Martin left his carriage at the gates and walked past the city wall. He walked a bit down the stone road before he saw Navir and Fadrique. His heart dropped, remembering Dalius’ warning about getting a Graduate bodyguard. He’d have to do that soon. He wasn’t sure how he felt about waiting with these two men.

He approached, and Fadrique glanced at him before looking back toward the sky. “I didn’t know Tolomon called us all.”

“The letter seemed urgent,” Navir said.

“Just waiting on Cristoval and Dalius, then?” Martin asked.

“Yes,” Navir said. “It might take them a while. I haven’t sensed them leave their home yet.”

“You should suggest Dalius leave Cristoval at home,” Martin said. “He doesn’t have to bring him out here at this time of night.”

“I shall give the suggestion,” Navir said.

“Any idea what this is about?” Fadrique asked.

“Something about Indenuel, I’m sure,” Martin said.

Fadrique frowned, then put his hands out as though to steady himself before looking toward the heavens.

“Fadrique?” Navir asked.

“I…” The man stared at the four stars above them. “There’s a lot of people altering the weather right now.”

Martin glanced up to see clouds forming at an impossibly fast rate over the center of the city.

“What does it mean?” Martin asked.

“Something is burning,” Fadrique said.

Navir unfolded his arms, a look of alarm on his face. Martin was about ready to ask him if he was alright until he sensed it too. This was more than a gathering of corruption. He sensed the pain, the kind he hadn’t felt since the Day of the Devil in the Cathedral.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye and Martin turned to see a branch drop down, and Indenuel landed softly on the earth next to them. Fadrique, Navir, and Martin instinctually took a few steps back.

“Oh shit,” Fadrique whispered as Indenuel pulled out the Warlock’s Staff.

Martin’s chest turned hallow. He stared at Indenuel, took in the boy’s anger. The raw hate blackening his eyes. Navir placed his palm flat against the tree nearest him to cleanse the tree of corruption.

“What did you do.” Navir’s voice was much quieter than before, but still held authority.

Indenuel smirked. He had his hand on the center of the staff and spun it to a better fighting stance, and Martin’s hallow chest felt the vibration of corrupted power.

“Indenuel, no.” Despite everything in his soul screaming at him to run away from such a corrupt individual, Martin still took a step forward. “Please tell me you didn’t make a pact with the devil.”

“I made a promise to make sure his darkest subjects go to hell tonight where they belong,” Indenuel said.

“My conscience is clear,” Navir said.

“The devil thinks otherwise. And in the end, his opinion is all that matters.”

Martin held his hands out, trying to control the chaos of pain emanating from Indenuel. It was unfocused, for now. Indenuel wasn’t trying to break through their containment. “Please. Let us wait until Dalius and Cristoval get here, and then we can talk.” It was the way Indenuel smirked that caused Martin to remember he had a heart in his hallow chest, and it broke. “No.”

Navir threw his hands forward, blocking whatever power Indenuel had almost used. Fadrique did the same, and Martin instinctually blocked all the corrupted pain he could feel. Martin backed away, finding himself between Navir and Fadrique.

“It never should have come to this,” Martin said.

Indenuel glared at him. “And whose fault is that? Who stood to one side and did nothing as the corruption in the High Elders festered? You didn’t do enough to prevent it. Now I must end all of you.”

He took his staff in his two hands and pushed with all his might. Martin gasped as the pain tried to break free, but he deepened his shield. Beside him, Navir and Fadrique did the same. Indenuel continued to push, testing the limits of their powers as sweat broke out on Martin’s forehead.

Indenuel watched them carefully. He studied Martin’s face, then Navir, before his eyes finally rested on Fadrique and the smirk returned.

“Don’t listen to whatever he says, Fadrique,” Navir said, his voice straining with effort. Dalius wasn’t here to block the demons. Who knows what information they were feeding him.

