Quest In The Absence of Light

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren and Fèlen walked a narrow path filled with webs and graves, some even cracked, the flow of dark magic that emanated from them being easily noticed in the air, scratching at the pair as the air got even more cold. A slow laugh was heard, echoing from beyond the deep burrows of the crypt, growing in sound as they both stepped inside another room, this one now with a single tomb at the center.

Next to it was the cloaked man, his eyes burning with blue flames. Even in the dark, his evil smirk was clear as he lifted his arms, the whole place beginning to shake like in a earthquake.

'You stomp on sacred ground, feet dirty with sin. Why do you not fear the embrace from beyond?'
​

The voice from deep within the crypt spoke again, as if it was right there, next to them. As their very sights were blinded with a burst of light, Aldren let the torch he was carrying fall to the ground, runes on the floor beginning to be lit with the fire. Suddenly, he felt a crack inside him, the protective wards from Fèlen breaking as the runes' magic flowed inside him, stunning him for a second.

The wait was deadly, but after the moment of desperation, nothing happened. Aldren looked around, confused as to why nothing had happened and how he still felt the same as before. That's when a hand creeped to his shoulder, a man appearing next to the pair.

"I didn't take you for a frightened pup, Cordale. What happened?", the familiar tone stung at his very heart, Aldren instantly recognizing the man beside him as his eyes widened in shocked, fixed on him.

His clothes were different from the ones he used to wear, but that scar over his right eye and the elegant beard gave it all away. Riss, his dead master.

"R-Riss?", the question came muffed, his eyes still refusing to believe what was in front of them. He touched the man's arm, realizing that he was of flesh and bone, and not some spirit or illusion.

"You fool. You disgrace our Holy Order by bringing this dark being here!", the man spit out his harsh words while looking at Fèlen, pointing at her afterwards.

"There's nothing dark about her. She's a friend!", Aldren disagreed, loudly. Not a second later, he was faced with a blade inches to his neck, Riss' eyes alit with the same magical blue flames from the cloaked man, his own dark magic working to creep onto Fèlen and keep her at bay.

"You failed again, boy. But there's a chance to undo all of your mistakes. Take this and kill her, put an end to this darkness and we will walk free!", Aldren stuttered as he listened to those words, every ounce of happiness inside him after seeing his old Master now obliterated. He looked at Fèlen, eyes filled with desperation. A moment later, he now held the blade against the nymph, arms tense trying to hold it back against a unknown force that kept it close to the woman, trying to control Aldren's very movement.

"Kill her, boy! Do not fail me again!"

"I... won't!", with all his strength, Aldren tapped into his deep magic, eyes shining white as a wave of force echoed through the room, releasing them of their dark shackles and allowing Aldren to take control of his body again, swinging the blade around and driving it into Riss.

The very fabric of reality of that room seemed to waver and break as the illusion was defeated. Aldren now held no blade, and there was another mercenary's corpse at his feet. His eyes were with tears, and his heart was relieved to see that he and Fèlen were still alive. And for that short moment, they felt as if the air was lighter, as if there was no dark magic around.

'The door opens, little ones... Come and face me...'​

Until the voice was heard again, and another burst of light took place, now opening another way across the room. Aldren grew impatient with all those illusions, stepping with purpose towards the door to the next test.

 

[Fèlen]

The crypt was large, damp, and filled with unspeakable darkness. Torchlight guided them down a path that was preconceived and dangerous, eager to add more lives to the growing number of the dead that haunted the halls. Their steps were wary and cautious, the halfling pausing at the entrance of a private chamber, stationed with but a singular tomb where the cloaked figure stood ominously next to it. She felt her feet move for her, pulling her into the trap, her clutch upon her torch growing tight enough to cause a paleness on her knuckles.

Her magic was obstructed, no longer protecting Aldren against outside forces and plaguing their minds with an illusion. Her breath caught as her form grew rigid, his false mentor encouraging her death at Aldren's hand. It was a struggle to keep her focus, barely able to comprehend what was happening before she felt the chill of steel at her throat, pale brows furrowing with fear and confusion. Her gaze pleading.

Aldren's resolve was strong, his own magic forcing away the shroud that showed them lies. The voice called to them once again, urging Fèlen to grasp at Aldren's arm before they continued on.

"You should wait here and allow me to go first this time." Her words were breathy with strain. She did not know what they would find in the next area. Would Aldren continue to be the victim of these dealings, or would she be next? She was fearful of what would happen should her own mind be corrupted even further, of whether her willpower was as strong as Aldren's, or whether she would strike at him as she feared before they had even departed.

