Stomach churning, you stagger as your feet struggle to recognize solid ground, the world around you still spinning.
“What do we do now?” The question slips out, weak and trembling, the nausea clawing at your stomach.
Solena stands before you, but something about her is wrong. Her usual grace has turned into erratic, jerky movements. “He’s close,” she mutters, blinking rapidly, her shallow breaths quickening. A tremor runs through her hands as they brush over the granite tabletop, and you notice how her eyes keep darting to the ceiling, searching for something invisible.
“What’s happening?” Panic rises in your voice as you step closer.
She doesn’t answer immediately, only takes a deep, shuddering breath, nodding almost mechanically. “Something wicked... is coming,” she whispers, the words barely audible.
Her gaze shifts to one of the shelves. Without hesitation, she snatches up a crystal ball resting atop a shiny black base. For a moment, she pauses, as if contemplating whether to use it. You catch the slight flicker of fear in her eyes as she places the crystal ball on the table and brushes a strand of crimson hair behind her ear.
“Talk to me!” You can hear the desperation in your own voice, but she remains silent, focused entirely on the ball.
As you step closer, a rush of energy courses through you. The ball begins to hum softly, its surface glowing and sending cascading waves of light that dance across the room. Everything freezes for a heartbeat before the glow intensifies, spilling outward in swirling patterns that distort the walls and ceiling. Shadows twist, reality warping as the air thickens around you.
A tendril of light snakes out, wrapping around her fingers. She winces, gripping the ball as if wrestling to contain its power. "This isn’t good," she gasps, barely loud enough for you to hear. Each pulse from the ball sends vibrations through the room, blurring the line between what’s real and what’s magic.
The patterns within the crystal sharpen, projecting a vivid, three-dimensional scene. Fire, ash, and debris erupt into the room, transforming it into a hellscape. Smoke fills your senses; the faint heat of distant flames prickles your skin. It’s not just a vision—it feels like you’ve been dragged into the scene itself.
“Solena! Can you tell me what’s going on?” you shout, fear knotting your insides. But her eyes remain fixed, wide and unblinking, reflecting the inferno now surrounding you both.
The devastation unfolds with chilling clarity: a ruined stretch of farmland, its once-green fields now blackened and lifeless. Recognition slams into you. “The cabbage patch,” you gasp, clutching the edge of the table. “My friends... they’re there! We need to help them!”
Her focus doesn’t waver. Her hands tighten around the crystal ball, knuckles white. “He’s already there,” she murmurs, her voice hollow, almost lost in the roar of the flames.
The projection shifts, pulling back to reveal a lone figure standing at the edge of the chaos. A chill presses against your chest as the air around you turns frigid. “Who is that?” you ask.
Solena gasps, and the colors swirling in the room converge into a single point of light. The intruder steps forward, his presence expanding to fill the space with an oppressive dread that presses against your skin.
“No...” you whisper as the figure raises his hand. Fire blooms in his palm, growing into a massive fireball. Light floods the chamber, so blinding that you instinctively shield your face. Heat washes over you, searing your skin.
“Solena!” Slamming your hands on the table, you try to break through to her. "Snap out of it!" But she remains motionless, her eyes locked on the vision, unblinking and unresponsive. Magic thickens in the air around her, turning the room into a pressure cooker ready to burst.
Then, the figure’s face comes into focus. A porcelain skull, stark white, with two smaller skulls perched on his shoulders like grotesque sentries. His eye sockets blaze with furious red light, molten rubies staring into your soul. In his hand, the massive scythe crackles with dark energy, warping the room with its malevolence.
Revulsion twists your gut. It isn’t just an image; it's a force invading your mind. Solena's fingers dig into the crystal, her face paling as if she’s fighting against something far beyond her control.
The vision zooms in. The undead mage turns, his gaze locking onto you and Solena. Coldness floods the room, and you feel his sinister grin form within the hollow contours of his skull.
His hand extends toward you, fingers curling as if to crush something delicate. A sharp crack splits the air; the crystal ball vibrates violently in her grip, the room groaning under the pressure.
