The familiar walls of their home pressed in around Erazon, the weight of grief and doubt clawing at his chest. His friends huddled near the hearth, their backs turned, unaware of his presence. Godric’s shoulders, usually squared with resolve, now slumped in defeat. Elizza sat with her hair hanging loose, staring into the crackling flames.
Heart pounding, Erazon wiped his sweaty palms on his cloak, swallowing against the pressure building inside him. How could he possibly explain what had happened? They had seen him die.
With a breath that trembled on his lips, he stepped forward. The floorboards creaked beneath his weight, the sound sharp as a firebolt in the silence. “Hello...”
The word hung in the air like a spell, freezing both of them in place. Godric whipped around, eyes wide in horror. “You... a g-ghost?!” The words came out rough and raw, disbelief etched across his face.
A gasp slipped from Elizza, her hands flying to her mouth. “But—you’re... dead.” The last word barely escaped as a whisper, full of shock.
“I... I know what you saw,” Erazon began, voice unsteady. “I died. I watched it happen. But then I met with... Lord Death.”
The revelation twisted their expressions from horror to incredulity. Godric’s grip tightened on his hammer, knuckles turning white. “Met with Lord Death? One of the Nine?” His eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. “You’re not making sense. No one meets Death and comes back. How do we know you’re not some ghoul sent by Wild Wizard to torment us?”
Hands raised in a plea, Erazon shook his head. “No! I’m not a ghoul. I am alive. It was real... The God of Death brought me back, but only after I signed a pact and agreed to a mission.”
Silence settled over the room, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Godric’s eyes flickered with doubt. “Mission? What mission? If he sent you back, it must be something so grave that he’d break the natural laws to do it.”
Erazon nodded, feeling the enormity of what he was about to say. “I have to free Orlithar, the sorcerer trapped under the guild in this city. It’s the only way to break the curse controlling Solena.”
Shock crossed Elizza’s face. “I’ve heard rumors of a guild here in Carlin, but no one has ever seen it. It’s supposed to be hidden...”
“That’s right,” he confirmed, remembering the illusions that shrouded the place. “It’s hidden under a spell, but I think I can find it again. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”
A deep frown creased Godric’s brow. “Why do we need to free this sorcerer?”
“Because Wild and Solena have been siphoning his power,” Erazon explained, choosing his words carefully. “From what Elizza told me before, Orlithar is a dwarf—the real master sorcerer of this town.”
Her gasp came quickly. “I thought so! I’ve heard tales of Orlithar. He was always rumored to be a myth. But why is Solena, your friend, stealing his power and working with that devil?”
Suspicion darkened Godric's gaze. “Can we really trust anyone working with that monster?”
Erazon inhaled deeply, steadying himself. “The scythe he weilds... it’s Lord Death’s. He stole it and is using it to control her mind—probably others too. If I want to free her, we have to rescue the dwarf. He..might even be able to help us fight back..and avenge your friends who died in the cabbage patch.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she thought of their fallen friends. “Even Master Kiatsu...”
“Aye..Blackbane was like a brother to me,” Godric growled, his fists clenching in anger. “We lost a lot of good people.”
Erazon’s voice softened. “Actually, some good news. Lord Death told me that Monk Kiatsu is a master of teleportation. When he vanishes, he turns to ash. He’s alive and currently healing those we left at the north gate.”
“By the Nine!” Elizza's eyes widened in amazement.
“That crafty bastard,” Godric muttered, rubbing his chin. “Should’ve known. I saw ash falling when he appeared behind that wagon. Never heard his approach...”
“We need to rescue Orlithar,” Erazon pressed on, bringing their focus back to the task.
“You seriously want us to walk back out there?” Godric’s eyes flared with anger. “Into a city crawling with guards, where magic is now outlawed?” His voice rose, edged with desperation. “You died, Erazon! You want us to throw our lives away trying to free some wizard imprisoned by a man who just cut down Vicious like he was nothing?”
“I know it sounds insane,” Erazon replied, trying to keep his voice calm. “But I stood in the chamber of Lord Death. He showed me the path I need to take. If we free Orlithar, we might break the curse on Solena... and free this town from Wild Wizard.”
Elizza’s voice trembled. “You died,” she repeated, tears brimming in her eyes. “You want to go back out there... against that evil wizard, who commands the undead and controls the entire town?” She shook her head. “You’re asking us to face a force of nature none of us can match.”
“Yes, I died,” he admitted, feeling the pain of that memory. “And I was given a second chance. But that chance came with a cost. I signed the pact. If I don’t do this, then everything we’ve suffered, everything we’ve lost, will mean nothing.” He paused, letting the gravity of his words settle. “I won’t force you to come with me. But I will go. Alone, if I have to.”
