Once again, Isil sat on the throne, speaking to the people of Fallen Crescent. She told them most of what she learned, save of the two gifts Belleb had given her, and the truth of why she remained. Perhaps she would tell them of the two gifts later, if questions arose. The truth, however, would remain a secret, something she would never speak a word of.

“… This is what Belleb’s avatar left behind for us.” Isil held up the wooden shard, letting the crowd see it. “It is one of the eleven pieces in total that are here on Kalixkto. These pieces have the ability to sense the location of the others, and it is my conjecture that the more we gather and combine, the more precise they get. From my initial reading, it seems that there are three on Tyverra – not including this one – one in the Icelands, one on Gomggoth, two in the Delta Islands, and three on Segoe.

“I will select team leaders tomorrow. For now, everyone should get acquainted with the look and feel of this fragment. In the meantime, I will need to prepare as well. I will not sit by while something that can kill divines searches for the same thing we are.” Isil stated.

“My lady, you must not risk yourself like this!” A loud complaint arose from Likan, who stood next to her. “If these legions are truly as powerful as you say they are, then we cannot risk endangering you. You should stay in the tower, where it’s safer!”

“Safe?” Isil scoffed. “And everyone who disappeared when they slew the divines, were they not as safe as I? What manner of protection can us mortals conjure to defend ourselves against such beings? I am no more safe wandering the hills than I am barricading myself in my room. Nay, am I even more safe, for the tower cannot hide nor evade. My decision is final, it is useless to try and dissuade me.”

“But, my lady...” Likan struggled to raise protest.

“What could you possibly hope to protect me with, hmm? The wards of the tower? What use were they in protecting our comrades? Our own abilities are meaningless in front of these legions, do you not understand that? It is not shameful to admit our own weakness, but it is foolish to deceive yourself into thinking we’re invincible.” Isil spoke in a strong tone, barely keeping from shouting.

“As… as you wish.” Likan said, his spirit visibly dampened.

“Good,” Isil rose from the throne. “If anyone has any complaints, let them be heard. Otherwise, this meeting is adjourned!’

Isil waited for a few moments until people began to exit the room. She nodded to herself, then turned around and left through the back door. She massaged her neck lightly, the explanation, combined with speaking loudly, had left her throat a little sore. Instead of taking the magic elevator, she took the stairs, letting the climb calm her nerves.

She rubbed her trembling hands together, a little bit of lingering fear from her decision remaining. The entire flight back, Isil dreaded making the speech on what she found. However, she believed her choice was the correct one. It did not seem like an unexpected action, as Isil had had a long history in exploration and getting things done herself. Paperwork could also be left to non-combatants she could trust.

As she reached her office, Isil began to think of just who to appoint to what groups. She sighed as she realized the great task of making the most efficient groups before the day was done.

-_-_-

Labored breathing, unearthly cries, the roar of an uncontrolled fire.

Those sounds were the loudest in her ears. The city of Yggdrasil was burning, even the great magic tree grown from the sapling of the original World Tree was set alight. Another corpse grabbed at her feet, but an instinctual cast of a Mana Blade cut its core before it could sink its teeth into her leg. She shook free of the corpse’s grasp and continued on her way. With such aggressive necromancy, the necromancer had to be nearby.

Another shambling zombie blocked her way, clad in iron armor. A simple Heartstrike ended its torment. As she ran past, she pushed the sword out from its grip and took hold of the handle. Doubtless, it would be of little use in her hands, but she wanted to plunge the sword into the vile heart of the necromancer herself. Magic would not suffice – she hand to end the bastard with her own two hands.

She dived to the side as the supporting beams of a house caused it to collapse onto the street. There goes her straight shot…

Once again, she opened her senses to feel the congregation of vile mana that belonged to the necromancer. Too far. Many more would fall to the miasma before she reached him. She gritted her teeth and took to the air once more, the skeletal wyverns already taking notice of her. She immediately flew off towards the necromancer at her fastest speed. More and more of the necromancer’s wyverns appearing from the smoke clouds rising above the city.

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Breaths of poisonous magic spewed from the mouth of the closest wyvern, only a quick cast of Blink saved her life, putting her a few meters away from the breath. She dropped from the sky, casting Negate Impact, then instantly concealing her mana. Though the skeletal wyverns were powerful, they lacked proper sight. Instead, they had to rely on the scent of her mana. It was much like what she used to detect the necromancer, only more bestial in nature.

The impact from the fall reduced to near nothing, but traveled through her entire body, causing a brief moment of intense nausea. She stumbled away from her spell’s effective zone, knowing the wyverns would breath poison over any place that had her lingering mana. With the enchantment from her ring granting her a small physical boost, she was able to cover some distance before the wyverns attacked. Thankfully, they had missed her position and gone for Negate Impact’s effective zone.

Unfortunately, she was now being surrounded by more of the necromancer’s thralls. Surprised by the amount of skeletons present, she realized the necromancer must have brought some of their back-up thralls. With her mana concealed, the skeletal thralls could not see her. However, the zombies converged on her instead. She silently cursed, realizing how quickly the situation was turning sour.

Her skills with the sword were pitiful, and she knew it. Her only hope was to run by them before they could form a tight enough circle. She broke off into a sprint in a certain direction, quickly determining a course of action. She could not perform any fancy moves to stab the zombie’s core, nor could she really decapitate the thrall without getting entangled in its arms. She opted to instead slice through the legs and continue past.

She ducked down as she closed in on her target. She brought the sword to her left, then violently swung it, drawing on all the power of her enchanted items. The sword cut through the zombie’s right leg, but stuck in its left. A moment of panic caused her to backpedal instead of moving forward. The zombie fell forward, but it was already too late. The other zombies had gotten close enough to grab her if she tried to run through.

Sweat dripped down her forehead as she looked towards the sky, searching for the skeletal wyverns. Though some had disappeared into the clouds, many still flew above, gliding through the air with their vile mana. She had no choice. The earth rumbled as she pushed the zombies away with an Earth Circle. She didn’t spare a glance at the other skeletons that were suddenly alerted to her.

She cast Wild Wind, using it as a movement spell instead of as a defensive shell. She sped off down the street, the high concentration of the necromancer’s vile mana causing her to choke. As she approached the turn, she killed the spell, then cast it again in front of her, killing her momentum. She didn’t bother boosting herself forward, she could already see the necromancer.

“Eyes up, necrophiliac!” She screamed, a Radiant Lance taking form in her hand.

She took her aim, ignoring the congregation of vile mana that were the wyverns to her left. Eight bodies floated in the air around the necromancer, blood flowing from an open neck wound on all of them. The blood flowed to a much larger conglomeration of blood that floated directly above the necromancer. She didn’t recognize whatever ritual he was conducting, but her mana sense told her that the blood ball was the center of the ritual.

She raised the Lance slightly higher, targeting the blood ball instead of the necromancer. She cocked her arm back, and threw it forward, the motion mostly unnecessary due to the magic propelling its flight. Knowing that the Lance would hit, she turned to face the undead horde, and immediately threw up a Master Ward. The combined poison breaths hit her first, her ward nearly failing already.

She poured more mana into the spell, knowing it wouldn’t last much longer without it. As the poisonous gases finally began to clear, she only saw the large bones of some sort of troll before she was thrown into the air. She managed to come up with a plan in a split second, another Radiant Lance taking shape. She saw the screaming necromancer, his skin sizzling from contact with the magic-imbibed blood. She filled the Lance with her mana, overcharging it without making it too volatile.

She threw it, the excess mana making it seem like the Lance was elongating in flight. An explosion of light erupted from the necromancer as the Lance pierced through his body. She quickly covered her face with her arms, but was unable to avoid the force of the explosion. She was thrown higher into the sky, and further away. She crashed directly into a skeletal wyvern, its jagged teeth impaling her in multiple places. She tried to cry out, but all that came out was a breathless gasp.

She could not longer feel her arms. Her sustained injuries were finally catching up to her, making her light-headed and tired. Being impaled on the wyvern was only the last straw. With the necromancer dead, the undead could no longer continue. As proof of that, she hadn’t been chewed up by the wyvern. However, it was likely she wouldn’t be walking away from this one. She was already losing her grip on her consciousness.

“I… don’t want.. to die...” In her muddled state, that was all she could say, before the pressing darkness of unconsciousness came upon her.

Isil awoke with a start, cold sweat causing her clothes to stick to her body. She clutched her chest, the pounding of her heart almost deafening in her ears. She looked around, not quite sure what she was looking for.

“… Another one? Goddamn…” Isil rubbed her face, massaging her tense muscles. “More of a nightmare than a dream this time.”

“Bed must be fucking cursed...”

-_-_-

The next day went by quickly. Isil gave assignments to each team leader individually, having learnt a lesson about not shouting for extended periods of time. She also delegated a few to doing the paperwork she was supposed to be handling. She didn’t bother giving any speeches, as some teams had left as soon as they got their orders. She simply told them to leave by the end of the day.

She also advised them not to stay away from the tower until their mission was over. They were always allowed to return to Dirak-Feûr if they ever needed. As such, she gave each team leader enough teleport stones for them and their team. Teleport stones were rocks that had a magic spell prepared on it through the use of runes of magic formations. They were technically spell stones, but were generally referred to as “teleport stones” due to their unique usefulness.

Isil left in the middle of the day, having said her goodbyes to many in the tower. She kept them as formal and as short as she could, not knowing when one of the members might suddenly launch into small talk and keep her from leaving. She truly did want to remain in the tower, were luxuries abound, however, she was still afraid. She knew that, sooner or later, her facade would slip and Fallen Crescent would discover that she was not the guildmaster they knew and loved.

Isil looked back as she left, now far enough away so that the tower seemed to be just a long black pole. She clenched her fist as guilt welled up in her heart. She knew she had replaced someone the entire guild held dear. If she was in their situation, she would much rather the imposter be dead than apologetic. There was no way she could remain here, despite how much she liked the place.

Too many apologies. Too many frightful possibilities. Just enough ways to die.

“I’m sorry...” Isil whispered, and turned her back on the tower, striding forward, away from the setting sun.

The hunt for the Legions’ Shards had begun.