of alarms faded into an eerie silence. The little girl clung tightly to Asher, her small frame trembling against him. He whispered soothingly to her, keeping his voice low as they pressed forward.
Far from the corrupted halls of Nyxhold, under a storm-choked sky heavy with ash and thunder, the allied encampment buzzed with activity. Soldiers moved with quiet urgency, their faces grim as they prepared for the coming battle. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension crackling like a live wire.
Aetheros stood at the edge of the camp, her radiant form subdued but still casting a faint, calming glow over the troops nearest to her. Her golden eyes scanned the horizon, her divine senses stretching out across the desolate expanse of the Wastes. Kael’Zarath’s forces were drawing closer—less than seven miles now. The faint tremor of their march reverberated through the ground, a relentless drumbeat of approaching doom.
Behind her, Vicky stood with Elara and Malisya, the three women locked in a quiet but intense discussion. The stormy wind tugged at their cloaks, the chill air doing little to cool the fire in their eyes.
“They think they’re hunting us,” Vicky said, her voice low and sharp. Her violet eyes glinted with cold determination. “But they’re walking straight into a trap.”
Suddenly, Vicky’s expression shifted, her gaze unfocusing for a brief moment as Brynn’s voice echoed through the bond. Vicky, the portal is stable. The troops are ready to cross. Just give me a location.
Vicky’s lips pressed into a thin line as she considered her options. Her mind raced, analyzing the terrain and the enemy’s likely movements. Finally, she settled on a plateau to the southwest, its natural elevation offering both cover and a prime vantage point for a flanking maneuver. She projected the image through the bond, her thoughts crisp and deliberate. A mile southwest. It’ll let us flank along the plateau when the time comes. Make sure the army is ready to move fast.
Understood, Brynn replied, her tone steady despite the urgency. We’ll be waiting for your signal.
As the connection faded, Vicky turned back to her companions. “Brynn’s ready. The reinforcements will come in southwest of the plateau. Once Kael’Zarath commits to his assault, we’ll flank and tear his forces apart.”
Elara’s lips curled into a sharp smirk, her lone eye gleaming with anticipation. “A perfect spot for an ambush. We’ll split them right down the middle.”
Malisya hefted her twin blades, the fire-Aether along their edges flickering faintly. “Good. The sooner we turn their ambush into a massacre, the better.”
Before Vicky could respond, Aetheros stiffened, her radiant gaze narrowing as if seeing something far beyond the Wastes. “Asher is attempting to escape Nyxhold,” she said, her voice quiet but taut with urgency.
Vicky’s head snapped toward the goddess, her expression a mix of disbelief and relief. “What? Is he okay?”
Aetheros nodded, though her expression remained troubled. “He is alive and fleeing the stronghold. But...” Her voice tightened, a faint glow pulsing around her as she projected calm. “He’s not alone. Sylthara is with him.”
Elara’s smirk vanished, replaced by a sharp hiss of breath. “Sylthara? The Veinforged traitor? What in the hells is she doing with him?”
“I don’t know,” Aetheros replied, her tone low and tense. “But her presence complicates matters. I cannot maintain a strong connection to him through the corruption in that place. All I know is that they are moving together—for now.”
Vicky’s hand tightened around her sword hilt, her knuckles white. “Then we’ll add another goal to this battle. If Asher’s on the run, we’ll take out Kael’Zarath’s forces and ensure he has a path to escape.”
Aetheros regarded her with a mixture of pride and caution. “He will need you, Vicky. Whatever Sylthara’s motives may be, Asher’s survival—and the survival of this army—remains our priority.”
Vicky nodded sharply, her violet eyes blazing with resolve. “Then let’s make sure we win this.”
An hour later,
The skies above the allied encampment churned with heavy storm clouds, a swirling sea of gray and black that mirrored the tension gripping the troops below. The first faint tremors of Kael’Zarath’s approach vibrated through the ground, growing steadily stronger with each passing moment. Soldiers tightened their grips on shields and weapons, their faces pale but resolute as they awaited the inevitable clash.
Vicky stood at the forefront of the vanguard, her violet eyes scanning the desolate horizon. Beside her, Elara checked her daggers, their edges gleaming faintly with enchanted light, while Malisya’s twin swords flickered with fire-Aether, casting a faint glow against the ash-laden air.
“They’ll be here soon,” Elara muttered, her sharp eye narrowing as she spotted movement in the distance. “Kael’Zarath’s not holding anything back. He’s trying to crush us with numbers.”
Malisya smirked, rolling her shoulders as she twirled one of her blades with an easy grace. “Good. More bodies to burn.”
Behind them, Aetheros stood like a beacon of calm amidst the rising tension. Her radiant form was subdued, but even diminished, the faint aura of divine light she cast was enough to steel the nerves of the soldiers around her. She stepped forward, her golden eyes fixed on the growing enemy force.
“Do not underestimate Kael’Zarath,” Aetheros warned, her voice carrying across the ranks. “He is not a simple brute. His strength lies in his cunning and his ability to exploit chaos. Stay disciplined, stay vigilant.”
The troops straightened at her words, their grip on their weapons tightening. Vicky turned to the ranks behind her, raising her blade high. “Hold the line!” she commanded, her voice cutting through the murmur of the crowd like steel. “Today, we don’t fight for survival—we fight to win! For Asher! For Aetheros! For the world!”
A resounding roar erupted from the ranks, shields banging against armor, weapons raised in defiance. The soldiers braced themselves, their formation tightening as the first figures of the Veinforged army came into view.
The Veinforged surged forward like a black tide, their jagged forms bristling with weapons and malice. Hulking siege beasts lumbered at the rear, their monstrous frames clad in blackened iron, while smaller Veinforged units moved with terrifying precision, their crimson eyes glowing in the dim light.
The moment they reached the allied line, chaos erupted.
The Veinforged slammed into the front ranks with bone-rattling force, their snarls and screams mingling with the clash of steel. Soldiers held firm, their shields locking together as spears thrust through the gaps, finding soft flesh amid the twisted metal of their foes.
Vicky charged into the fray, her blade a blur as she carved through the first wave of Veinforged. Her movements were swift and deliberate, each strike calculated to cripple or kill. Beside her, Elara danced through the chaos, her daggers finding the weak points in the Veinforged armor with unerring precision. Blood and black ichor sprayed in arcs as she struck again and again, her lone eye burning with fierce determination.
Malisya was a whirlwind of flame and steel, her twin swords leaving trails of fire in their wake as she cleaved through enemy ranks. Each swing of her blades ignited the twisted forms of the Veinforged, their screams of agony rising above the cacophony of battle. She laughed as she fought, the sound fierce and wild, her fiery aura making her a beacon of destruction amidst the chaos.
“Focus on the siege beasts!” Vicky shouted, her voice carrying over the din. “If they break through, we’re done!”
Malisya grinned savagely, already charging toward one of the massive war machines. “On it!” she called back, her blades blazing brighter as she leapt onto the nearest siege beast.
The hulking creature roared, its spiked tail whipping toward her. Malisya dodged the strike with inches to spare, her swords carving deep into its armored hide. Fire erupted from the wounds, and the beast howled in agony, thrashing wildly as it tried to shake her off.
Vicky and Elara fought to clear a path, their blades cutting down the Veinforged swarming to protect the siege machines. The battlefield became a blur of blood and flame, every step forward contested with brutal ferocity.
“Malisya, watch out!” Vicky shouted, her voice sharp with warning as a shadow fell across the battlefield.
Kael’Zarath had arrived.
The general of the Veinforged loomed like a figure of nightmare, his obsidian armor glinting with an unnatural sheen. Massive, blackened wings unfurled from his back, blotting out the dim light of the storm-choked sky. Crimson runes pulsed along the surface of his armor, their malevolent glow mirrored in the blade of his colossal scythe, which writhed with shadowy energy.
Malisya turned to face him, her fiery grin unwavering. “Finally,” she growled, flames licking along her swords as she hefted them. “I was starting to think you’d never show up.”
Kael’Zarath’s voice boomed like a thunderclap, his tone a cruel blend of amusement and disdain. “You think yourself worthy of my attention, little flame? You will burn out like the rest.”
“Let’s test that,” Malisya snapped, charging toward him with reckless determination.
Vicky screamed, “Malisya, no!” but her voice was lost in the chaos of battle.
Kael’Zarath moved with terrifying speed, his wings propelling him forward as his scythe swept in a deadly arc. Malisya met him head-on, her blades clashing against his weapon in a shower of sparks. The impact sent shockwaves rippling through the battlefield, forcing nearby combatants—Veinforged and allies alike—to stumble and shield their eyes.
The two warriors clashed again and again, their weapons a blur of fire and shadow. Malisya’s strikes were relentless, each swing of her swords trailing flames as she aimed for the gaps in Kael’Zarath’s armor. She ducked under a sweep of his scythe, her blades carving into his side. Fire erupted from the wounds, but the general barely flinched, his crimson eyes gleaming with malice.
“Is that all you have?” Kael’Zarath sneered, bringing his scythe down with brutal force.
Malisya rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow. Her strikes grew more desperate, her movements more frantic as the sheer weight of Kael’Zarath’s power bore down on her.
Vicky and Elara fought to reach her, cutting through the Veinforged that surged to block their path. “Malisya, fall back!” Vicky shouted, panic creeping into her voice.
But Malisya didn’t retreat. She lunged forward, her swords blazing as she aimed for Kael’Zarath’s throat.
It was her last mistake.
Kael’Zarath’s scythe moved faster than Malisya could react. The blade sliced through her armor and into her chest, the force of the strike staggering her. Blood spilled from the wound as her swords fell from her hands, their flames extinguishing as she crumpled to her knees.
Time seemed to slow as Malisya looked up at Kael’Zarath, defiance flickering in her fiery gaze even as the life drained from her.
“No!” Vicky’s scream tore through the battlefield, raw and filled with anguish.
Kael’Zarath raised his scythe high, shadowy energy coiling around the blade like a serpent. His voice was cold and final as he intoned, “Burn in the darkness.”
The scythe came down with brutal finality, cleaving through Malisya’s body in a spray of blood and fire. Her lifeless form collapsed to the ground, her fierce grin replaced by haunting stillness.
Vicky froze, her breath catching in her throat as the world seemed to fall silent. Elara placed a hand on her arm, her own face pale with shock, but Vicky shook it off.
Her violet eyes burned with fury, locking onto Kael’Zarath as he turned his gaze toward her, his expression one of cruel satisfaction.
“Malisya,” Vicky whispered, her voice trembling with grief. Her hand tightened around her blade, her knuckles white.
Kael’Zarath pointed his scythe at her, his voice a taunt that echoed across the battlefield. “Come, queen. Join her in the void.”
And then Vicky charged.