“Solena!” Panic surges as you scream her name, but it's already too late. A jagged line tears through the crystal’s surface, followed by a shattering crack. Light erupts, fragments flying outward like glass daggers. The projection collapses, fire and chaos disintegrating into dark fragments of magic.
She shrieks, clutching her head as the crystal ball crumbles into dust. Darkness consumes the room, the lingering energy crackling like a dying fire. Breathless and trembling, you reach out to her. “What do we do? My friends are there!”
Her eyes lift, but they’re distant, unfocused. “Wild-Wizard…” she whispers, as if the words alone carry the weight of death.
A surge of frustration and terror overtakes you. “You’re not making any sense!” you shout, struggling to pierce through the chaos.
Suddenly, a wrenching scream rips from her throat. Doubling over, she clutches her head with both hands. The sound is raw, filled with agony. You rush to her side, hand resting on her back in a futile attempt to comfort her. “How can I help you?” you plead, voice trembling, but the answer remains elusive, buried under the weight of her pain.
Her head snaps up, eyes wide and filled with a fear you’ve never seen before. For a moment, they flash a different color—a vibrant hue that reminds you of endless grasslands. Sweat beads on her forehead, her breathing ragged and panicked. "LEAVE NOW!" she bellows, the command laced with a desperation that hits you like a punch to the gut.
Stumbling back, her words hit you like a blow, and your eyes well with tears. Something sinister is at play, something beyond your comprehension. Another hesitant step backward, then you turn and sprint out of the guild, heart pounding.
Cold night air slaps you in the face as you burst outside, the breeze doing little to calm your racing heart. A pungent smell of burning cabbage fills your nostrils, mingling with the salt of your tears. Your friends are in danger, and now Solena might be too. You have to act. Quickly.
Racing through the streets of Carlin, an eerie quiet blankets the city, the usual bustle replaced by a suffocating silence. Moisture slicks the cobblestones beneath your feet, making each step treacherous.
Shuttered shops and abandoned market stalls blur past. Distant clangs of metal and hurried shouts of guards echo through the narrow streets, but you block them out, focusing solely on your destination—the cabbage patch. Your friends are probably there, but are they..alive?
The north gate looms ahead. Forcing yourself to run harder, lungs burning and legs screaming in protest, you dash toward the tunnel leading out of the city. The path stretches before you, empty and foreboding, but there’s no stopping now.
Emerging from the tunnel, the acrid smell of smoke stings your eyes, thickening as you approach. The cabbage patch sprawls out, a scene of utter devastation. Wagons lie in burning heaps, charred husks smoldering in the darkness. Deep craters scar the earth where fireballs struck.
"Is anyone alive!? Can any of you hear me?" you shout into the void, the desperation in your voice raw and unrestrained.
Only the crackling of flames and the distant groaning of collapsing wood answer you. Panic seizes your chest as a familiar figure catches your eye—Blackbane, slumped over two others, arms outstretched as if shielding them from a blast.
Stumbling forward, you drop to your knees beside him, hands trembling as they grip his shoulder. “Blackbane! Get up!” you shout, your voice cracking under the weight of fear.
No response. His body lies limp, unmoving, a dreadful stillness permeating the air. Tears blur your vision as a cold realization washes over you—he’s gone.
A faint sound reaches your ears. One of the figures beneath him groans, pulling back their hood to reveal a soot-smeared face. “Erazon?” the man gasps, voice weak.
Relief floods through you. “Godric!” you exclaim. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”
Grimacing, he struggles to sit up. “My leg... it’s broken. Elii... is she...?”
Horror grips you as your gaze shifts to the other figure—Elizza. Shaking her gently at first, then more urgently, you call out, “Elizza, wake up! Please, wake up!”
She doesn’t respond, her face paler than normal and streaked with ash. You feel panic clawing at your throat, but you can’t give up. Reaching into your bag, you pull out the healing potion from Akilliz. Uncorking it with trembling hands and gently pouring the entire contents into her mouth, you whisper a silent prayer that it will be enough.
Godric watches, his eyes filled with fear and hope. “Is she…?”
After a painful pause, she swallows the potion. You see her coughing as her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a soft moan. Relief crashes over you like a wave. "Elizza!"
The dusky haired man breathes a sigh of relief, but the pain in his leg is evident. "Lad..my leg... I can’t stand," he winces.