“You are going to hate hell,” Indenuel said, glaring at Fadrique. “No woman will be allowed to touch you down there. Garen doesn’t need to torture you to make you miserable. He just needs to take away your ability to have sex.”

Fadrique glared. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just have the demons conjure up the memories of the first time I had sex with Inessa.”

There was a vibration in the air. The pain became deeper, and Martin wrestled to keep a shield over it. “Stop, Fadrique,” Martin whispered.

“I will remember every curve, every crevice, every noise she made. The demons will try to make me regret how I raped her, but I will enjoy every moment of it.”

Indenuel’s glare was murderous as the pain grew. Martin was terrified he wouldn’t be able to keep the shield much longer, and with this much pain, none of them would survive.

“That will be the difference between her experience in hell and mine. We will remember the same memory, but I will relish every experience, and she will be tortured all over again.”

Indenuel moved forward fast. Again, Martin instinctively backed away, hardly containing the pain emanating from the staff. Fadrique tried to move, but Indenuel brought the staff down hard toward Fadrique’s head who barely dodged it. Indenuel must have known that Fadrique only needed to touch it to be possessed. Martin tried to go help, but he was having a hard enough time keeping the pain inside the staff.

Indenuel whacked Fadrique in the face, breaking his cheek. Fadrique gasped, touching it before Indenuel went again to hit him, but this time Fadrique grabbed the staff. He gasped, then tried to remove his hand, but it was stuck.

“Fadrique!” Navir shouted.

Martin watched Fadrique’s body start to convulse. He was hardly able to stand except for the grip he had on the staff, where he could not let go. Indenuel glared at Fadrique, though still a wide smile on his face.

Fadrique’s eyes rolled up to the top of his head. He let out a raspy gasp before he finally let go of the staff, collapsing to his knees. Martin tried to reach him, but Navir held his robes to keep him back.

“Don’t touch him! You’re not a speaker of the dead. It will just carry over to you,” Navir said.

“I’m a healer. I must try,” Martin said, breaking out of Navir’s grip. He dropped to his knees, touching Fadrique’s temples. His body was in a complete state of chaos. He tried to calm it, but the soul was swiftly breaking away. If Martin had his full power, he might have succeeded, but he was still divided, trying to block Indenuel’s corruption to keep them all alive.

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“Martin! Get away from him!” Navir shouted.

He opened his eyes to see the whites of Fadrique’s eyes turn black. The shaking of his body stilled as the guttural noises calmed. Martin got up, hastily backing away.

“Fadrique?” Martin asked. It was far too quiet.

The man grabbed his face, clawing at it, tearing his flesh. Martin’s eyes widened. Fadrique gorged his own eyes out, and Martin had to look away, the shock coming over him. The man continued to tear at his flesh, snorting and screaming until he grabbed a stick and rammed it through his throat. He let out a gurgling breath before he fell forward, the stick diving deeper into his throat, killing him.

Martin covered his mouth, holding back the need to vomit. Indenuel spun the staff back to a fighting position. He smiled as a torrent of freezing rain descended on them all. Martin returned to blocking the pain. Navir had his foot up against the tree, his hands out.

“Indenuel, please! Stop this!” Martin said. “You are doing something you will only regret in the next life!”

“Never stopped you, did it!” Indenuel shouted through the downpour. “The only regret I have is I don’t have the power to bring Fadrique back to life so I can watch him kill himself again!”

The Indenuel he knew was gone. This man was going to kill them all, and he was going to win. Martin’s breath came out in puffs in front of him as the temperature plummeted.

“Stay strong, Martin,” Navir whispered, keeping his hands out. “The military is on their way. I alerted them the moment Indenuel touched down. Help is coming. We just have to hold him.”

For a small moment of time, Martin was comforted, until he realized what Navir meant. More men. Coming here. In the nighttime. To face Indenuel alone. After he suffered great losses.

