Hump collapsed to one knee, drained and shivering, but he fought the urge to rest just yet. Nisha pressed up against his side, helping to support him. He sat down heavily and leaned his back against her, staring up at the descending Chosen. While it wasn’t quite the grand arrival of the dragon keepers at Lich Queen Irila’s lair, it was a spectacle, nonetheless. The Chosen floated downward, carried on winds of divine white that slowed their descent, filling the hole to the surface with a radiant glow.
Far above was an overcast sky. Even that glimpse of it made Hump smile. After all his time in the Remnant Realm and Infernal Halls, only now did he truly feel like he had made it back to his own world. Even if he currently resided in a warlock stronghold—that part needed some work.
Hump estimated there had to be at least fifty descending, with more lining up around the edge of the hole above, waiting for their turn. With effort, Hump forced himself to his feet, using his staff and Nisha for support. He refused to greet the Chosen lying meekly on the ground. Hedge wizard or not, he had his pride.
The first to land made Hump’s eyes widen in shock—he recognised her immediately. Lady Isolde Havina, towering and imposing in her golden armour, was unmistakeable. She carried a matching, massive shield in one hand, and a gleaming sword in the other. Her blond hair shimmered, glowing with a warm light even in the dark of the chamber. A confident smile spread over her face as she looked across Hump and the others. Hump drew a breath, stunned at who stood before him. She wasn’t just an eighth circle Chosen of Ordana; she was the mortal leader of the Sun Goddess’ temple, and one of the most influential Chosen in Alveron.
Beside her, a figure in dark leathers appeared out of seemingly nowhere, a black scarf wrapped around his face. Another legend: Sir Kaelen Raith, eight circle Chosen of Rathnar. There was a split in the scarf that revealed his eyes—both solid white, an injury he had gained after being tortured in captivity. It was said that even when he lost his eyes, he didn’t scream. He didn’t even shudder. Stories of his iron will were like tales out of myth. When he was finally rescued months later, it was said that he had greeted his saviours with a cheery smile and had been in no hurry to get free.
As more figures descended, Hump caught sight of one more familiar face—a wizard among the Chosen. Wizard Jentris Grantham, a Rank 6 mage renowned for her deadly mastery of lightening, instantly recognisable with her white hair streaked through with black. Many considered her the most destructive wizard of the modern age.
Nishari wandered forward, standing protectively in front of Hump as she eyed the newcomers suspiciously. Friends?
Yes. You can relax.
Her posture softened, yet she did not move as the Chosen gathered around. Bud and Owen moved forward to greet the leaders of the group with respectful bows. Marian had already briefed them on the situation.
“My lords and ladies, if you would follow me, General Korteg and Count Daston are engaged in battle,” Owen said, his voice steady. “I will take you to them.”
Lady Isolde turned, her piercing gaze sweeping over Owen with approval. “Greetings to you all, my friends,” she said. “What is your name, Knight?”
“That’s Sir Owen, Chosen of Raik,” Sir Kaelen said, his voice clear despite his scarf. “We’ve met before.”
“Indeed we have, Sir Norman. It is good to see you again,” Owen replied, bowing slightly.
“You have my thanks for bringing us here, Sir Owen,” Lady Isolde said.
Owen shook his head. “I cannot take credit, my lady. That belongs to Marian and my friend, Wizard Humphrey. I was merely a bodyguard.”
He gestured toward Hump, who suddenly found himself the centre of attention. Mouth slightly open, he fumbled for a greeting. “Good to see you. Nice of you to show up so quickly.”
A murmur spread through the crowd.
“Wizard Humphrey?” someone whispered. “The White Flame.”
“Impossible. He’s in the north.”
“And he’s a fire user.”
Hump was too exhausted to correct them and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn’t have the energy to straighten out rumours. He was a little flattered that his reputation had made it this far, but now was hardly the time.
“You are the White Flame, are you not?” A calm, commanding voice cut through the chatter, and Hump looked up to see Wizard Jentris approaching, her sharp gaze assessing him.
Hump cringed internally but nodded. “That’s what some people have taken to calling me.”
A faint smile touched her lips. “I’ve heard of your feats. Once the battle is done, I’d like to speak with you again. You must come to the academy.”
“Enough pleasantries,” Lady Isolde interjected. “Lead the way, Sir Owen. We’ve been hunting these rats day and night. Finally, the hour of reckoning has come. Soldiers, with me!”