Still groggy but rising to her feet, Elizza reaches for her wand. She murmurs an incantation, her voice weak but steady, and a soft green light envelops Godric’s leg. The bone slowly mends itself, the swelling subsides, and Godric lets out a sigh of relief as the pain ebbs away. You are amazed at her magic, but there’s no time to focus on it.
With the siblings getting steady on their feet, you search the field for more survivors. The doom is absolute—burnt green delights, overturned wagons, and smoldering robes litter the ground. You move through the field, checking for any sign of life, but it seems hopeless. Cabbage Cult members lie motionless, their robes charred, bodies twisted in agony.
A faint sound pricks at your ears—soft jingling, like the chime of distant bells. You turn, eyes narrowing as a brown-robed figure emerges from behind a half-collapsed wagon. Ash swirls off his form, carried away by the wind. For a heartbeat, you freeze, breath caught in your throat. Then, recognition hits you, and a wave of relief floods your senses. It’s the monk! Amidst the devastation, his presence feels like a sliver of hope piercing through the darkness.
“Master Kiatsu!” you call out, your voice filled with desperation.
He hurries toward you, his usual whimsical demeanor replaced with a grimace. His eyes are sharp and focused as he approaches.“Oh, my... oh, my...” he mutters, scanning the area. “Such a terrible mess... But we can fix this, yes, yes...”
“Master Kiatsu, can you help them? Can you save anyone?” you plead, gesturing to the fallen.
He nods solemnly, his expression becoming increasingly serious. “I’ll do what I can, young one, but there’s only so much time... Only a few can be brought back.”
With a swift, practiced motion, He pulls out a long, slender wand from within his robes. The shaft glows faintly, its surface covered in carvings that seem to pulse with life. He raises it high above his head, his voice taking on a deep, guttural tone as he chants an ancient incantation.
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“Invenire Animus,” he intones, his voice thick in power.
Orbs of light appear above two of the fallen, hovering like small, glowing suns. The light pulses gently, growing brighter as the monk channels his energy into the spell. Slowly, the orbs descend, touching the bodies. Their chests rise and fall with shallow breaths as life returns to their forms.
Monk wipes the sweat from his brow, his old face lined with concentration and exhaustion. “Quickly. Quickly now. Bring them to me. We must get them to the temple or they won’t survive. The others... I’m afraid it’s their time.”
Rushing to the nearest survivor with Godric at your side, a woman with soot-covered hair and torn robes lies nearly motionless. Her breathing is faint, but she’s alive. He hoists her onto his shoulders with a grunt of effort, while his sister hurries to the other member—a young man, barely conscious but breathing steadily.
The monk strides ahead toward the north gate, his pace swift and sure despite his age and the grim weight of the scene around you. Each step is accompanied by the soft jingling of his bells, a haunting sound that echoes like the final toll for the fallen.
As you near the gate, the stone archway looms ahead, its shadows stretching long in the flickering torchlight. Just as you think you’re about to enter, a dark figure steps out from the tunnel's entrance, blocking the path.
The monk is the first to spot him. He halts abruptly, his entire body going rigid, eyes widening in shock and recognition. “No… you... devil!” he breathes, his voice quivering.
A bloodless skull gleams in the dim light ahead, a massive scythe gripped in bony hands. Dark energy crackles along the blade, the air around it shimmering with unnatural heat. Molten red eyes burn with hostile intent, locking onto their target.
“Esca-!” the monk shouts, trying to turn and warn you. But before he can finish, the Wild Wizard raises the scythe. With a swift motion, he swings the malevolent blade, sending a wave of dark energy surging toward the caretaker. The impact is immediate, violent—a burst of power that engulfs him in a torrent of flames and shadow.
No. This can’t be happening. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm of panic. You’re not ready for this. Not against him.
The air around you crackles as the undead horror looms closer. His skeletal frame radiates power, a force that dwarfs anything you’ve ever encountered. The scythe in his hand glows ominously, and you can almost feel the darkness it emanates. You struggle to maintain a façade of calm.
“Helping these pathetic humans?” he sneers, voice like bones grinding together. “You have no idea the power I could wield with that artifact wasted in your hands. Hand it over, and I shall spare you.”