Godric’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and fear. “You think you can just march back out there and save the world, is that it?” He spat the words like a challenge. “You think we’ll stand here and watch you die again?”
“No.” Erazon’s voice softened. “I’m saying I need you. Both of you. I know it’s insane. I know it sounds like a suicide mission. But together, we might have a chance.” He glanced between them. “We need supplies first. The potion shop. Then, we find a way under the guild.”
A shuddering breath left Godric’s lips as his shoulders sagged. “You’re a damned fool, Erazon.” His gaze shifted to his sister before turning back. “But you’re our fool. If you’re going to march into hell, then I’ll be damned if I let you go alone.”
“It’s madness...” Elizza choked back a sob, hands trembling. “But if we don’t try, then what hope do we have left?” Wiping her eyes, she nodded, resolve strengthening. “We’ll go. But we need a plan. We need to be smart.”
Relief washed over him, leaving him lightheaded. “Thank you,” he whispered. “It’s insane, but it’s our only shot.”
Before the tension could grow unbearable, a tiny, high-pitched voice broke the silence. “Finally!” Lumi declared, fluttering onto Erazon’s shoulder with a huff. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you lot to stop moping? We’ve got a world to save!”
A chuckle escaped Erazon at the pixie’s irreverence, the levity a welcome relief from the tension. “Lumi, meet Godric and his sister, Elizza.”
Godric’s eyes widened at the sight of the pixie. Years of fighting pests in the farmlands kicked in. “Mosquito!” he bellowed, swatting at Lumi as if she were an insect.
Lumi darted out of the way in a blur of color and light. “I’m no mosquito, you bumbling bag of bones!” she snapped, crossing her tiny arms in a huff.
Muttering a few choice words, she flicked her wrist, freezing his hand mid-swing. His nose began to swell, growing to a comically ridiculous size that transformed his face into something akin to a babadook.
Laughter rang out, bright and clear, as Elizza doubled over. “Godric, your nose! You look like a giant turnip!”
Eyes crossing as he tried to see his own swollen nose, he grumbled, his voice muffled, “Aye, I’ve looked better, lass!”
The laughter faded, and a heavy silence settled over the room. Godric’s expression grew grim as he turned to his companions. “While you were gone, the city went to hell. Just like Mistwood, the king’s men are confiscating wands and books. Anyone caught using magic is being persecuted.”
Fear flickered across Elizza’s face. “How are we supposed to get there? They’re watching our every move…”
“First, we need supplies.” Erazon shifted his gaze toward the door. “The potion shop is our best bet. If we can stock up, we’ll have a better chance of staying hidden and defending ourselves.”
"Once we have what we need, we can’t stay above ground.” Godric frowned, dusting off his blacksmith apron. “The streets are crawling with guards, but there might be a way into the Guild through the sewers. Back when I was running cabbage under the city, I learned a few routes that aren’t on any map. It’s risky, but it might be our only shot.”
“We have to try,” She said, determination replacing her earlier hesitation. “If we can reach the master sorcerer, he might turn the tide. But one wrong move, and it’s over.”
Erazon took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their decision settle in his chest like a stone. The fear gnawed at him, but they had come too far to back down now. “Then it’s settled. Whatever it takes, we free Orlithar. This is our only chance.”
Without hesitation, Godric reached for his hammer. “Let’s move. The longer we wait, the tighter the noose around this city becomes.”
Faces set with purpose, they moved toward the door. Doubt had no place here; only the mission remained. Together, they stepped into a city that had become a twisted reflection of what they once knew.
Lumi fluttered to Erazon’s shoulder, her wings a blur of iridescent color. “This will be a piece of pie!”
“Let’s hope,” he muttered, a faint smile breaking through the tension.
Carlin’s streets, once vibrant, now lay hollowed out by fear. The air felt thick and oppressive, resisting every breath. They moved quickly but cautiously, sticking to the shadows as they wound through the city. Potential danger lurked around every corner, and each alley threatened to spring a trap. Posters plastered on the walls reminded them of the peril:
“Wands in Carlin must be surrendered to Commander Bradyn at the west gate by sundown, or face imprisonment!”
“This is a no-magic zone by decree of the King! Punishment is imprisonment or death!”
The market district loomed ahead, its usual hum replaced by an eerie quiet. A flicker of hope stirred in Erazon at the sight of the potion shop, one of the busiest places now under guard.
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“Hold up.” He raised a hand, crouching behind a low wall. The group followed, eyes fixed on the scene. A cluster of guards, their armor dulled by the fading light, stood vigilant outside the shop.