She did not allow him to respond, pushing forward to continue ahead of him, her torch held forward to light the way.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren started to feel his head dizzy, glimpses of what transpired only moments ago now coming back to haunt his mind as he watched, many times over, the blood of his master on his own blade. A cruel mirror of reality, one that had bits of truth to it. Were not for Fèlen's approach, Aldren would've kept dwelling in his own melancholic thoughts, her figure next to him keeping him warm through the ever chilling halls and dark crevices of that endless maze, until she tried rushing ahead, heavy with worry for his safety if they were to encounter another room of illusions soon.

He reached forth, grabbing the nymph by her arm and pulling her back to closeness, pausing for a moment to gaze upon her beautiful eyes, eyes that kept him sane throughout that suicidal endeavor. Still, after recent events, Aldren started to doubt his own mind.

"Wait", he said in a low tone as he grabbed her. "I don't know what manner of dark magic plagues these halls but..."

Aldren paused, weighing his words before pressing on with his heartful request.

"If it somehow seizes me again and puts you in danger... Leave me behind. I could never live with myself if i hurt you, so you might as well kill me and get out of this place. Promise me, Fèlen."

The tender moment didn't last long, as a loud screech was heard through the hallways, the walls altering in their form to reveal yet another hidden room, this one with a striking resemblance of the Templar Temple. They heard steps approaching, and not before long a man revealed his presence. Aldren's eyes widened as he beheld his own image, only with different robes, indicative of a full pledged Templar.

"Oh, the warmth of love... I can scarcely remember a time where i felt that... I envy you, Aldren and Fèlen", Aldren's 'clone' said with a smirk, only his voice was very different. It carried a tone fit of a spirit, loud and imposing, like striking at the walls and bending the very crypt to his will.

Before Aldren and Fèlen could react to it, the spirit held his hand forward, making them pause.

"Fret not, little ones. I come as friend, even in such way. This rotten place has been both my home and my prison for centuries, and as such, every... visitor must be judged by my will."

His words somehow soothed their souls, bringing them a sense of calm and relief that escaped them since they first set foot inside the crypt. The man stepped forward, closing his distance to the pair.

"You meddled in affairs beyond your ken, but in doing so, you've been presented with a chance to save countless lives."

He walked over to Fèlen, gazing upon her with eyes filled with pity, almost as if he could feel her pain, her soothing nature being torn and corrupted by that dark place. "Such strong willed magic... I sense your father's traits in you, child, yet you didn't give in to the darkness around you. Fascinating."

The man took a few steps back, now facing both of them. "I am the spirit bound to this place. In your tongue, i am known as Dur'val, brother of Ur'trend, the Ender."

His eyes began to lighten and burn with the same blue flames as before. Not long after, his skin started to melt along with his clothes, revealing the true nature of his spirit essence, demon in form but possessing a different feel than other demonic forces.

"My brother sought to destroy this world, and absent the power to kill me, he bound me to this place for eternity. Eventually, he was defeated and imprisoned as well. Yet, The Pandemonium ripped open the veils that held him at bay, and now he corrupted and twisted other beings into perfect obedience, his pet slaves and his way to come back to this realm and conquer everything."

The room started collapsing as Dur'val's magic took hold, his arms waving and dancing as he dabbled in his primal powers, altering the veins of reality to conjure another door, another path to be followed if they were to get to the end of that place. As the spirit began to fade away, and yet his voice remained, scratching at their heads once again as the eerie feeling returned to haunt them.

"I cannot help you more than this. Venture further and defeat my jailor. Free me and i will help you in saving this world. But fail... and you are doomed for eternity."​

 

[Fèlen]

He interrupted her interruption, grasping at her arm and pulling her back before she even had a chance to move forward, repeating her own words from the camp back to her. The irony was so potent she couldn't help but chuckle darkly, shaking her head as she pulled away from his touch with more force than necessary.

"Do not ask me to grant you a courtesy that you would not honor me with." She argued, any tenderness he felt in that moment was one-sided, her gaze leaving him hastily as she returned to the task at hand. Death was not something she was ready to welcome, and it had not been a suicidal request that she had made when his words had come from her own lips before. She believed she would make it out of these catacombs, she just didn't know if he would as well.

She found herself back in the familiar setting of the temple, though it was free from the injured and wounded she had been treating for days. The illusionist who played with their minds finally revealed himself, stealing Aldren's face to masquerade as an ally. The relief of his magic brushed along her and swept away, having no hold against the madness that fingered her mind. Anger that was not her own found shelter within her, begging and pleading to be freed, nudging her towards corruption.