Clutching the spellbook to your chest, you force yourself to stand tall. The book feels like an anchor, its weight grounding you, though fear twists in your gut. This is insane. You’ve only just learned to summon a simple flame. What makes you think you can stand against this?
“I would never stoop so low,” you manage to say, voice trembling despite your efforts. “You’re an abomination that needs to be exorcized.”
A cold sweat breaks out across your brow as his eyes flare with dark amusement. “Foolish mortal. You’ll be hunted, and you will find no safety until I have what I want.”
“You couldn’t take it if you tried,” you snap, trying to summon defiance. You have to act like you have a plan, even if your mind is screaming otherwise.
“It is bound to me by forces you cannot control.” A lie, you think, but maybe it will buy you time.
His skeletal grin widens, teeth gleaming like daggers in the darkness. "You truly are blind to your fate, aren't you, Elf?" His words ooze mockery. "That spellbook won't help you; soon, you'll be nothing but ash on the wind. And when you burn, you won't even have time to regret holding what you can't control."
Fear twists your insides into knots, but you force anger to the surface, the only armor you have left. "You speak of power, but all I see is a hollow shell," you snarl, praying he doesn't hear the crack in your voice. "A heap of bones clinging to darkness. It's time you returned to the grave." The words taste like bravado on your tongue, hollow and thin.
His laughter chills you to the bone. "Undead by choice, fool. I’ve shattered the chains of mortality and stand on the brink of godhood." His voice drops to a whisper, each word like a knife. "You think you can defy me? I will take that artifact, and you will beg for the abyss. Life and death mean nothing to me—I am the end."
A shiver runs down your spine. This was a mistake. You’re not ready for this. The book pulses in your grasp, reacting to the dark power before you. Your heart pounds louder, echoing in your ears. Get a grip, Erazon. You’re going to die if you freeze now. There has to be a way out.
In an instant, he raises his free hand, crimson energy crackling along his skeletal fingers. It gathers into a roiling mass, and with a snap of his wrist, he unleashes it—a torrent of flame hurtles toward you.
No time!
You clutch the spellbook tighter, reaching deep within yourself. A whispered prayer to the Nine escapes your lips as you feel a desperate plea form in your mind. The book hums with life in response, its magic stirring. Then, like a lightning bolt, a word sears itself into your consciousness—a word you’ve never learned yet feels inexplicably familiar. You scream it out, your voice breaking under the strain.
"Aurevexis!"
A golden shield erupts from the spellbook, surrounding you just as the flames crash against it. The barrier shimmers, glowing fiercely against the darkened sky. The impact slams into you, rattling your bones. Barely... I barely got it up in time. Sweat beads on your forehead as you grit your teeth, struggling to hold the shield steady. This won’t hold long. I’m not strong enough!
The Wild Wizard’s eyes narrow, the light within them flickering with irritation. “Pathetic,” he hisses, his voice like dry wood crackling in a fire. “I will break you.”
He raises his scythe high, its blade gleaming with dark energy that seems to devour the very light around it. The air grows thick, pressing in on you. The ground beneath your feet quakes as he unleashes his next attack—a blast of dark magic hurtling toward you. It morphs mid-flight into a massive black skull, hollow eyes blazing with malevolent power. A scream fills your mind, piercing through your defenses and rattling your sanity.
The shield shudders, golden light flickering as the attack pounds against it. You clench your jaw, every muscle straining to keep it intact. Is this how I die? The thought digs into you, an unwelcome intruder in your mind. You can feel the magic slipping through your fingers, your strength fading fast. The barrier is cracking, just like your resolve. I’m not strong enough.
No. Another thought cuts through the despair. If I fall, so will my friends.
With a surge of defiance, you dig deeper into the spellbook’s power, feeling it slipping like sand through your grasp. Your body screams in protest, exhaustion clawing at your limbs. Then, your hand brushes against something cold and sharp in your cloak—the obsidian dagger.
You don’t remember placing it there, but in this moment, it feels like it was meant for this. It’s now or never. With the shield on the verge of collapse, you yank the blade out. No time to hesitate. A swift slice across your palm sends a jolt of pain up your arm. Blood wells, dark and thick, and you press your hand to the spellbook's cover, smearing crimson across its ancient surface.