A sudden crash of glass shattered the stillness. Green fumes spilled into the street, their acrid scent filling the air. Guards staggered back, coughing as they tried to shield themselves from the noxious cloud.
“That’s Father,” Elizza breathed, her face paling. “He’s always been stubborn, but now he’s in real danger.”
A jolt of surprise hit Erazon. “Akilliz is your father?”
“Aye,” Godric answered, eyes fixed on the shop. “And he’s not the type to back down, even when he should.”
“We need to help him—fast!” Erazon’s mind raced with urgency.
“You’re right,” Godric growled, tightening his grip on the hammer. “He can hold his own for now, but we need a diversion to get those guards away. He won’t last long against those odds.”
“Why don’t we just turn them into cabbages and roll them down the street?” Lumi piped up from Erazon’s shoulder, her irreverent suggestion cutting through the tension.
“If only it were that simple,” he murmured, clutching his spellbook. The leather felt heavier than ever in his grasp.
“We need to act, now.” Godric’s eyes scanned the scene, narrowing in thought. “If we can draw the guards away, Father might have a chance to escape—or at least regroup.”
Elizza nodded, worry creeping into her voice. “We have to move now, or it’s too late.”
Erazon's heart hammered as he focused on the sight of the guards, their weapons drawn, eyes scanning the area. Tightening his grip on the spellbook at his side, he knew it was now or never. A stir deep within him surfaced—something darker, more intense than he had ever felt. A flicker of energy surged through his veins. It was the death magic granted to him by Lord Death, like a coiled snake, waiting to be unleashed.
Another force swelled inside him—the fire magic from Pyridion. It burned hot, hungry, whispering in his ear to burn everything in his path. Clenching his jaw, he struggled to contain the conflicting energies.
Breathing deeply, he reached within himself, his fingers tingling as the death magic writhed against his will, forming a purple glow at his fingertips. Not now. Not this way. He forced it back, shutting his eyes to concentrate.
Warmth radiated from the book in his hands. To his surprise, the pages flipped open on their own, revealing symbols of fire magic. Golden light glowed from the page, casting flickering shadows around him. Fire, yes... but not to incinerate. The magic urged him to let loose the chaos, pushing him toward destruction. For a moment, his eyes flashed with inner fire. No! He gritted his teeth, struggling to resist the violent power.
Another page glowed in golden letters. A new spell revealed itself, bringing with it a sense of control and purpose. Exhaling sharply, he realized this could work.
Raising his hands, he summoned the fire magic in a different way. Five balls of fire floated before him, radiating heat and begging to be unleashed. "Steady," he whispered. The fire within roared, pushing him to burn everything, but he fought back, containing it.
Thrusting his hands forward, the fireballs shot toward the guards, striking them in succession. Explosions of flame erupted, knocking them back. Shouts of confusion mixed with the acrid scent of scorched armor filled the air.
"Now the Mist," he murmured, focusing on the golden spell glowing before him. Raising his hands again, he summoned a gust of wind from the ground. The Mist surged up like a wave, blanketing the street in bone-chilling fog.
To the guards, the fog descended like a curtain of darkness, blinding and freezing them. Shouts turned to cries of fear as they staggered through the haze. But for Erazon and his companions, the Mist opened a clear tunnel, revealing the path straight to the shop's entrance.
"Move!" he commanded. His friends surged forward, slipping through the tunnel of fog. They rushed into the shop, slamming the door shut behind them.
Inside, the Mist dissipated. The guards outside stumbled through the freezing fog. Erazon swayed, his vision blurring as exhaustion hit him like a wave. "We don’t have much time," he gasped, collapsing to his knees.
“Elii!” Godric shouted, rushing to his side.
Elizza knelt next to Erazon, her eyes wide with worry. Akilliz moved swiftly, pulling out a small vial filled with glowing blue liquid. "Drink up lad," he urged, pressing the vial into Erazon’s hand.
Gulping it down, he felt a rush of energy spread through him. It wasn’t enough to fully restore him, but it pulled him back from the brink. Blinking, he struggled to his feet, hands still tingling from the fire magic. “We need to board up the shop. They’ll be coming.”
The siblings secured the windows while the potion master and his resistance pushed shelves and tables against the door. The tension in the room thickened as everyone prepared for the next assault.
Adjusting a fallen shelf, Erazon's hand brushed something within his cloak. He pulled out a small vial, its surface dark like obsidian, streaks of blue lightning crackling within. The warm charge tingled against his skin, sending tiny shocks through his fingertips.
The temptation to unleash its power surged within him. Now? He hesitated, already drained from summoning the Mist. In his current state, he wasn’t sure he could control such energy. Not now. Lord Death said to use it in my most dire moment. Slipping the vial back into his cloak, he decided it was a last resort, something to use only if absolutely necessary.
The barricade shuddered under a battering ram's force. The wood groaned, buckling under the relentless assault. Dust rained down from the ceiling. “They’re going to break through!” Erazon warned, his mind racing for a solution.
Before he could react, Lumi's voice cut through the tension. "Time for a little chaos!" she declared, zipping into view, a blur of iridescent light.
“What are you—?” Erazon began, but she shot him a grin, her wings fluttering rapidly as she prepared her spell.
Lumi flitted toward the door, where the battering ram had nearly breached the barricade. With a quick gesture, she cast her spell. A dark cloud of shimmering dust swirled from her hands, seeping through the door's cracks like a living entity.
“What did you just do?” Godric demanded, eyes narrowing.
“Trust me, you’ll like it,” she chirped with a cheeky grin.
Confusion and chaos erupted outside as the dust reached the guards. The pounding of the battering ram suddenly ceased. Moments later, they heard shouts turning to cries of horror. The guards stumbled back, clawing at their armor as if it were aflame.
“What’s happening to them?” Elizza asked, awe in her voice.
"Death Dust," Lumi explained, fluttering to Erazon’s shoulder. "They’re seeing their worst nightmares. Muahaha!"
Marveling at Lumi’s handiwork, Elizza knew their job wasn’t done. "Erazon," She began, glancing at him. "Can you hit them with fire one more time?" She asked, worry mingling with hope in her eyes.
"I’ll try," he replied, gripping his spellbook. Summoning the fire magic again, he felt less resistance this time. A larger ball of fire formed, radiating heat. Positioned at the door, he readied the spell as Godric waited to open it.
"Now!" Godric called. Erazon released the fireball, which detonated just outside, stunning the guards who had gathered.
Akilliz and the rebels acted immediately. Godric charged out with his hammer, striking with precision. The resistance members followed, wielding wands that were weaker than expected. Yet the guards, already battered, crumpled under their combined assault.
"Bind them!" Akilliz shouted, tossing ropes around the fallen guards. Elizza flicked her wand, casting a light spell that coiled magical threads around the guards, ensuring they stayed put.
Stumbling back, Erazon gasped for breath. His body trembled from the strain of the spells, but the sight of the bound guards brought a flicker of relief. The shop, at least for now, was safe.
Silence descended on the street, a stark contrast to the chaos that had filled it moments before. Around them, wisps of the Mist drifted lazily, like ghosts reluctant to depart. Erazon and his companions surveyed the scene, while members of the resistance, about fifteen in all, gathered outside the shop. Their faces reflected a mix of disbelief and awe.
“That was some of the finest magic I’ve seen in a very long time,” Akilliz spoke first, his voice a blend of admiration and caution. His words hung in the air, drawing the attention of the other rebels.
“Those were real fireballs!” someone exclaimed, eyes wide with a newfound respect for Erazon.
Another added, “I can't do half of that even if I tried,” shaking his head as if to clear the disbelief.
Turning to face Erazon, Akilliz’s gaze sharpened. “Didn’t we see you... die?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.
The question rippled through the group, sparking a wave of murmurs. “Yeah, we did!” a voice echoed. “Are you a ghost? How did you save us?” More questions erupted, each striking at Erazon with an insistence that demanded answers.
Godric stepped forward, his tone hard. "Enough!" he barked. "We don’t have time—"
A raised hand from Erazon silenced him. He looked at the crowd, seeing their eager faces and feeling a knot of uncertainty tighten in his stomach. I’m not a great wizard, he thought. I’m just… me. Clearing his throat, he met their gaze. “You mean... not everyone can do fireballs like that?” he asked hesitantly.
A slow shake of the head from Akilliz. “No, lad. Nobody in Carlin’s been able to cast fire magic like that in generations.” A young woman in the crowd extended her hand, attempting to summon a flame. A tiny ember flickered briefly before sputtering out.
“We use magic in our daily lives, sure,” he continued. “Cooking, mending things, small tasks. But casting blasts of fire? Summoning Mist?” He shook his head in wonder. “That’s something we haven’t seen.”
Heat crept up Erazon’s neck as the crowd stared at him, their expressions a mixture of awe and disbelief. For the first time, he felt the magnitude of what he had done. This wasn’t just simple magic—it was extraordinary.
“Tell us,” a voice trembled with curiosity. “Did you really die?”