His words meant little, if anything at all, to her, unwilling to trust one who would mimic the face of another to earn affection even without the violent inklings in her mind. He opened yet another path, briefing them on his own imprisonment, encouraging them to remove his shackles.

Her teeth gritted, shaking her head to try and clear the extra voices.
"Are you understanding any of this?" She asked, frustration evident in her tone.
"I do not feel as if we should free a spirit just because it is threatening our lives."

 

[Aldren Cordale]

"I don't think we have much of a choice now", Aldren said before he hastily picked up one of the nearby torches to illuminate the path ahead, the pair going ahead through the narrow and tomb filled halls of that bleak maze. As they went on, Aldren started to notice a change in the patterns of the walls, with a few now bearing strange markings and ancient paintings along. The paintings seemed to be of a millenia ago, with places that now were filled with cities and other constructs, of a time that the world was a vast emptiness.

They came to halt facing one such wall, depicting some sort of demon worshipping cult and their strange ritual, a ritual that was familiar to them. By the runes carved on the ground as stated in the painting, it certainly looked like the ritual they encountered on the forest. The other runes on the walls carried a strong demonic feeling to them, the ultimate proof of the devilish grounds that they were in. Even if his intentions were honest, the spirit from earlier was indeed a demon.

Still, it came as a relief that they ceased to hear his taunting voice, as if the darkness had stopped to follow and creep up on them, giving them room for breathing after everything that happened.

In the distance, fires could be seen from afar. Aldren placed his hand on his sword's handle, looking at Fèlen as if he was expecting a fight ahead. Slowly, they made their way towards the room, encountering a half open door in the corner, with the presence of a few men in cloaks talking in strange words.

Aldren recognized one of the words, though -- Ur'trend.

He nodded at Fèlen before taking a step forward from his cover, the door fully opening to reveal his arrival. The men stopped their ritual, staring them with eerie smirks. The stranger in the front finally turned, even in the darkness Aldren recognizing him. The Temple Master that banished him.

His voice was stranger, but yet carried the same creepy and spiteful tone. "You survived... Now that is wonderful indeed."

"Lady healer... Interesting company you keep. I never knew you were fond of traitors". He glanced over at Fèlen, lust evident in his eyes. Aldren clenched his fist harder with each word he spout out. Eventually, he took out his sword, preparing himself.

"You are a devil worshipping traitor! But your plot ends here, by my hand...", Aldren said, the anger clear as he gritted his teeth and gripped his sword tightly. The man laughed, accompanied by his lackeys.

"A pity you arrived too late to stop me, then. I already have what i came for...", as he said that, the Master surrounded himself with dark power, blood claws grasping at his servants and ripping them open, spilling their blood all over the floor. As their robes were ripped apart, Aldren saw them for Templars, no doubt corrupted to do his own bidding. A blast staggered the room and everyone in it, Aldren barely managing to shield himself from the dust, only to find that they were the only ones there, with the Master having vanished from their sight.

His laugh echoed throughout the room before a huge hole opened at the center, huge and malformed hands crawling and making their way out of it. Aldren got himself in front of Fèlen, taking a few steps back along with her as the creature unveiled itself from the gaps of the underworld.

The demon that guarded the spirit from before was now revealed, and his growl was enough to send shivers down Aldren's spine. All he could do now was brace and prepare for the fight.

 

[Fèlen]

She continued to follow him, no longer trying to take lead as it was obvious that he would not allow it, deeming her worth protecting rather than allowing her to protect herself. Her gaze did not linger long on the paintings that adorned the damp hallways.

She recognized the false templar, as well as the leer in his eyes that seemed to look beyond her clothing. She could take advantage of his attraction, as seduction was an art she was well-versed in, however, the barrage of the dead would not allow it. They demanded their comeuppance, her presence their only opportunity and they would not let it slip them by.

The arguments of Aldren and the cult leader did not reach her ears, whispers having grown into full screams that she could no longer ignore, the force that followed the Master's blood ritual sent her back and into the wall, a grunt leaving her as the impact with the cobble knocked out her breath.

Soft, delicate, and beautiful. She had a gentle soul and a kind heart. Her actions had shown generosity and self-sacrifice that most were unwilling to give. These core values were slowly slipping away, with every step deeper and deeper into the throes of death, she was losing herself. It was with the appearance of the gruesome demon that she was finally able to let herself go for the madness to reign.

The torch fell from her limp grasp, hands clutching at her head at the insistent pounding that plagued her, tearing into her psyche to overtake and consume it. A guttural scream escaped her lips, pained and cracking before her hands dropped and a silent calm became her. Her head lifted with a wicked smirk, steel eyes clouded and milky without vision.

"Awake O Dead, for there can be no rest beneath the earth. Let cold fingers grip time-worn blades, and unseeing eyes survey the fields of slaughter. For your time has come once more. And the dead shall walk." As her words spilled the room became full. Apparitions that were previously only visible to her own eyes gained the corporeal forms they so desired to enact their vengeance on the living. They were abundant in the crypt, eager to gain back what was lost in death as semi-translucent forms appeared around the room, Fèlen their gateway to the living world. Six of them filled the small area, doing her best to not allow all of the spirits to reign.

The smile on their faces mimicked Fèlen's own. Bloodlust piercing through hollow eyes. Their ghostly screams pierced the air, eager and free to enact their own onslaught upon the world. They did not hesitate, their otherworldly arms readily sweeping towards the demon as they rushed in, menacing and vile.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

The demon stood tall, a imposing figure of sheer might and unspeakable monstrosity that towered above them, reaching halfway to the ceiling of the crypt. His eyes burned with a red light as saliva flowed from his half open and malformed mouth, the rows of fangs acting as teeth for the creature, his deadly weapons along with his evident strength, his arms twice as big as Aldren, who looked on, focused and prepared with his sword at ready in front of him.

As he prepared for the monumental battle, Aldren began to sense the shocking waves of magical energy that crept onto his skin, so powerful it was that almost staggered him for a moment. He looked to his side, eyes widening in shock as he saw Fèlen unleashing a much darker magic than he had ever seen before from her. Her spell was strong enough to unbalance him and cause the demon to pause his imminent advance for a second, as a small horde of undead spirits were given form through her will, their ethereal arms swinging wildly as they ran towards the demon, grasping all over him.

If only under better circumstances, Aldren would've relished in the newly given opportunity to strike at his foe, but his gaze was solely focused on Fèlen and how taken she was by the dark forces that finally managed to take hold of her, her once beautiful and sweet smile now something twisted into a evil smirk, much similar to the ones the spirits attacking the demon had.

As he motioned to try and dissuade her from such practice, the demon threw his arms around, trying to throw the spirits off him. If not for Fèlen's powerful magic, he would've succeeded with ease, but even so, the demon rushed at them. Aldren skillfuly evaded with a quick roll to his side, letting the demon pass him head on towards a nearby wall, smashing it open. There was only darkness through that wall, as if there was nothing material on the other room. For a moment, Aldren thought he was under another illusion spell, but as the demon caught him off guard with a swing from his gigantic arm, the pain he felt as he was thrown to another across the room was evidence enough that he wasn't daydreaming.

Kneeling and in pain, Aldren coughed up a bit of blood as he tried to support his body's weight on his sword, head facing up towards the demon that now attacked Fèlen, fortunately being brought to heel by her powerful spirits. Now given to his own magic, Aldren's eyes gleamed with power as he charged ahead, his speed enhanced to inhuman heights as he slashed across the demon's descending hand, blocking his attack altogether.

He spinned in place, a quick movement to try and strike at him again only to end up having to defend himself against his power attack as his claws reached across Aldren, a magic shield rising in front of him that was easily shattered by the demon's attack along with his own sword. Aldren was thrown a few paces away, still alive thanks to his lucky defense.

Aldren slowly crawled away and leaned against a nearby wall, his body now drained of strength thanks to the use of his magic and filled with pain as his hand tried to stall the bleeding from the deep cut across his ribs, a gift from the demon.

As his consciousness slowly faded, Aldren watched on as Fèlen battled against the creature, worried not for his life, but fearing that he'd be losing the woman he loved to the darkness that gnawled at her.

"Fè...len...", was the last thing he managed to whisper before passing out.

 

[Fèlen]

Even as the demon imposed over them, Fèlen remained in one location. Unmoving and quiet. She did not see the danger they were in, her thoughts overrun with the satisfaction of those she had risen and their desire to kill.


They swarmed the demon, clinging and stabbing at it with ghostly weapons from their previous lives. They paid no heed to Aldren for the moment, instead, focusing on the more devious enemy. The mighty hellbeast roared, flailing around, his arm connecting with Aldren to throw him across the room as well as shake the majority of the small spirits from his form.


