There was nothing. Then there was light. Then there were feelings Artemisia thought she would never feel again: the ground beneath her feet, the howling of battle, the acrid smell of blood and smoke on the wind.
Artemisia’s eyes snapped open. She was still on the battlefield; the goblin was now lying dead at her feet, barely recognizable as such. It looked like it’d been burned from the inside out.
Artemisia stepped back, the broken and blood-splattered cobblestones crackling beneath her feet. A bright, tingling warmth filled Artemisia’s chest, and she looked down to see that her amulet was glowing so brightly that it was visible even through her clothes. Her breath caught in her throat.
A heartmeld!
Heartmelds were the rarest of magical artifacts. Their creation could only be facilitated by the death of their creator, but with that act they created an object capable of allowing its wearer to cheat death.
And containing more than enough magic to break the star mesh, she realized.
Artemisia sprinted back towards the castle. The wall she’d been thrown into had crumbled into shrapnel, and she clambered over it and into the courtyard.
“Neith!” she shouted.
There was a faint “poof!” nearby, and Neith appeared in front of Artemisia. Artemisia held up the amulet.
“I think I found a way to break the star mesh.”
Neith gave her a confused look.
“It’s a heartmeld.”
Neith’s confusion gave way to surprise, then glee. She grinned. “So if we can set it off near the mesh-”
“-we should be able to tear through it,” Artemisia finished. She tossed Neith the amulet, and Neith transformed back into a bat.
“Go! I’ll hold them off!” Artemisia shouted.
Neith blended seamlessly into the night, vanishing from sight with only the faint twinkle of the amulet giving away her location. Artemisia drew her sword just as the ground shuddered. She grabbed a nearby column, feeling the stone crack and shift under the force of the quake. It felt like the world itself was shaking apart from the force of the battle.
The ground nearby erupted, sending several buildings crumbling into piles of rubble. A massive drill emerged from the ground, collapsing to the side to reveal that it was just the front part of a massive tank-like device. Its sides dropped open, and Flinters began emerging in ragged streams. They joined the fray with shouts and screams that made Artemisia’s teeth hurt.
“For Lorelei!” a creature that looked halfway between bat and human shrieked. A few other, similar creatures echoed the cry.
Another calamity rose at the edge of the battlefield, and the thunderous sound of a stolen cannon immediately informed Artemisia who was causing it. The ragged cheers of the rest of the Bandits only confirmed her suspicions.
Artemisia raised her sword and charged back into battle.
The world became a blur of clashing metal and whirling attacks. Artemisia quickly familiarized herself with each attack - the itching feeling in the pit of her stomach that dark magic created meant to duck, the whistling of an arrow meant to dive, the whir of a sword meant to raise her own in a counterstrike - and the battle swiftly became little more than a complicated, deadly dance.
A sudden burst of color filled the sky. The entire battlefield froze, many of its combatants looking up in awe and horror as the star mesh burst into flames, starlight beginning to trickle through. As the fire ate away at the mesh, the sky grew brighter and brighter until finally the skies were free, the moon shining down on Flax like a pale, sightless eye.
A cheer went up. Artemisia raised her sword and ordered a command.
“Charge!”
Even those who weren’t Youngbloods heeded her call. They swarmed towards the forces trying to take their city from them, and what had already been a bloodbath turned into a massacre.
“Hold them until dawn!” Artemisia shouted. “They’ll be weaker when the Sun rises!”
Neith descended to Artemisia’s side. She dropped the amulet into her hand and shapeshifted back into her normal form, flicking a lock of hair out of her face.
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“Thanks, Neith!” Artemisia pecked her on the cheek. Neith grinned.
“Let’s go!”
They held on. They held on until dawn, when grasping fingers of light began to rise over the horizon and the bitter taste of dark magic vanished all at once. Seemingly knowing when they were beaten, the invaders’ forces departed. A ragged cheer went up from the defenders.
“We won!” Bonnie cackled from a blasted turret.
Neith flipped down her veil. Artemisia eyed the amulet, then glanced back at the castle.
“Where do you think Saga is?” she asked.
Neith shrugged.
----------------------------------------
Artemisia and Neith found Saga’s statue in the castle’s armory, its most heavily defended spot. Artemisia hung the amulet around the statue’s neck, and in a flash of emerald light it was gone, replaced by Saga themselves, looking haggard and bewildered.
“-out of this!” they cried before freezing when they saw Artemisia and Neith. “…oh. Artemisia, Neith. Good to see you.”
Neith waved.
“Would you mind informing me of what happened?”
“We won,” Artemisia said bluntly.
Saga was quiet for so long that Artemisia began to wonder if she’d said something wrong. Then they lunged forwards and threw their arms around Artemisia’s neck, causing her to go stiff as a board.
“Oh, thank the stars!” they cried. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help-”
“You got turned into a statue by your archenemy,” Neith said, “it’s…not really your fault.”
Artemisia glanced at Neith with a bewildered look in her eyes, begging her to rescue her from this unexpected hug. Neith shook her head and gave her a thumbs-up and a grin.
Saga stepped back after a moment, clearing their throat and smoothing out their clothes to pretend that never happened. They nodded at Artemisia, then started for the stairs.
“I’m terribly sorry about this mess,” Saga said, their voice returning to its normal moderate tone. Their footsteps cracked on the castle’s floors, occasionally crunching when they encountered a pile of debris. “I never meant for it to get this bad. We sent a force to try and stop him, but by then he’d grown too powerful.”
They stopped at the entrance to the castle’s central courtyard. The remainders of the factions who’d sided with the former Head Mystic were gathered there under the watchful eye of the Knights of Penrose, and all their eyes turned balefully to stare at Saga when their presence became obvious.
“My liege!” a Knight in the gilt armor of a Sovereign Sword cried, bowing to Saga. “What shall we do with these traitors?”
“Leave them to the High Council to deal with,” Saga said smoothly. The captives shuddered; even exile was better than dealing with the slow, monotonous drudgery of the Council. “Any traitors in their ranks should be found and pardoned. They are not to blame for the actions of their faction. The people most responsible - faction leaders, advisors and such - should be held accountable in the best possible manner.”
“…Exile, my liege?” the Knight asked after a moment’s hesitation, as if he was waiting for Saga to say it.
“Yes,” Saga said.
The Knight bowed. “As you wish, my liege.”
Saga nodded and turned back to Artemisia and Neith. “Where’s Bonnie?”
“I have no clue,” Artemisia admitted.
“I’m right here, you lunks!”
The trio looked up to see Bonnie lounging in a tree, examining a shiny trinket she must’ve taken from one of the captives. She jumped down when they noticed her, landing neatly between Artemisia and Saga.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I would like to thank you and your faction for your actions in protecting the Mystics. You and Artemisia both,” Saga said. “You have my sincerest gratitude, and should a Bandit or Youngblood ever end up in dire aid, the Mystics shall answer their call.”
Bonnie grinned. “Thanks!”
“We are honored, but the pleasure is all ours,” Artemisia said. “You would’ve done the same if it was us who was in trouble.”
Saga nodded. “If either of you need me, I will be with the other Mystics, cleaning up the damage my predecessor has inflicted.”
They snapped their fingers and vanished in a puff of mist. Bonnie huffed. “I should’ve asked ‘em for money.”
Artemisia gave her a sidelong glance, then started for the castle’s gate. She was interrupted halfway through by a blur that collided with her with all the force of Flint’s steam trains.
“Concordia!” Artemisia cried.
Concordia squeezed her a little tighter. She could feel her hair starting to grow damp. She stepped back after a moment, wiping her eyes.
I saw you die, she signed. I was worried that Flint would be too late.
“I’m so sorry, Concordia,” Artemisia said sincerely. She brushed a lock of hair out of the bigger girl’s face. “But you did the best you could, and that was more than I could’ve asked of you.”
Concordia nodded.
“Hey, surfacer!”
Artemisia peered around Concordia, then looked between Concordia and the person standing behind her: Mel. They looked no worse than she expected, covered in soot, grease, and thick, dried goblin’s blood. Ginger was riding on their shoulders, waving at Artemisia with both of her arms.
“Hi!” she shouted. “We survived!”
“You forgot to pay me!” Mel cried.
Artemisia groaned and buried her head in her hands.
“Concordia? Would you mind finding Apollyon? I think he’s the one in charge of the vaults right now.”
Concordia nodded, blinking tears out of her eyes and smiling. I would be happy to.
Concordia ran off, and Mel and Ginger approached.
“Good to see you both lived,” Neith said.
“Same!” Ginger replied. “My exosuit took quite a beating, but it’s nothing I can’t fix. And if I can’t fix it, I can melt it down and reuse the brass to make that Tesla coil I’ve always wanted!”
“If you make that Tesla coil, I’m taking you on a one-way trip to the Soulless Sea,” Mel warned.
“Don’t worry, I’m reasonably certain this one won’t blow up!”
Concordia returned with Apollyon, a short, dark-haired former Mystic with hazel eyes in tow. He was clutching an enchanted coin purse in his hands. He quickly tipped a heaping handful of coins into Mel’s hands, and the Spelunker’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates at the sight of the coins.
“Ginger, we’re never working again!” they cheered. They stuffed the coins into their pockets and wrapped Artemisia in a bone-crushing hug before almost immediately releasing her, grabbing her hand and shaking it vigorously. “Pleasure doin’ business with ya! If you ever need a friend in Flint, you know who to call!”
They bolted, both them and Ginger laughing. Artemisia shook her head.
“We should be heading back to the walls,” Artemisia said.
Concordia nodded. We have work to do.