Hump gave a relieved sigh as attention fell from him. He leant back against the wall, considering for just a moment whether he should follow too, before deciding against it. “I’m sitting this one out,” he muttered tiredly. “I’m done for the day.”
Bud, however, straightened, steeling himself. “I’ll go with them. I still have some fight le—”
“Stay here, Sir Robert,” a firm voice interrupted.
Bud’s eyes widened and he bowed his head respectfully toward a woman that had approached, fully armoured in plate much like Bud’s own. “Lady Johanna, I wish to be of service.”
She regarded him with a gentle gaze. “You’re exhausted, Sir Robert. Your Frostfire is crusting over you; you look like you haven’t slept for days. Remain here and leave this for us. Finding these creatures was the hard part, but bringing them down shall be simple.”
“Yes, my friends,” another Chosen chimed in, his voice filled with energy. “Leave a few of these bastards for us, eh?”
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As they left, Hump called over to Bud. “Who was that?”
“Lady Johanna, seventh circle Chosen of Kelisia,” Bud said. “She trained me and my fellow knights at Blackthorne a few times. We are distant kin.”
The Chosen mobilised quickly, splitting into groups. A few teams stayed behind to search the nearby tunnels, while Owen led the bulk of the force back to the main battle. Hump watched, attempting to keep track of the descending Chosen, but his exhaustion soon dulled his focus. They must have numbered at least two hundred, and they were powerful—Elenvine’s finest defenders.
Soon, Hump, his party, and the rest of Owen’s party were left in the chamber to rest. Bud couldn’t sit still, even after Lady Johanna’s instructions. He joined the Chosen teams left behind, informing them of signs of children within the complex, and warning them to be cautious.
Settling back down, Hump waited, the distant sound of battle a faint echo through the stone.
“Fancy a look?” Marian asked, the Chosen of Vesta sitting cross legged on the ground nearby and extended a hand, light forming a circle in the air before her. The light brightened, and then within the window the image of the battle appeared.
Hump and the others shuffled closer. “Have I ever told you how cool your blessing is?”
Marian grinned. “Not you specifically, but I’ve heard it before. I can never be told too often.”
Celaine pressed up against Hump for a better view. Hump leaned his shoulder against her, feeling a little strength return to him from her touch. They watched as Lady Isolde and her forces arrived in the main chamber. What followed was nothing short of a massacre.
The power displayed left Hump speechless. General Korteg was impressive, but his abilities were less flashy and more practical, honed for straightforward, lethal combat. Lady Isolde on the other hand blazed like a living sun. Waves of light radiated from her, filling the cavern with intense brightness. Beams of concentrated energy descended from above, striking foes with merciless precision. Her shield gleamed with a radiance that dazzled her enemies, while her sword swung with effortless grace, sending scorching flares of heat through the ranks of her opponents. Each stroke seemed to devastate all within its path.
Hump’s eyes shifted to Sir Norman. He appeared and disappeared like a ghost, weaving through the battlefield in a blur of darkness and silent malice. His movements were swift and deadly, his figure little more than a flicker as he struck down his enemies with chilling precision. The single dagger in his hand flashed, appearing only for a moment before it sank into an opponent, and then he vanished once more. Of all the warriors Hump had seen, Sir Norman was the one he least wanted to face. He was death incarnate, his very presence sending a spike of dread through Hump.
Around them, the rest of the force fought with ferocity. Lightning flared through the chamber. General Korteg erupted from behind Count Daston’s barrier, his greatsword carving apart the enemy lines. The hall filled with the light of hundreds of Chosen, their blessings illuminating the walls like the sun through stained glass. Every shadow was purged, every lingering darkness swept from the tunnel. Watching from a safe distance, Hump felt a sense of calm come over him. For the first time in a while, he could sit back, and let the Chosen do what they did best.
Pure relief.
“We made it,” Dylan said. The druid breathed deeply, a deep satisfaction on his face. “I could sleep for a week.”
“I really might,” Emilia said.
“I can’t wait for a hot bath,” Hump said.
“We need to find your family first though,” Bud said to Emilia. “Rest can wait a little longer.”
She smiled gratefully and nodded.
“We’ll all come,” Celaine added, wrapping an arm around Emilia’s shoulder.
“And you will all be welcome to stay,” Emilia said. “It will be far better than any inn you will find, I assure you.”