“How many are coming?” Martin asked. Navir said nothing, the realization of Martin’s question hitting him. “Navir? How many men are in the army here in the city. Are five hundred soldiers coming?”

“I… I don’t know,” Navir said.

Martin searched his memories, thinking there couldn’t be… not five hundred.

The Graduates were still in their three month training. There had to be at least a hundred of them here. Nathaniel would throw open the doors and empty that building to get Martin all the help he could. There were at least four hundred soldiers who would be alerted. This was it. This was the final battle.

Navir gasped. He dropped to his knees, throwing his power as hard as he could into the ground. The sky lit up with lightning. Martin looked toward the heavens to see twenty lightning bolts, frozen in time just beyond the tops of the trees, all of them aimed right at Navir and Martin. Navir sucked in air, using every ounce of power to keep the bolts away from the trees. More lightning came, freezing just above the line of the trees, and Martin stared at his certain death right above him. It was almost as bright as the midafternoon sky.

Navir let out a scream, and the lightning bolts turned away from them. They were drawn toward a tree thirty miles away, and every bolt of lightning hit that tree. Martin covered his ears as the explosion rocked the world. Navir collapsed to the ground, sucking in air, his entire body trembling. Martin kept one hand toward Indenuel and threw his other hand in Navir’s direction, healing power soaring into the High Elder. The anxiety and weariness fled as soon as it touched him. Navir got to his knees, again blocking the corruption.

“Thank you.”

Martin’s nod was short and grim. With Fadrique, Dalius, and Cristoval dead, Indenuel would have unimaginable power over demons and the weather, but they would have to do their best.

“Despite Fadrique hating hell, you, Navir, are going to love it,” Indenuel said.

Navir closed his eyes and bowed his head, keeping his focus on his power. Martin was weakening. He could feel it. He couldn’t shield Indenuel’s pain for much longer.

“You’ll be able to talk to the other false prophets and exchange experiences. You’ll be able to figure out the mysteries of the past. You won't even need heaven. Why would you need heaven when you have the puzzling mysteries of hell to keep you occupied for all eternity?”

Navir said nothing, looking weary to his bone, but managed to get out a smile. “You’re too late.”

Indenuel frowned, then he turned his head. The army had come. Martin ran his eyes over it, trying to count for himself how many there were. Nathaniel might be in that group. If Martin could get to his son, he could order him to retreat. It wasn’t worth it. Indenuel had killed over a thousand people before he was marked. This would be an easy victory for him.

“What is this, an army of…” Indenuel narrowed his eyes, then a smile spread across his face. “Five hundred and seventy-three.” Indenuel laughed before he levitated into the air. Martin winced, knowing that was only possible with an enormous amount of demonic power. “My dear Santollian soldiers,” he shouted, making sure his voice carried to them on the wind. “Do not bother trying to stop me. Understand I will kill the High Elders tonight, and I will also kill anyone who stands in my way. You know the story of me destroying the Kiam army. There is less of you than there were of them. If you want to live another day, go home to your families. If you try to stop me, you will die. I give you my promise.”

Three dozen arrows launched into the sky directly toward Indenuel. He brought his staff in front of him and spun it impossibly fast. All the arrows around him were deflected. Martin backed away from the few stray arrows that made it past the impossible shield Indenuel produced.

“This is my final warning,” Indenuel called, the staff hovering next to him. “I will give you time to leave. There’s about seventy-three of you that want to, I’d wager. Go now if you do not wish to die.”

The army began to move. Martin couldn’t tell if some left, but something told him some did. The army circled around Indenuel as he waited, the rain lashing against him. Martin moved into the crowd of soldiers, not sure if they knew the death sentence they gave themselves.

“We block the trees and the pain,” Navir said next to Martin, once again kneeling to the ground and placing his palms flat against it. “It’s the only way they have a fighting chance.”

Martin nodded, tears in his eyes as he kept Indenuel’s pain shielded. “Nathaniel,” he said to one of the soldiers. “Is Nathaniel my son in this group?”