He reared, fiery eyes training once more on the halfling as he hulked forward. Her spirit servants wailed as clawed hands gripped her chest, skin breaking as the clutch of the large hand smothered her slight form, demonic digits enveloping both shoulders. Its palm crushed her breast, lifting her easily from the ground as menacing jaws widened, rearing for the final blow.


It never came. Fèlen was back on the ground, the clutch of the demon loosening though it did not leave her, despite being severed entirely from the rest of the demon's body. A new spirit had appeared, hulking and massive, in each hand it held a wicked axe, one of which was now plunged into the ground, dripping with the demon's toxic blood.


This spirit was unlike the others, one that haunted the half-nymph constantly, its whispers only heard in moments of dire need. Chains wrapped around its bulk form tethered to each of Fèlen's wrists in subservience. The silent gift she carried on from her father.


The infernal creature wailed, stumbling back at its new injury before its snarl turned to Fèlen's newest guardian. There was no time for the demon to respond, the previous spirits rallying to cling and grasp at their enemy whilst the large spirit raised both axes high above its head before driving them down, directly at the demon's head.


So strong was the force that wrecked the hellbeast, its entire body crumpled, following the will of the axes down to the ground, silencing it forever

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren slowly opened his eyes, instantly feeling the pain that ravaged his body after being thrown around like a doll. His head turned a few times, searching for Fèlen and widening in shock as he glimpsed at her also pained and injuried state. The carcass of the demon laid at the center of the room, close to the hole it came from, that now was shut with palpable darkness, as opposed to the magical veins that grew from it when he emerged. He sighed in relief, that even though they were badly bruised and battered, the battle had been won and they were still alive, if barely.

Another wave of pain wrecked his body as Aldren motioned to move and get up, with him now remembering he still had a nasty and open cut on his ribs, which, to his luck, had ceased bleeding. He put his hand over it, feeling it get soaked with his blood as he moaned. If it weren't for his magic shield, surely the demon would've sliced him to bits with those claws. A powerful creature indeed, fit to guard an even worse spirit.

Aldren feared the choice he still had to make ahead, the one concerning the ancient spirit that was bound to that crypt. Even though Fèlen already seemed to be against the idea, and it surely looked like a foolish one, he saw it as the only way possible.

With cries of pain and struggles, Aldren slowly got up, his eyes fixed on the fallen nymph and her injuries, his heart heavy with worry. He possessed a bit of magic, but not of a healing nature and certainly not as powerful as her. He knelt next to her, gasping and moaning again. His bloodied hand caressed her face as his gaze went through her wounds, desperate for not knowing what to do.

"Wake up, please...", he begged, his voice low and faltering. He almost jumped with fear as the walls seemed to crack, another howl coming from down under, from the hole that was still open near them. Aldren felt the balances of magical forces shifting throughout the crypt, a sign that the unknown forces that were housed there were starting to be set free.

In that moment, Aldren knew they had to pick up their paces and carry on, as wounded as they were, if they had any hopes of getting out of that cursed place with life, even if it meant freeing an ancient and powerful demonic spirit that claimed good intentions.

 

[Fèlen]

He had now seen what she was capable of, the darkest parts that she was ashamed of. The spirits continued to tear at the unmoving demon, yearning for more bloodshed whilst the largest of her ghouls pulled the severed hand away from her chest and threw it to the side. It kneeled before her, axes discarded to grasp at the chains that bind the two before its body dissipated into nothing.

Aldren's voice could not reach her, his touch did not warm her. Her hazy gaze stared through him. His movements had drawn the attention of her apparitions, their rotted and broken teeth snarling at him, hesitant. There were no allies among the living, save for the halfling that acted as a gatekeeper for them to walk again.

What she had truly feared would come to be. His resolve would be tested, her plea for him to leave her behind becoming more prominent as it was not what they would find in the crypts that she had feared, but what she would summon. The spirits' hindrance did not last long, as a screech escaped one, the others mimicking it shortly after and the three that remained swooped towards him with killer intent.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Aldren looked on, stunned as Fèlen's spirits that were protecting her a few moments ago were now charging at him, their ethereal weapons aimed straight at him. His body was still battered and wounded, and with no weapon to defend himself, Aldren was forced to dodge and run from the spirits as he could as they chased across the room. He had all but forgotten about the cut to his side as the adrenaline kicked in, his screams from the distance begging for Fèlen to wake up and release them from such nightmare.

One of the spirits managed to cut him just above his shoulder, his cloak now slowly beginning to be soaked in blood, along with the drops along the way as he continued to run. He had nowhere to go, the doors were all strangely shut after the demon's death, even the one that they passed after entering the room. And Aldren wasn't about to just leave the nymph behind like that. He had to fight, even if it meant dying, and by the looks of it, it sure looked like he was about to meet his Maker.

Another spirit managed to surprise him, grazing his leg and causing him to fight over and moan with pain as he felt the heavy effects from his open wound on his side. The creatures now towered above him as he lay down, weapons raised in expectation to bring down his doom.

A thing that never happened, as the walls once again cracked with a unknown force that assailed the whole room, making the very spirits tremble at such power. As the veins of pure magic began to appear as vines all over the walls, the spirits looked back at Aldren, their shock clear as they realized the power that grasped at them, causing their ethereal forms to be reduced to ash. Another howl came from below, one filled with agony and despair, clearly felt upon Aldren's skin.

He gasped, searching for air after the whole room calmed down, the magic veins now slowly dissipating as the hole on the ground vanished, as if there weren't one there to begin with. Aldren looked puzzled, relieved for being alive but confused as to what might've saved him.

Aldren slowly got up, making his way towards the halfling, his heart still heavy with worry. The pain that wrecked his body now forced him to his knees again, as he once again felt his strength failing. As he reached for Fèlen's arm in hopes of waking her up, Aldren caught sight of a presence next to the door across the room.

Another spirit, but of a different nature. His face was shrouded with a hood and there were blades all over his body, as if he had been pierced a thousand times. Fire hovered above him as he stepped ever closer, leaving behind a trail of pure magical energy.

"And so you appear...", the spirit voiced, deep and threatning as he gripped one of the many swords at his waist.

 

[Fèlen]

His blood would stain the floors, spilling from wounds and gashes made by their thirsty blades to bring him into the abyss of death, to join them in eternal suffering. The spirits hungered for it, eager for another to be part of their ranks as they hovered over Aldren, ready to strike. But just the demon had been unable to tear into Fèlen, so too were the spirits refused, their forms dissipating back into lonesome just before any strike could land.

Another scream ripped through Fèlen, hands clutching at her head as the spirits warred at her, angry and repulsed by the door that the presence of the demonic spirit had closed. They clawed and tore, begging for release. Her anguish was palpable as she staggered to her feet, a cold sweat dampening her brow.

"Let us go!" Her voice mingled with the many others that barraged at her mind, demanding and frustrated as her grip turned onto the spirit that subdued her, enforcing her will onto it as its hand clasped at a blade.

 

[Aldren Cordale]

Still battered and bloodied, all that was left for Aldren was helplessy watch the maddening darkness that had taken grasp of Fèlen, transforming her once suave beauty into a hollow and twisted self, her screams echoing through the room as her power reached forward to grip the spirit who stepped onwards to meet them.

He paused a moment, his skeletal frame being grasped by Fèlen's darkness where it stood, being eclipsed by her corrupted magic, unable to fully take out his blade from his waist. In turn, Aldren screamed at her again, a foolish attempt to bring her back to reality, before the ethereal mists, taking a greenish color, started drifting away from the spirit, the very ground upon which he stood beginning to crack, as if under extreme pressure, due to the struggles of force taking place.

"Child of light and dark, you steer too far from your way...", he said in his monotone and creeping tone, just before he fully took out his magical blade, its primal power cutting the air and gushing forward another howling wind of unspeakable might, enough to stun both Aldren and Fèlen.

Now, his own energy eclipsed that of Fèlen, his previous shackles now partly removed to unleash his great power now serving to hold back Fèlen's darkness, blocking out her magic and staggering her. By his own magical affinity, Aldren too felt the effects of the bondage, feeling the magical energies inside him being slowly sapped away, as if he was being nullified and shadowed by the power coming from the spirit.

"The time nears. You must open the final door..."

Aldren could only watch, moaning in pain and gasping for air, as the spirit talked. Dur'val was almost free.

 

[Fèlen]

A gasp escaped now-pallid lips as yet another force knocked the halfling back. Mist receded from her vision, subduing the encroachment of angry spirits as she looked wildly at her surroundings. Silent wounds now howled, her features contorting in pain as she grasped at bloody shoulders, hissing as she looked at the crimson that stained her hands.

She staggered to her feet, the thread that held her hair proving too thin and releasing the many silver strands to fall around her whilst she lean against the wall for support. She looked on as the spirit spoke, regaining her breath as she waited for the 'final door' to appear.