“Your father won’t make me duel him, will he?” Bud said with a frown.
Emilia paused, a finger going to her chin as she considered his words. “Probably not before you get a chance to sleep.”
Bud let out a long, weary sigh, his shoulders slumping. Hump shot him a grin, only for Bud’s frown to deepen as he caught Hump’s eye.
After the fighting had ceased, Hump and the others gathered in the main chamber, waiting for orders amidst the aftermath. The room was crowded with captured warlocks, their heads lowered in defeat, while others lay dead where they had fallen. The air was thick with the scent of blood and charred flesh, and the metallic tang clung to the back on Hump’s throat. He scanned the area, searching for other signs of the grand temple that must have once belonged to the wizards that had built this place, but all he found were the hollowed-out chambers of the warlock stronghold. From what he could tell, the array controlling the rift was the only thing that remained.
Reports came back from search parties—no children were found in the tunnels, but signs of their presence were everywhere. Dormitories with small, hastily abandoned beds, rudimentary books on magic and combat, wooden training weapons, and even a few children’s books—all painted a grim picture of what life had been like here. They had lived and trained within these tunnels, raised to serve the warlocks’ purpose.
Hump’s chest tightened as he imagined himself in their place, growing up underground, far from light, trained to serve a dark cult that worshipped forgotten gods, moulded into warriors willing to die for them. Those children, now likely taken somewhere in the Remnant Realm, hidden away for future battles, haunted his thoughts.
Soon, the Chosen and soldiers gathered around Lady Isolde, who stood at the centre of the two forces, even General Korteg deferring to her.
“My scouts have found a route back to the surface,” she announced, her voice resonating through the chamber. “You will return to the surface, while my force remains here to secure and search this place. General Korteg, Count Daston, and to all of you who travelled so far in defence of Alveron, I extend my deepest gratitude. From here, leave what comes next to us.”
One Chosen stepped forward. “My lady, please can you tell us what happened? What is the situation in Elenvine?” His voice was strained with urgency.
Lady Isolde’s expression tightened; the anger Hump saw in her before returning briefly. “There is too much to tell entirely here, so I shall be brief: the warlocks attacked Elenvine seeking to destroy something within one of our temples. I cannot share specifics, but their target was placed in our care by the gods. Though the assault failed in Elenvine, much of the city has been devastated by fire and magic, and we were the lucky ones. By current reports, the warlocks have succeeded in their strikes on nine cities. War has come to Alveron, my brothers and sisters. A war that has been long in planning.”
“What of King Henry?” Marcela asked.
“There was an attempt on King Henry’s life,” Lady Isolde said. “He lives, but Queen Lilibet was killed.”
“The queen is dead?” someone said in disbelief. “Gods give us strength.”
“How could this happen?” Count Daston asked, voice trembling with anger. “How, Isolde?”
The woman met the count’s eyes with sorrow, regret twisting across her features. “We were betrayed,” she spat—fury, sadness, pain laced in her voice. “Tobias Godfrey turned against us.”
Hump’s heart stopped. The chamber was engulfed in silence. For a few seconds, all struggled to process the news—Sir Tobias Godfrey, Chosen of Lady Light, one of only two ninth circle Chosen in Alveron, had betrayed them.
“That’s… impossible,” Bud stammered, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sir Tobias was Lady Light’s greatest Paladin! This cannot be! There must be some mistake.”
The fury in his voice was echoed by other Chosen around the chamber.
Lady Isolde’s expression twisted with fury, her eyes blazing as she waited for silence to settle over the crowd. Her mouth was set in a grim line, and when she finally spoke, quiet anger filled her voice.
“There is no mistake. Godfrey forsook his oath,” she said, her tone like tempered steel. “He betrayed everything we stand for, everything we swore to protect. It was he who killed Queen Lilibet, cutting her down in cold blood.” She took a breath, her gaze sweeping the room as if daring anyone to question her words. The gathering watched with wrapped attention. “He is an Oathbreaker,” she spat. “And for his treachery, he shall be hunted. We will find him, and when we do, he shall meet the judgement of the gods, and only oblivion will wait for him.”
Each word seemed to hang in the air. Hump felt the intensity of her rage in his soul, her violent intent pressing down on him. Yet the question on his mind was why? Why would one of the most exalted of all Chosen turn against the Pantheon?