Walking slightly hunched over, I cautiously tread the bloodstained hallway. Before long, I notice that the piled up bodies are sunken and flattened.

With equal parts wonder and horror, I can see that none of them have bones. Whatever forces allow the undead to raise more of their brethren, it proves chilling to say the least.

But my solitary branch is silent. I reach the intersection where the quiet female is waiting, watching the short remaining stretch.

With nothing to do until Michael catches up, I try to make small talk with the mercenary. I sit against a wall that doesn't have deal people skin piled up against it.

"So what's your name? I'm Ventra."

"Carst, Lieutenant."

"You know of my position?"

"Of course, Lieutenant. I had heard rumours of the Lancer General wanting to meet with the mysterious soul user. Those called to meet him are promoted, and since the first Lieutenant died last month, I made the connection. For what it's worth, ma'am, I can see he made a good choice. I only know of two people aside from that Lancer himself who could stand up to a Wraith Lord."

I smile in spite of the subtle brown-nosing. This woman is smart enough to figure out who I am, and I strong enough to hold off a monster I struggle to kill. I like her.

"Don't sell yourself short, Carst. Most would have, and did fall immediately against such a foe. You are impressive in your own right."

Carst seems stunned by the compliment and her body language shifts from stoic to unsteady. But she readies herself again and clears her throat before finding her voice.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Michael turns his corner, looking slightly worse for wear.

"Did either of you have any issues?"

I reluctantly stand up from my sitting position. Both Carst and I shake our heads. Michael sighs tiredly.

"Me neither. You think that was it, maybe?"

I look disapprovingly at him. He's understandably tired, but I expect him to have more discipline. He's a mercenary for Senca's sake.

"There were thousands earlier today. I doubt the Wraith Lord even came in with many considering everyone we've passed has been used to summon another skeleton. This place is probably surrounded, so we have to scope out the situation. This is war, Michael. Man up."

He looks hurt, but it was absolutely necessary to do that. This situation is too risky for me to have any slackers.

At least Carst approves. Her slight smile is all the confirmation I need.

I lead the march down the final stretch if corridor. I can see golden light at the end of the dimly lit hallway. The lights in this part are damaged in some way. The ceiling is cracked, which is probably causing the lights to not function properly.

The heavy metal doors leading outside are open just a crack. I try pushing on them, but I fail to make them move. I try bracing my shoulder against the metal slab instead and push with my entire body, but that approach is no more effective, and certainly hurts more.

Gingerly, I then to look back at my followers who I know each has a body stat multiple times higher than my own.

"Can you guys help me with the door?"

Without hesitation, and thankfully without any complaint, Michael walks forwards and opens the door with a single one-handed push. I can now fully appreciate the super-human powers that are accessible to me now. Michael would probably be stronger than the strongest men back on earth with a fraction of the muscle mass.

I nod at him appreciatively and stare out of the base at the surrounding woodland. Or, what used to be woodland.

The admittedly sparse forest is gone as far as I can see. Every tree has been hacked from its base and is gone. Only miles and miles of brutalized treestumps now surround the base. And covering what used to be the forest is more than a horde. More than an army. A very force of nature stands at rest around the base. A sea of white only broken up by tree stumps or the darker coloured and higher ranked undead.

Tens of the undead thralls, hundreds of what must be zombies, and countless basic skeletons. Many have their basic bows drawn and aimed at us.

Far in the distance, I can even see a few huge lumbering masses greyed and faded due to the distance.

This was never an extermination on our side. It would even be laughable to call this a war. The undead were always going to slaughter us. For whatever reason, we underestimated their numbers or were missing some critical piece of prior Intel. Whatever it was, we never had a chance.

I wait for death to come, certain that at any second, the hundreds of arrows will be loosed, and I'll meet a swift end.

But it doesn't come.

Looking out at the skeletons I can identify at this distance, they're completely motionless.

I can hear how fast my breathing has become. On either side of me are my allies. Michaels face it is frozen in silent fear. His breaths are shaking and unsteady.