"Pyridion," you murmur, voice trembling. Heat surges through your veins, burning away the fear that had taken root. The spellbook vibrates violently, pages flipping of their own accord until they reveal a new chapter.
The spells within blaze before you, a cacophony of potential. Desperation guides your mind to the strongest one. Focusing on it, you channel the power building within you, letting it swell until you feel you might burst. I can’t control this. It’s too much!
A roar rises in your chest, not from fear but fury. You throw back your head and release it, a blast of flame surging from your mouth. The blaze collides with the dark skull, exploding in a blinding flash of light. The force sends Wild-Wizard staggering back, his scythe dipping as he reels from the unexpected onslaught.
Heart pounding, you collapse to one knee, gasping for breath. I survived... barely. But even as the thought crosses your mind, you know the fight is far from over.
“We have to move!” you croak, unable to stand.
Elizza is already moving. Surprising you with eyes burning of fury, she raises her wand, sending a jet of blue light hurtling toward the undead foe. Her spell strikes true, slamming into his chest. The ruby glow in his eyes flickers, his form crumpling to the ground.
“Run! You fools!” she shouts, voice sharp with urgency.
Godric doesn’t wait. He grabs your arm, pulling you along. “That won’t last long! We need to get to the depot!”
You sprint through the tunnel, the city looming ahead. Its streets, once full of life, now lie eerily silent, broken only by the distant crackle of flames.
“What was that spell!?” you gasp, your breath coming in ragged bursts. She glances at you and winks, a small smile playing on her lips despite the danger. “I put that idiot to sleep!”
Despite everything, a laugh escapes you, the absurdity cutting through the fear. Godric grins, his eyes glinting with amusement. “And you, lad! Breathing fire? You hiding some dragon blood in that family tree of yours?”
As you reach the city’s interior, the depot looms ahead, its stone walls bathed in torchlight. Guards and hooded figures stand outside, eyes scanning the streets, their postures tense and ready. Slowing your pace, you glance back to ensure the mage hasn’t followed. For now, the coast is clear.
“Act normal,” you whisper, signaling your companions to ease their pace. “These guards might recognize me.”
A tug on your sleeve draws your attention to Elizza, her expression serious and eyes sharp. “This place is too exposed. Follow us. Quickly—this way,” she says, her voice low and urgent.
Taking the lead, Godric guides you into a side street that twists away from the depot, his large frame moving with surprising swiftness. The narrow path is lined with cobblestone houses, shadows clinging to every corner. He halts in front of a modest dwelling, a large potted plant and a worn welcome mat marking the entrance. With a grunt, he opens the door, and Elizza slips inside with the fluid grace of her kind.
Attempting to follow, you feel an invisible barrier hold you back. Confusion grips you as you glance at Elizza, who watches with a glint of amusement in her eyes.
“Now try,” she says, the corners of her mouth lifting into a faint smile.
Hesitating for a moment, you step forward once more. This time, you cross the threshold without resistance. “What... was that?” you mutter, bewildered.
A small, mischievous grin spreads across her face. “Can’t just waltz into someone’s home without permission,” she teases, though her eyes betray the exhaustion creeping back in.
The warmth inside the house is a stark contrast to the chaos outside. Its quiet stillness settles over you like a thick fog, the echoes of the night’s events clinging to the air.
Crossing the room, Elizza moves toward an oak table, her steps growing slower, more hesitant. When she finally reaches it, her legs buckle, and she collapses into a chair. Reaching for a cup of water, she fumbles, the glass slipping from her grasp and spilling its contents across the table.
“Elizza...” Godric murmurs, his voice uncharacteristically soft. Kneeling beside her, he places a large hand gently on her shoulder. His usual stern expression is gone, replaced by a distant, haunted look as if the horrors of the night replay in his mind. For a long moment, he stays there, offering silent comfort amid her storm of grief.
Shuddering breaths escape her as her shoulders begin to shake. With a choked sob, she buries her face in her hands, tears spilling through her fingers. “It’s... it’s all gone,” she chokes out, voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone... Blackbane... Monk Kiatsu... our friends. They’re all gone.”
