Quest The Revolution of Vel Anir

[Roul]

ANIR SQUARE

A cacophony of movement followed Luther’s smiting of Isaac, almost too quick to follow, as Dreadlords fought at a pace that echoes the fury of gods. Earth shattered around Luther, beneath him. Cobblestones gave way and his feet sank into the rubble.

The Blacksmith came for him, her warhammer humming through the air, only to be stifled by a furious assault from Karcus.

Luther reached out to ward off the incoming blow, realized he had tried to use his nonexistent right hand, and cursed. Cursed his frail body. Cursed his frail mind.

Only the war magic of his forefathers could avail him now. And Karcus had bought him precious time.

He began to gather the ambient energies of the storm.

The war hammer came down at him again from on high, aiming to shatter his skull. Luther stepped backward, fell in the rubble, twisted as he fell and the war hammer caught his right pauldron and shattered it. The metal squealed as it burst, the bone beneath fracturing in half a dozen places. The force of the blow sent Luther rolling. Every jolt against his shattered shoulder agony. But he had lived in agony. How many of his bones had needed repair after he fell from the high tower? More magic than blood seemed to flow through his veins.

The Urahil scion came up on one knee, face cut and bleeding from the tumble through the rubble.

He gave the blacksmith a scarlet smile and pointed his sword at her. Lightning lanced forth, crackling tendrils that hissed and spat as they raced toward her.

A dazzling display.

A wonderful distraction.

Now Karcus.

Talus Karcus Thorn

 

[Zana]

Anir Square - Heading West​

Jaya's corpse hit the cobbles beside her sisters with a squelch.

The Dreadlord who had been turning guards into candles met her gaze as she raised it and hastily put out the flames in his hands. Her eyes flickered to the sigil on his chest: Sirl. Her lips curled up in disgust; even now it was hard to not let those old wars between Houses cloud her mind. In that moment, however, her displeasure had little to do with the House he supported but which side of the rebellion he fought on. Landon's words distracted her and some of that ice she had allowed to freeze her heart to do what had to be done began to thaw.

Talus. Sloan. Bella. Leona. Countless friends and family were still out there and fighting for their cause.

"Right," she nodded and began to turn away from the corpses and Sirl Four Level Dreadlord towards the other end of the square where explosions erupted and shouts filled the air. Zana took two long strides then fluidly bent to pick up Jaya's fallen spear. In one fluid move, more like a dancer than a fight, Zana spun and threw it with all her might at the Dreadlords chest, adding just a little nudge with her TK to drive it home.

"Let's go, I think that's Bella," her walk turned into a jog.

* * *

Luther Urahil Karcus Thorn Landon​

 

[Ania]

They had been fighting Dreadlords for the past hour now. One moment they'd believe the threat to be over, their platoon would press forward, and then the next a dozen Dreadlords would just materialize. Seemingly out of thin air. By this point they had dwindled to a singular, 'he,' and Marco was exhausted and desperate as he realized he was the lone guardsman to survive.

Marco grunted and sank to his knees. The end of his spear was coated in crimson and a gash on his upper arm stung with a sharp pain. How had the Dreadlords just appeared like that? How had they been so easily slaughtered? They were supposed to be the finest warriors in Vel Anir but by his count the guard had just cut down as many of them as they had of his squadron.

In the distance, and quickly approaching, was a female figure. She had long black hair and was adorned in the garb of the Anirian Guard. Based on the insignia she was a Commander, outranking him by several steps of the ladder.

"Ma'am," Marco called as he steadied himself up, "we were ambushed. Need to report it to the generals, Dreadlords just appearing out of no where."

He motioned his arm around him to show her the enemies they had slain but he noticed only his fallen comrades. None of them were marked by the colors of the Dreadlords. The spot where the last Dreadlord he had felled wasn't occupied by the fiery red haired vermin but instead Sergeant Erica laid there. Motionless with a spear-shaped hole through her stomach.

"You're safe now," the raven haired commander said silently as her thin sword ran through the last survivor of the Anirian Guard's West-Central detachment.

Ania's clothes shimmered and in the man's dying breath he saw her for what she was. A Dreadlord that now made her way towards the commotion of Anir Square. She'd quell whatever else lay before her. She'd see to it that these traitorous heathens were all put to the blade before nightfall.

 

[Aisling Weiroon]

Virak Estate
Elise Virak

Aisling normally would've been dismayed to see such a sudden embrace from Elise. Even though they were old friends and cared for one another deeply it was a bit out of her character. But in that moment, after weeks in house arrest, the Weiroon noble couldn't help herself. She hugged Elise back just as tightly and had to cement her eyes shut to stifle tears of joy.

"I'm as well as one can be I suppose."

There were a thousand questions buzzing around in her head. Was the Virak family in tact? Had Elise heard anything of her own kin? What of Val or Conor or Melinda? They'd likely lost family and friends this day, she just wasn't sure who yet.

Unfortunately now wasn't the time to ask as Elise Virak confided her difficulties with the blonde corsair. Aisling's frown matched her noble friend's and she grasped both of her hands in her own. "I'm here. We're both safe now." She forced a smile but the concern didn't leave her emerald eyes. "What sort of choice did you have to make?"

It was a question asked without judgement, simple curiosity lined her words. Because Elise was correct that it had been a difficult day. The fact that she had to say it out loud meant that something had happened and the dread that welled up in Aisling over what it could possibly be was practically boiling over.

 

[Elise Virak]

Virak Estate

For a few seconds Elise seemed to freeze when Aisling asked after her choice.

A spike of guilt ran through her as the deception of the moment came upon her. Aisling was her friend, one of the few she had in this world. They had known each other for years, they had gone through troubles and joys all the same.

Yet Elise knew that she had to use her for her own aims. It was the only way for her House to survive, the only way for Virak to make it through this. The Crimes of her forefathers were too great to do it any other way. Her eyes closed, and she took a shaky breath. "I..."

She stammered.

"Let...I can't..." Teeth sank into her lower lip, and she turned away slowly. Her fingers did not unfurl from around Aisling's, and slowly she lead her friend through the halls. They moved quickly, passing tapestries and great statues, moving past shuffling servants and Soldiers.

Eventually they reached a set of heavy wooden doors, each one carved with a depiction of one of the ancestors. Elise pressed her hand against the door, pulling one palm away from Aisling...and then pushed her way through.

On the other side of the doors sat the sitting room, a massive mix of a library and plush furniture.

In the middle of the room was someone...something that Aisling would recognize. