Eshika had seen many things as the leader of the Archery Clan.
Descent was a nasty place, but the Front Lines were enough to give demons nightmares. Eshika had been present when Supreme Rot had ravaged the bodies of many a Warlord. Beings seemingly larger than life brought down to their knees, and soon after, their graves. She had watched streams of blood stretch for miles, mountains made entirely of corpses outsizing natural landmarks. The sight of a full legion of fiends, crawling forth from the horizon, still gave her shivers on the truly terrible days of the conflict. Those most testing times, when you were forced to fight from the crack of dawn, into the thinnest whispers of day, and the sanctum of sleep was always a certainty.
A word could only be repeated so many times until it lost its meaning, and yet, despite the millions who had given their lives to the human cause, Eshika never forgot the individual sacrifice beyond each of those dead.
Nobody had ever told her that leading humanity’s armies would be easy. It was a job that required you to stomach the darkest depravities of life, and keep pushing forward when you saw no reason to.
Something in Eshika had always kept her going, a flicker of hope. An earthly warmth that promised her all this suffering meant something. It would be worth it in the end.
But this . . . this brought all of her worldviews into question. That internal warmth wavered.
One foot standing on a hovering arrow, the Archery God-Graced observed the vast archipelago that expanded below her. The generals of the Three Pillars were all gathered together, watching down on the tapestry of destruction being weaved by the Paladins.
The brothers stood on floating blades, unable to disguise their discontent. Gilmat, God-Graced of Swordsmanship, bit tightly into his lip. A drop of Ichor slithered down his chin.
Griffin's beefy arms were crossed, and though his expression was hidden behind a long fringe of hair, his demeanour was not a vote of confidence. Eshika never failed to pick up on his nervous twitches.
“Before the Speed and Time Clan was fully massacred by these ill-named Paladins, I had the honour of conversing amongst their people.” Eshika began, her voice an unsteady presence amid the incessant implosions from below. “I was granted access to several prophecies; grim visions of future realities I could only hope weren’t real.”
Neither brother spoke up. Similar in appearance, similar in their silence.
“But now, as I look down upon this archipelago, the forgotten isles facing what I fear may be its final battle, I realise the significance of what I saw. Everything they showed me, every last detail . . . it’s all coming true.”
Eshika found herself joining in their silence, focused entirely on the sea below.
It had begun on the island of the Bone Clan, the giant spine of some impossibly large beast trailing the entire landmass. Within this bone, what must have been a great hall was chiselled into the skeleton’s colossal interior, all marrow hollowed out to house hundreds of clansmen. Now, Paladins with the touch of Enos invaded those personal chambers, laughing and sneering as they plundered for whatever ancient treasures resided inside.
The surrounding water was immersed by a murky, flaming layer of oil. Ichor darkened the waters that winded and turned between the other isles of the archipelago. It was as if a serpent of flame and blood was attacking the islands, trapping them in a chokehold and squeezing tight.
The Material Congruity were engaging in battle with outsiders, for the first time in known history since they had first fled to the Forgotten Isles. Eshika had heard of a warm welcome before, but this siege of fire and anguish was beyond burning.
Arrows and spiked javelins whistled through the air, streaks of a flickering green slathered across each. The men and women who wielded these weapons were distinct from the bone clansmen, though their appeal was equally alien. Plumes of feathers expanded from their backs, the multicoloured coronas striking Eshika as not exactly great for hiding. The bones of small animals had been turned into crowns that sat upon their heads, and lines of lime-green dye ran up and down their limbs. Eshika couldn’t help but feel a grudging respect for their archery skill. They were rivalling the prowess of even some of her recruits.
Their island was by far the tallest of the archipelago, more of a mountain now that she thought about it. Demonic-looking Paladins, many of them fitted out with crooked wings, flew up to meet their attackers. Each received a barrage of projectiles for their insolence.
Immediately, those unfortunate enough to fall victim to a sharp end went completely still. Like the strings cut out from a marionette, their bodies went limp, descending to the turbulent waters below. Despite some of their wings, none of the shot Paladins could fly, an induced paralysis preventing them from even scrambling for help.
Skulls smashed against the side of the bluff, splashing bodies sent seawater splattering metres high, but it was the eerie silence of it all that most unnerved Eshika. Throats too frozen to scream.
She doubted those Paladins were killed, however. Enos’ had been sure to make his forces quite robust. Regardless, the Venom Clan were not to be tampered with.
It was difficult to watch, but Eshika took the entire scene in. The Archery God-Graced had read the report about the various clans that made up the Material Congruity, so was able to easily recognise the Silk Clan.
Stretching from isle to isle, ribbons connected the entire archipelago. The threads, varying in colour from a dusty yellow to a lively red, hung from precipice to precipice. Like circus acrobats traversing across tightropes, Cloth clansmen sped across the treacherous paths. Paladins soon saw such ribbons set on fire, or cut to shreds, or otherwise reduced to ash, but the Cloth clansmen never lost their fighting spirit. They leapt from ribbon to ribbon, or weaved more of the material like the spindles of the Arachnid Sect. Always slipping from out of the clutches of the Paladins, they soon saw the entire archipelago decorated. It would have been a fitting place to hold the Day of Descension . . . if not for the man currently committing genocide.
Like a star descending from the sky, the cloaked man shined.
His green cloak was beaten and severed in multiple places. The smaller purple of his Divine Right cut through the luminance that enveloped his body, and through the many gaps torn into their robe, the flaming black of a Tainted Mark couldn’t be more visible.
“This is our enemy then.” Griffin spoke gravely. “A mere boy.”
“Ash.” Eshika confirmed. “I couldn’t believe one so young could be spearheading such a large force, but here it is before me. The irrefutable truth.”
Gilmat wiped a waterstone over a smaller blade, over and over again. The man’s equivalent of biting his nails. “This is how Enos uses our youth. Beacons of a more hopeful future, blighted into harbingers of darkness.”
Arriving to the island in their own fleet of battleships right this moment, were the united forces of the Three Pillars. There were thousands of them, exported straight from the front lines to this overlooked corner of Descent. To divert the attention of so many valuable clansmen away from the main threat of the Unbounded, trying to break into the mainland of the Mortal Realms, was a risky endeavour. A diversion of so many men hadn’t happened in centuries. It was a testament to how real the threat of Enos, and his so-called ‘Paladins’, truly was.
A volley of flying arrows and swords surrounded the arriving forces. Eshika and Gilmat’s doing, the combined power of two God-Graced would ensure the Three Pillars were successful in this rescue mission. But what was there to save?
Being retrieved out of the water as they spoke, was a body completely charred. Fumes wafted away from the unconscious man, a Warlord who should have been deceased. Only the occasional twitch of his lips or eyes proved to Eshika that the Bone Sect Leader, Theodore, was alive.
There was fortune in the misfortune. Eshika had noted the aura of power the Paladins were emanating as they sailed to the Forgotten Isles. The Paladins stank with Enos’ influence. She had managed to rally enough forces to intervene, fast enough that they’d arrived before the Material Congruity was completely slaughtered, but too slow to prevent the damage they’d already inflicted.
Now all they could do was prevent the slaughter of an entire alliance.
“This is what they fled from, so long ago.” Griffin realised. “The barbarism they tried to escape . . . it’s right here.”
The entire Archipelago was consumed by the flames of war. Once the Three Pillars had divided into smaller groups, each heading to separate islands, Eshika and Gilmat could finally breathe. Their protective blades and arrows surrounding each squadron trembled in the air, before rushing out to face the nearest Paladins they could locate. Like a swarm of metallic wasps, hungry for Paladin blood.
“Thank the gods we weren’t too late.” Gilmat muttered. “Our forces should be enough to put a stop to . . . “
The man trailed off. Eshika glanced over to what had made him pause, a colossal shadow draping over her.
Dominating the skies, a field of asteroids came zooming down. Ash’s guiding hand led them towards the islands, each colossal rock of space dust primed to smash one of the Material Congruity’s bases. If they were all to strike, the entire geography of the Forgotten Isles would be forever changed — thousands of lives taken in the process.
Eshika instantly transformed, her silver hair vanishing as her body minimised, a golden arrow whooshing through the air in her place. She didn’t slacken to pay attention to what the brothers were doing. Even for a God-Graced’s impossible reflexes, they didn’t have long to act. One second’s hesitation would only increase the death toll.
Eshika’s spirit could manifest as a volley of arrows, in addition to complete mastery over the airborne weapons. However, the more projectiles her spirit inhabited, the more spread thin she became. One arrow would definitely be enough to destroy one of Ash’s asteroids. There were currently six smoking up the atmosphere. She could rely on Gilmat and Griffin, but as the best long-distance fighter here, Eshika had to pull her weight.
Her one arrow split into three. She channelled Infinity through the thin bodies of wood, the sensation the same as if she was pushing power through her standard form of flesh and bone.
The projectiles were as strong and swift as lightning, a yellow crackling steak trailing behind Eshika. A mere half-second after the asteroids had first entered the skies, the Three Pillars saw them annihilated.
Griffin had smashed one meteor with a rapid punch, whilst Gilmat had sliced and diced the remaining two. Nothing but smoke remained in the air, as the Three Pillars of humanity’s army stared out for Ash’s previous location.
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There was nothing.
A diversion. Ash had known he could never face three God-Graced all on his own. At his current power, Eshika could sense he was only approaching peak Warlord, or perhaps an extremely weak God-Graced. The entire attack had been a ploy to save his own hide.
“He slipped away!” Eshika screamed, outraged.
“Enos’ stench.” Griffin said, sniffing the air. “It lingers around his last whereabouts. Enos must have pulled him to safety.”
Despite their master deserting them, the Paladins hadn’t lost their fighting spirit. A united force of clansmen from the Material Congruity and the Three Pillars had already formed, pushing the invaders back towards the shorelines. Sparks were flying, a cacophony of screams pervaded through the air, and dead bodies sank into the hidden depths of Descent’s oceans.
With the arrival of three God-Graced, the Paladins didn’t hold out much longer. Eshika let her rage manifest in her techniques, imbuing them with a carnal ferocity. Through the frantic pool of spite and loathing her brain seemed to be soaking in, one thought accentuated her anguish. This attack on the Forgotten Isles had proven her worst fear.
Nowhere in the Mortal Realms was safe from the stakes of the Celestial War.
It brought the wishes of the gods behind the Three Pillars into question. Eginhard the Ascended, deity of Swordsmanship, Gunther, god over Martial Arts, and her own goddess, Gwendolene. All three of them had once been mortal. Bows, swords, and martial arts were each human creations. When the time came for the three war heroes to ascend, they had all agreed on one priority: the safety of humanity.
What three clans the deities had heralded from mattered not. Their living symbol of unity was what was important; what was remembered: tangible proof that humanity could look past their superficial allegiances, and be united in their existential struggle.
They had never cared about claiming authority over Infinity for themselves. That’s why children from the Three Pillars always had the choice of what sect to join. That’s why the Three Pillars were the most stable alliance in all of Descent’s history, free of scheming and power-hungry ploys. And that’s why Eshika held such pride in the fighting force at the very frontier of humanity’s fight for survival.
Yet safety was a fallacy. In a world crafted by the gods for bloodshed, moulded with Infinity to be their perfect battleground, to think you were ever truly safe was ludicrous.
Eshika focused her spiritual senses. Due to her affinity over archery, she was able to easily recognise different effects she could attribute to her arrows. If she so wished, she could imbue her projectiles with the worst kind of toxins: concoctions that cause the body’s nervous system to shut down, or the flesh to melt and boil over your bones.
The Venom Clan’s toxins, however, caught her eye. Their subject of power would allow them to create the most deadly of poisons. Together with her arrows, the combined power of venom and archery would be unstoppable.
For a moment, Eshika began to hope that some good would come out of this situation. Perhaps a new union that would unite the Material Congruity with the rest of the world for the first time in aeons.
Then one of the islands blew up.
Steam wafted from one colossal pit where an isle had sat, mere seconds ago. The pillar of thick grey fog was like an arm reaching out for the heavens, tangential waves of white encircling the mass. Eshika’s spiritual senses were screaming out at her, her eyes widening as a whirlpool splashed and swirled over the dead island.
There, seeming to stand on top of a churning mass of water, was Ash. But Ash only in name. His cloak had vanished, his tunic nowhere to be seen, but where a muscular torso and upper body should have met Eshika’s gaze . . .
Filling the outlines of Ash’s musculature was a dark void. Yet less a void than it was a snapshot of space, the ethereal purples and blues of distant galaxies swirling within the man. It was as if Ash encompassed a shred of the universe, the celestial makeup reaching up to his mouth, leaving his brooding blue eyes, and flickering black hair untouched. On his forehead, having changed locations, the purple emblem of his Divine Right glowed faintly.
His Tainted form, and Astral Influence working in tandem. Pushing Ash to a new degree of power.
There was no need for the Three Pillars to communicate — as one, Griffin, Gilmat, and Eshika pounced.
They surrounded Ash on top of the water platform, individual powers blazing. A volley of arrows surrounded Ash, projectiles stretching across the entire archipelago. Twin blades were poised against his neck, keen to draw first blood. Gilmat’s fist enlarged, becoming a bulging red mass of muscle and sinew ready to flatten Enos’ puppet.
Alas, the trio was stopped in their tracks.
Kneeling ahead of Ash, seemingly unable to move, were the sect leaders of the Material Congruity.
Ash smiled, the void of planets and stars widening above his chin in a crude mockery of a sneer. “Why the hesitation? You’ve got me.”
Eshika’s walls of arrows were twitching in the air, ready to impale the boy from a trillion directions. She couldn’t. It made the Ichor ruining through her veins boil into steam, but she just couldn’t.
Closest to her was the charred body of one particular clansman. Theodore.
How he could even remain conscious in that state was beyond Eshika, but the Warlord huffed and puffed, his ashened lungs desperate for any molecule of oxygen. The other leaders of the Material Congruity were in no better shape.
The Cloth Sect leader had a normal body of muscle and bone, only for silk threads to reach out in place of arms and legs. His face was seemingly mummified, wide, petrified eyes staring out of a cast of ageing bandages. Manacled wrists led to a burning strand of rope, s lick of fire gradually creeping forth, ready to devastate the sect leader with the same treatment as Theodore.
A woman with verdant hair seemed to be trapped by invisible confines, struggling in place with her teeth bared. It was disturbingly like watching a wild animal infected with rabies. Ultimately, her fighting proved fruitless. Eshika could sense the stench of Enos surrounding her, as Ash seemed to hold the woman in place by will alone.
Last, but by far the most gruesome sight, was a spiked woman of crystal. Her glimmering form was fractured all over, rivers of Ichor bursting out. The glowing liquid had the added effect of illuminating the Warlord in a tortuous halo, and even with the infallibility of her God-Graced eyes, Eshika couldn’t bring herself to look at the woman’s glaring edges.
Four leaders of the Material Congruity, chained up like dogs. Ash was threatening to kill them all with one streak of power. If the three of them so much as moved, the Forgotten Isles would be without their leaders.
“Think very carefully about this Ash.” Griffin commanded the boy. They had all read up on the child's file, prior to this encounter. The image on his profile, the one Eshika’s researchers had shown her, was a far-cry from the ugly shape Enos had bent and twisted him into.
Another innocent child caught in the crossfire.
Sweat wetted Gilmat’s cheek. There was the chance that they could slay Ash on the spot. To kill the boy before he blinked. But that was a chance. And if Eshika knew anything, it was that gambling with lives was never a good idea.
“What are you after Ash?” Eshika asked. “What do you want?”
Ash spat at her feet. “For you to leave! You have no business here. This land is beyond your petty laws. Your sense of right and wrong means less here than the ground we fight on.”
The sect leaders could do little to communicate. The way they were eying the three of them however . . . it chilled the marrow in Eshika’s bones.
Ash paced up and down in front of his hostages, gesticulating madly, hands becoming a blur. “This is how the rest of Descent sees you: as freaks!” There was more Unbounded than boy in the way he spoke. The words were like monsters of their own, worming their way out of Ash’s mouth, slimy with spite. “When did they ever offer you friendship? They knew the hardship you faced, they knew you had fled out of terror. Yet only now, when I extend my arm out to you, do they finally seem to give a damn about your existence. Wake up!”
Before Eshika could scream at the boy for his foolishness, two terrible things happened at once.
For one, that rope connected to the Cloth Sect leader began to burn with a greater ferocity, a lit match falling from Ash’s fingers. Next, clumps of rock materialised around the group, zapping links of dark energy between them. Infinity flooded through the atmosphere, slapping Eshika in the face and sweeping back the silver and blonde locks of her hair, as if they were suddenly immersed by a furious gale.
“Leave.” Ash’s voice suddenly sounded distant, like was speaking from far above. “Or else I’ll drag my little companions up into space. I wonder, which of them will last the longest? I don’t know what will kill them first: the cold, or the oxygen deprivation.”
Ash’s threat was bold, but it was not a lie.
With shaking arms, Eshika raised two balled fists. A bow appeared in her grip, its metallic sheen reflected in the high sunlight. With nothing more than a thought, she could place an arrow upon its string, draw the thread backwards, and pierce Ash right between the eyes.
She imagined Ash’s brain exploding in his skull. She replayed the image over and over again, a film reel jammed. The prospect was appealing, and yet Eshika was forced to double take at its violent depravity. It was as if simply being in close proximity with a servant of Enos casted dark clouds over her thoughts.
One impulse, however — one attack — and this terrorist would be out of their hair. Forever.
If only things could be so easy. In doing so, Eshika would cost them the lives of four Warlords. The Material Congruity would be left without a figurehead. Leaving their people easy for the taking. Coerced into serving Ash, or if the boy didn’t survive the arrow, Enos. With the Paladins’ assault devastating the clansmen of this archipelago, these hurt and lost people would have to bend the knee to someone.Otherwise, a nation as fragile as that would simply be butchered in the chaos of the Celestial War.
Wishful thinking supposed that they would rally behind the Three Pillars. Logic warned of just how persuasive Ash could be. Dead or alive, the man’s words would live on. And he was right, god damn it. The people of the pangea had done nothing to support the Forgotten Isles. The residents of the islands were left to fend for themselves. But in a world of war and betrayal, perhaps that had been the better option. Simply one that didn’t stand to serve them now.
With tears of frustration welling in her eyes, Eshika allowed the bow to disperse. Fragments of light danced through the air, and all traces of the weapon were gone.
“Eshika.” Gilmat blurted. “You don’t seriously plan on agreeing with this man’s ter-”
“We have no-!” Eshika cut off her own childish outburst. “I-I’m sorry. But we have no option. We’ll have to lose this battle. But the war . . .” Eshika shot her most icy glare at Ash. “Certainly isn't over.”
Griffin opened his mouth, as if about to protest, before promptly clamping it shut.
The Cloth Sect leader trembled frantically, the flames now inching closer and closer to his threadbare limbs. Ash did nothing but stand back and watch, and for a terrible interval of time, Eshika feared the worst.
That Ash was going to kill them regardless of their decision.
Finally, like the final word of a god, Ash snapped his fingers.
The fire disappeared, and so did the four Warlords. Ash gone with them.
The heavy sun overhead disappeared, rumbling storm clouds creeping over. Eshika was too numb to feel the coolness wash over her shoulders, as a mild drizzle poured down.
None of the Pillars spoke a word. The sloshing of turbulent waves smacked against burning shorelines, and Eshika knew it was time to withdraw their force. There was no option now but to comply: the entire Archipelago was at risk of falling under Enos’ rule if they lost the islanders' trust by allowing their leaders to be killed. Of course, it would be easier than ever for Ash to beat them down into submission without them present, but the most they could do now was plan for the future.
Twenty minutes later, the three of them were flying away from the Forgotten Isles with their soldiers sailing below. Silence was a tangible dark cloud enveloping each of them. To speak was to acknowledge their devastating defeat, but Eshika couldn’t deny reality.
“There’s somebody we need to see.”
“Who?” Gilmat questioned. Hope was a tangible presence, binding his words together. “Can somebody help us?”
The wind swept through the locks of her hair, hiding her disgruntled expression. “The only person who can help us.”
Eshika wanted nothing to do with that woman, but she was left with no choice.
“Juniper.”