He swallowed, his eyes drifting to the ground before meeting the crowd’s gaze once more. “I did,” he confessed, his voice steady despite the weight of his words. “I was... sent back. I met with one of the Nine—Lord Death himself.”
Gasps filled the air, the shock rippling through the crowd like a physical force. The potion master's eyes narrowed. “What did he say, boy?”
“He told me that the master sorcerer of this town is imprisoned beneath the Sorcerer’s Guild,” Erazon began, pausing to gauge their reactions. Disbelief turned to wonder as he continued, “I was there. It’s real. Beneath the Guild lies Orlithar, a great dwarven mage. He’s being used by Wild-Wizard as a power source. And my friend Solena is under his control because of that scythe.” Erazon took a breath, his voice hardening. “I was sent back to free Orlithar, and I need your help.”
“Back from the dead…” someone whispered.
"It’s true," another muttered, running a shaky hand through their hair. “I saw him die…”
Akilliz stepped forward, eyes locking onto Erazon’s with a fierce determination. “Whatever you need us to do, just ask.”
Erazon drew a deep breath, the weight of the moment pressing on him. “Keep these guards tied up until we return. We’re going to free Orlithar, but first, we need a way into the sewers.”
A sharp laugh broke the tension. “You’re in luck, lad,” Akilliz said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Under my shop is a door that leads straight to the sewers. You didn’t think I made all my deliveries through the front, did you?”
A surge of approval washed over the crowd. “You put your neck out for us, lad. We’ve got your back!” one of them shouted.
“For Carlin!” another called out, the rallying cry gaining strength until it became a roar.
The cheers shook the very cobblestones beneath their feet. A mix of pride and resolve reflected in the faces of those around Erazon, as hands patted his shoulder in support. Without missing a beat, Akilliz motioned toward the shop, urgency etched into his features. “We’d best hurry before reinforcements show up—or worse.”
Excitement gleamed in Lumi’s eyes as she fluttered up. "Next time we use death magic!" she squeaked, tiny fists pumping in the air. "Or we can turn them all into cabbages!"
An eyebrow rose at her suggestion, a small, amused smirk playing across Godric’s face. "Lumi, maybe let's stick to plans that don't involve turning people into vegetables."
With a huff, Lumi crossed her arms but quickly settled down. "Fine," she muttered before diving into Erazon's pocket. "But the cabbage idea was brilliant," came her muffled voice as she nestled comfortably inside.
Inside the shop, the floor crunched with broken glass and scattered debris. Akilliz hurried behind the counter, rummaging through drawers. “I’ve got some supplies left,” he said, his movements quick and precise. “You can’t go without these.”
He approached Erazon first, holding out a sleek, polished wand. Its dark wood surface glowed faintly with etched runes. "Here," he said, pressing the wand into Erazon’s hand. "Only the Nine know how you cast those fireballs without one. But let’s see what you can do with this."
He felt the hum of magic as he gripped the wand. "Thank you," he replied, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "I’ll use it well."
Turning to his daughter, Akilliz pulled out a small vial of shimmering blue liquid. “This is one of my last mana potions. You’ll need it. Push yourself, but be safe.”
Elizza took the vial, meeting her father’s gaze. “I won’t let you down, Father,” she promised, her grip tightening around the potion.
Finally, Akilliz offered a stone heart to his son. “This here is a Golem’s Heart son. Break it, and you’ll have the strength of a stone golem for a brief time. It might make all the difference.”
With a firm nod, he slipped the heart into his belt. “I’ll make it count.”
Akilliz’s gaze shifted to his children, his voice wavering with emotion. “I’ve never been more proud. Be safe. I love you.”
The words prompted Elizza to embrace him tightly. “We’ll come back. I promise.”
Placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, Godric added, “Aye, we’ll return, and this city will be ours again.”
“Right.” Akilliz cleared his throat, regaining composure. “Follow me.”
He led them to the back storage room, cluttered with crates and barrels. In the corner, an iron door sat flush with the floor. With a grunt, Akilliz heaved it open, revealing a dark passageway below. “This’ll take you to the sewers. The path isn’t easy, but it’s the only way.”
Erazon, Elizza, and Godric exchanged a final glance, determination gleaming in their eyes. “Stay sharp,” Akilliz urged. “We’ll hold the line here. You find Orlithar.”
A squeeze of his hand was Elizza’s reply. “We have to. We will.”
“We’ll see you soon, old salt,” came Godric’s promise.
A faint smile crossed Akilliz’s face. “Go on, then. The city’s waiting for you.”
Their footsteps faded into the darkness, the iron door creaking shut behind them, sealing their path into the unknown.