Carst, on the other hand, appears outwardly calm. In her eyes though, I can see something resembling sadness. But as the seconds tick by, she visibly becomes more confused.

"Why aren't they attacking."

With the absence of any Wraith lords, I come to only one conclusion.

"Nothing is ordering them to. Are they... waiting?"

As confidently as I can, I walk towards the waiting sea of bones and take a closer look at the skeletons on the front line.

"Wait, Ventra-"

Michael objects, but I half turn and wave my free hand to shut him up.

"Shhhhhhhh. I want to know what's happening. If they're not moving, we're safe."

I push my face right up to the white expressionless skull nearest to me. I can almost feel the tension in the air as we stare each other down.

An intense pressure falls over me, and I stumble back a few steps, stooped over. Sounds of struggle behind me tell me that Michael and Carst are being affected by the increased gravity too.

The pressure increases and I fall onto my knees, barely able to keep myself from slamming into the ground. With higher body stats, the others are probably doing better, but there's no way this force isn't affecting them.

It reaches a point where I'm forced flat on the ground, and I can hear my significantly stronger allies falling too.

For a few seconds, I'm unable to breathe and begin to panic that I would die from being crushed before the pressure lessens all of a sudden. I try to get back up, but something stops me from moving upwards at all. There's no downwards force unless I try to act against it. An effective prison.

I look around as much as I can with my very limited scope and can barely see the top of Michaels helmet behind me. Ahead of me is the skeleton army, still completely motionless. If only my hair hadn't covered my face as I fell, I would be able to make out so much more of my surroundings. Even the perception I would gain from my helmet is suppressed.

I open my mouth to try and criticize this trap that I assume is one defending the base, but am unable to say anything. My vocal cords feel frozen. Even breathing heavily produces no noise aside from the shifting air.

What I can hear instead is a clattering of scraping bones that send a shiver down my spine. This is not the sound of a marching army, but of a parting sea of bones.

I can just about make out a path that has been made directly ahead of me by the foot soldiers quietly shifting sideways. As soon as they've moved, the skeletons go back to being little more than spooky statues.

The sound of soft footsteps in the remnants of the forest floor approach slowly. Eventually, I catch the corner of a flowing dark green robe before me.

Although, it certainly seems like I'm lying before them. I know I have no advantages here.

"Hmm. You are not who I expected."

A male voice. Young, but older than Michael, most likely. Someone still in his twenties but who has far more confidence in themselves than they should. All it took was one sentence for that to be obvious.

I try to spew obscenities at whoever is trapping me but only manage to flap my mouth open and closed aggressively.

The green-robed individual laughs arrogantly.

"Oh, having a little trouble speaking there? Let me help you with that."

"-and I'll shove it up your fucking ar-"

I'm cut off almost as soon as I'm allowed to speak.

More unpleasant chuckling drips down onto me.

"Well you are certainly not the Lancer General, nor do I think you are his lovely wife. Your body seems... inferior to what I have heard. And only a single sword, you are certainly not her."

From that alone, Michael or Carst might have pieced together the secret that Declan and Mary tried to hide. Though relationships within the mercenary rankings might fall quite low in the emergency rankings.

For now, the issue is whoever is standing in front if me, because I'm certain they are controlling the skeletons.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He crouches down closer to me, then kneels just above my head and softly pushes my hair back and tucks it into my helmet.

I'm surprised at both the softness that's being displayed and by the face of the asshole that's somehow holding me down.

He's... beautiful. His skin may be paler than I would prefer, but he has a solid chin and cheekbones I could cut myself on. A slight shade of stubble, and dark eyes that match his coal-black hair that runs long and spills from his scalp in cascades.

"Though you are something else. You killed the Wraith Lord, didn't you? Your defiance, the very way your soul struggles against my hold. You may not lead the sheep, but you should."

My mind flashes guiltily to Michael. I so quickly fell to the appearance of another when Michael and I are... kind of together.

"Such a pretty thing too. You could become a queen, I'm certain. Demolish the system of lords and ladies that plagues the land, and sit there."