The soldiers mumbled to each other before the one turned back. “Yes, sir. He is.”

Martin wanted to swear, but instead he said, “Bring him to me.”

The soldier nodded, passing the word along. The trees hadn’t broken yet. They could still pass messages.

The rain turned into a snowstorm, then into hail. Tiny shards of ice whipped Martin’s face as he kept his focus on shielding the pain. Indenuel ran forward into the army, his staff outstretched, and his slaughter began. The men fought with swords, but Indenuel blocked every single blow. He whacked soldiers with the staff, many of them collapsing to the ground, convulsing in pain, their bodies trembling before they opened their black eyes and began turning on their friends. Martin’s stomach churned and he looked away. He tried to imagine they could win, but it had barely begun, and he already gave up hope.

This was the final battle. A battle that had been predicted centuries before, one he had read over and over in his years as a High Elder, and yet he never imagined it would end like this.

Nathaniel appeared, and Martin gasped in horror. He didn’t want his son to be here, and yet here he was.

“Father? You asked for me?”

“Go home!” Martin shouted in the ice fall, keeping his hands open and making sure Indenuel could not use pain. “Grab as many men as you can and get out of here!” Nathaniel looked confused before grabbing Martin’s shoulder and pulling him aside to fight a man with black eyes, disarming him quickly and skewering him through the chest.

“I won’t, Father. I must stay and protect you. I cannot abandon my men,” Nathaniel said.

“He is too powerful! Get your men and get out of here!”

“Indenuel is one of my men,” Nathaniel said. “I can try and talk some sense into him.”

“No, Nathaniel,” Martin said, tears in his eyes. “Indenuel’s sold his soul. It’s over. It’s done.”

Nathaniel lifted an arm, looking through the ice storm before grabbing the sword of the fallen man and handing it to Martin. “For if you need it. Protect yourself, Father. I will do what I can to stop Indenuel.”

Martin shook his head. “To stop him means you must kill him. We cannot risk capturing him and having him escape again. He must die tonight. Can you do that?”

He moved Martin again before battling another man, his movements fast and sharp before he stabbed a man through the heart. “Looks like I will have to kill many men I consider friends tonight,” Nathaniel said, the pain in his heart heavy. “Stay safe, Father. Stay alive.”

Martin nodded as Nathaniel moved with a group to help combat a large army of black-eyed men. Martin felt the desperation hit his chest. No one survives this conflict. Indenuel will stand victorious over everyone.

Martin solidified his shield, keeping the corruption contained as he tried to see through the blizzard. The battle had moved, and Navir was still next to him, exhausted. Martin threw more healing power in his direction, strengthening Navir to help him keep going.

Indenuel appeared out of the blizzard right next to them, staff ready. Martin blocked the staff with his sword out of desperation, keeping him from touching it. Indenuel gave him a humorous look.

“Keep the trees safe, Navir,” Martin said as he went to make a strike against Indenuel. The staff blocked Martin’s blow as Navir nodded. Martin tried to shake the memories of his youth, tried to remember the basics of fighting. It helped little. Martin did his best to protect his skin from the black staff. Indenuel’s eyes were pure black with hatred. Martin had never seen this skill from Indenuel. The boy blocked every blow before fighting him with sharp movements, almost anticipating his moves. Martin shivered in the cold, his hands turning numb, but he pressed on. He fought Indenuel with skills he had long since forgotten as he tried to block the pain at the same time. Behind him the troops were fighting amongst themselves.

Martin was so focused on keeping the staff from touching his bare flesh that he didn’t notice when Indenuel punched him right in the eye. Martin gasped in shock, and the shield blocking the pain dropped for long enough. Indenuel threw his hand toward Navir.

“No!” Martin threw the shield back over. Navir was still standing, and with a flicker of hope he believed he caught it in time. Navir’s eyebrows furrowed. Then his insides exploded out of every hole in his body.