The raw anguish in her words cuts through you. Standing there, helpless, the weight of her sorrow presses down on your chest. Tightening his grip on her shoulder, Godric remains steady, his face a mask of sorrow.
“We did what we could, Elii,” he says, his voice thick with emotion, each word a struggle. “But sometimes, it’s just... not enough.”
Lifting her head, she meets his gaze, her tear-streaked face filled with pain. “Why now? Why them?” she cries, the anguish in her voice piercing the silence. “They were our family...”
A hard swallow, his jaw clenches as he searches for words. “I don’t know, lass. But this isn’t over. We’ll make it right—somehow.”
Stepping forward, a desperate need to say something overtakes you. “I... I’m so sorry,” you whisper, though the words feel hollow. Her eyes meet yours, swollen and red, a deep sadness etched within them.
“What can we do?” she asks, her voice fragile and raw.
Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself. “I don’t know,” you admit, “but I can’t stay here. Solena...I think she’s in danger. I need to find her, make sure she’s safe. Wild Wizard, he—”
Wiping her face with the back of her hand, Elizza forces herself to focus. “Solena... The master sorceress? I heard rumors it was a dwarf..?” A flicker of confusion crosses her face before determination hardens her features. “Maybe I am mistaken. If your friend is in trouble, we can’t just leave her. You’re not going alone.”
Nodding slowly, Godric rests his hand on the table, his posture weary but resolved. “Aye, if she’s strong enough to claim the title, she might stand a chance against him. But it’s a long shot, lad. Could end in disaster. If your mind’s set, we’ll see it through. First, we need supplies from the depot. And we need to keep our heads low.”
A shaky breath escapes Elizza as she stands from the chair, her legs trembling beneath her. “We’ll need to change before we go out again,” she says, her voice steadier now. “Can’t draw attention... and lucky for you, I have plenty of clothes—probably more than I should.”
An attempt at humor, weak but earnest, brings a flicker of warmth to the room. Godric lets out a faint huff, a shadow of a smile crossing his lips. “Aye, more clothes than sense, some might say.”
Rolling her eyes, she manages a small, wobbly smile. “Well, they’re coming in handy now, aren’t they?” With that, she disappears into a back room, returning moments later with three black cloaks and hats. “Here,” she says, handing them out. “These should fit. Let’s try to blend in.”
Taking the cloak and hat, you slip them on, noting how surprisingly soft the fabric is. As the cloak flows around you, a brief smile lights up Elizza’s face. “Very wizardly, Erazon,” she quips, a faint glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
Godric adjusts his cloak, checking the fit around his broad shoulders. “Right then,” he mutters, pulling a ring from his pocket and slipping it onto his finger. “If that bastard shows up, this might buy us a moment, but don’t count on it.”
Curiosity flickers, and you eye the ring. “What is that?” you ask, unable to hide the edge of envy in your voice.
“Golem ring,” he replies gruffly, twisting it thoughtfully. “It can take a blow or two, but I don’t plan on giving him the chance.”
With a determined glance, Elizza moves toward the door. “I’ll dig for information at the depot. Someone must have heard whispers if Wild-Wizard is nearby.” Though her voice remains steady, a hint of fear lingers behind her words, just barely concealed.
Godric's jaw tightens. “We gather supplies, find Solena... and if we’re lucky, catch our breath.” His gaze shifts to you, eyes firm. “But listen. No heroics, no unnecessary risks. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.”
A silence follows, heavy and suffocating, as the gravity of the task ahead sinks in. There are no guarantees—only the knowledge that failure would cost more than any of you can bear.
Elizza cracks the door open, a sliver of twilight spilling into the room. “Let’s go,” she murmurs. "The sooner we move, the better."
Taking a deep breath, you feel the cool air rush in, mingling with the lingering scent of smoke and ash. Cloaks drawn tight, each of you steps outside. The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the street, as if warning of the darkness ahead.
No rallying cries or grand gestures follow—just a shared glance between the three of you, a wordless acknowledgment of the fear, uncertainty, and the fragile hope that somehow, you’ll make it through.
The door closes behind with a heavy thud. With the light fading, you move forward, into the unknown.