While his words are sweet, they hide a venom. Hypnotising. But I've been there. Ruling isn't for me. Leading is where it's at.

"But you don't want it. You are a fighter... You were the one to disrupt my ambush this morning, weren't you?"

He smiles, and despite how it makes his appearance all the more dazzling, I can see danger behind it.

"Tell me, young lady, what is the name of the one who might best whatever is thrown at her?"

I try to speak again and am pleasantly surprised that I can make noises. I expected it to be a rhetorical question and he would already know the answer.

"I'm no one. I have no name."

"Interesting. Word of the wind is that you hail from the family of Cass. Though I'm not sure if you know this, such a family does not exist. A being of no name and incredible power, now that is more interesting than a liar."

"Who are you?"

"Ah. A good question, lady of no name. Much like you, I remain nameless, but that is by choice rather than by ignorance."

"Wait! What do you mean? What do you know about me?"

Excitement threads into my words from my very soul. This man speaks of me as if he knows my past. He spoke about my soul like he can see it.

"Nothing. Nothing that matters, at least. Just what my... informants say. I can guess though from the way your soul flows that you don't know of your own origins. But... it will not tell me anything else. Something so powerful, yet so... lacklustre."

Shit. Useless.

I take a slow breath. Of course, he doesn't know about me. I'm from earth, and this world probably has no knowledge of it at all.

"So what do you want?"

"There's the most important question. I want what anyone wants from mercenaries."

"And? What is that?"

"My dear, to not even know what one would want from you, yet you would accept anyway. How noble. But I merely want help."

I open my mouth to reply again, but this asshole has prevented my ability to speak again. I don't see any way that he could do it, but he can. Effortlessly.

"Before you say that you would help me, I won't allow such a lecture to begin. You see, I don't want you, I just want what you have. The help I will take in the form of bodies and materials."

Asshole. Misleading me just to take the piss.

"Now, I'm sure you have questions, but the wind whispers to me. The waves of battle have stilled. Yet... I am not the victor. Hmm. No matter, that's why back up plans exist. Get up."

I'm lifted immediately like a marionette by its strings. My sword goes flying to my side, and I'm left suspended by my wrists, elbows and shoulders.

"Now this is a surprise."

He lifts the back of my trench coat slightly to expose my wings.

"Wings of gold. A legendary achievement. You will be a perfect addition to my ranks. Maybe your soul will birth a new variant. The possibilities are tantalising. But for this to work, we shall have none of this."

With slow motions, he unstraps my helmet from my head and breaks it with one hand.

"The pesky failsafes built into you are the last thing I would want to have to kill you over."

While he's close, I try to kick him with both my feet in an attempt to break his focus. But before I can make contact, his hand instantly makes a grasping shape and my feet are stuck in place.

"Naughty."

With a smirk, he squeezes the invisible grasp and both my ankles are crushed beyond the point of healing.

-51hp

I scream silently at the sky as pain radiates from my legs. I thrash against my invisible restraints as hard as my weak body allows, trying to do something. Anything to stop the pain.

"Oh, now, we don't want this, do we?"

Even through the pain, I can hear him spewing condescending shit from his perfect face.

Through tears, I see him make another grasping motion, and my slowly swaying body is stilled. I can feel a slight pressure on my spine, and with a silent cry of anguish and pain, I shake my head. Pleading for him to stop.

But he merely tilts his head and jerks his hand violently over.

A crack fills my ear, but this one is deeper, much more important than any other.

-106hp

Paralysed (--:--)

[!spine must be realigned before repair!]

My perception of my body below my waist is gone immediately. For the second time today, my spine is broken, but it won't heal so quickly this time.

Mercifully, the pain from my shattered legs is gone. But it is a small mercy in the face of what has been done to me.

Looking down, my legs hang limply with my feet swaying in the breeze, little more than skin holding them on.

My beautiful wings hang just behind them, the tips trailing in the dirt.

"Aww. Not so powerful without your legs, huh? Now, let's go get your boss out here."

I hang my head in defeat as I'm lead back into the white masses, leaving Michael and Carst behind.

"You know, I never asked who those two followers of yours are. Not that it matters. They're already dead."

What!?

I look up in shock and try to look behind me, but we're already too far away, and there are skeletons filling the gap left behind us.

"The gravity was too much for them. They were dead long before I even broke your legs."

The mage orchestrating all this laughs softly. It sounds genuine, but that makes it all the scarier.

Michael.

I don't cry for him or Carst. I liked them both, even for the very short time I knew them. Heck, I liked Michael enough that I would try to start something with him. He obviously fell for me.

I'm tired of this life already. It started out so well, but in a few very short hours, everything changed.

Speaking of which, and in a desperate grab to distract myself, I try to take scope of the surrounding area.

It's nearly night. The setting sun is making the bleached white bones of the skeleton appear orange and yellow. It's a nice effect. It reminds me if a field of flowers interjected by darker spots where a thrall or zombie waits.

Whatever this mage plans to use me for, I want none of it. He spoke of using me as a bargaining piece. But the mercenaries don't need me like he thinks they do. They don't even know me.

Whatever he does when it's revealed they won't give in to him for me, I don't want to be alive for it. But I'm stuck in a T-pose for the foreseeable future with no way to harm or even propel myself even if I got free.

I give up.

----------------------------------------

Or not.

Just as I'm giving up, my outstretched hand brushes against something it shouldn't.

Tree bark.

The sensation is unmistakable, but as far as I can see, there are no tree stumps even close to the height of my hands. I look closer at the stumps that we pass when the shifting bodies reveal them. All are now beyond my reach, but I know I felt one when I didn't see it.

All the pieces I've noticed click together.

The skeleton army far, far larger than it should be.

The trees that have disappeared without a trace, allowing the army to be displayed better.

The motionless way in which every single skeleton reacts. And why the near infinite army doesn't just charge in.

The too-perfect face of my captor.

I'm certain, this is an illusion. A huge one, but an illusion nonetheless. I smile, becoming more certain by the second. This mage might be immensely powerful, but I'm willing to bet that the Wraith lords and handful of skeletons he sent in were all his remaining forces.

He might be strong enough to push three mercenaries to the ground hard enough to be able to kill them, but what can he do against a hundred.

I have a plan. It's small, but while I can't speak or move, it's all I have.

While my lower body is broken and my upper body is mostly suspended tightly, my fingers are free, and my palms are facing forwards.

----------------------------------------

I'm carried by the mage halfway around the mercenary base at a fairly large distance. I'm guessing he doesn't want to risk being seen.

As we reach the opposite end of the base from where we started, the illusionist starts to make orbs of bright blue grow from nothing in his hands. He throws them up into the air, and they hang around me. Illuminating the twilight, making the fake skeletons appear almost spectral.

Before long, I'm illuminated like a beacon. It would be clear to anyone that I'm a hostage now.

I can see that at the nearest entrance to the base, two huge barriers are illuminating the area and a lone hooded figure standing just outside the shut doors.

The illusionist stands almost directly opposite the hooded figure, but slightly off to the side. All the blue lights that surround me followed him and he is lit up, while I am hung further back, hidden in shadows.

"LANCER! YOU ARE THE FINAL OBSTACLE! SURRENDER AND I WILL LET YOU AND YOURS ESCAPE!"

The figure drops his hood, and I'm not surprised that it's Declan. It's difficult to see from the distance and through the rapidly darkening landscape, but Declan looks pissed. I would be too.

Everything that Declan has spent the best part if his life building has been torn apart by this one infuriating mage. His wife has been injured, and I suspect his friends are either dead or equally hurt.

"YOU WON'T LET ANYONE LIVE, AND I KNOW THAT! BUT THIS ARMY IS FODDER TO ME. I NOTICE A DISTINCT LACK OF ANY MORE WRAITHS!"

I hear an audible intake of frustration from the illusionist. I have to question why he didn't even pretend to make any Wraith Lords, but its acting to his disadvantage.

"I HAVE ENOUGH HERE TO KILL YOU, AND TO MAKE SURE YOU STAY DEAD!"

it's an empty threat. I know it, the illusionist knows it, and if I have anything to do with it, Declan's going to know it too.

"BUT YOU KNOW ME, DON'T YOU, LANCER! YOU KNOW THAT'SNOT MY STYLE!"

"LET ME GUESS! YOU HAVE ANOTHER BOMB?!"

The illusionist starts to laugh loudly enough that it echoes. 

"YOU MAY KNOW ME, LANCER, BUT THIS BOMB IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK IT IS!"

I'm slowly brought forwards, the fake skeletons ahead of me moving out of the way until I'm far enough into the light that my battered body is fully illuminated.

Declan's face twists into a tortured one. I don't know what this mage means by me being a bomb, but Declan seems to.

there's a sharp stabbing in my neck, and I turn my head slightly to see the mage sticking a multi-pointed node into the crook of my neck. there's a glass orb on the end of it that fills with a golden light. then tendrils of darkness begin to infiltrate the swirling gold. the same image I can see taking place on my shoulder, I can feel it taking place deep within me. my energy feels impure. it feels wrong. angry, almost.

"my lady, you may not know what this is, but you won't like it. your monstrous soul will be the fuel to this bomb. the energy within you will destroy this wretched band of savages. and I will be far, far away by the time you go off."

this is problematic. the skeleton army might be fake, but the thing making me into a bomb is very real.

"VENTRA!"

"speak to your leader, my little explosive."

"uh..."

I try to think desperately about what I can say to get Declan my message without letting the mage know. I'm certain that he isn't actually here, and it's only another illusion of his that I can see. I'm guessing it was just a real skeleton minion of his that actually attached the bomb to me. theres no way he would risk being even close to it. so there wouldn't be any consequences to him if he were to blow me up. but there would be consequences to me. I don't want the rest of the mercenaries to die. 

"SIR, IM SORRY I CAUSED YOU SO MUCH TROUBLE. THIS BOMB IS VERY REAL, SO I CANT DO ANYTHING BESIDES WAIT, BUT... THE ARMY BEHIND ME IS OUT OF MY HANDS."

I emphasize "hands" at the same time as I unclasp my hand that is furthest from the illusionist. on my palm is a crudely carved eye. over the last five minutes of transit, I've been using my nails to tear my skin deep enough to draw blood and make the symbol of the illusion school on my hand. 

declan looks at my hands, and then out at the army surrounding him. there's no indication of understanding on his face, but I can only trust that he gets it.

"SIR. THERE'S SOMETHING I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU WHEN WE MET. IM... A REALLY CRAP HOSTAGE."

he smiles at me, and I can hear the illusionist laughing softly too. they must both think its a joke, but in a life or death situation where I'm a key bargaining piece, I will always choose to die to remove the threat. and the only method I have left is my spells.

I aim all my fingers towards my chest, trying to aim closer to my heart. I shut my eyes and ignore any further conversation. the energy that I felt moving when I charged the mind swords, I force into action again. I pull the energy through my arms, into my hands, and focus it in my fingertips. my hands tingle with the increasing concentration of unused energy, and my fingers outright burn.

sharp. Sharp. SHARP!

"SHARP!"

multiple spells cast (8) 

-160mp

the energy leaves my fingertips, and there's a bright blue flash behind my shut eyes. I don't feel anything, but a small chain of messages in my eyes tell me I've been successful.

-197hp (critical damage sustained) 

[WARNING! high damage has been dealt to self.]

-62hp 

-8hp

[YOU HAVE DIED]

----------------------------------------

back in the all too familiar darkness, I can only hope that my sacrifice will solve part of the issue that plagued the mercenaries.

it will likely be a long time before I find my way there again, but I hope the base will still be standing when I get back.

 Death Count: 1001

woohoo

If I could raise a glass, I would.

To many more deaths ahead.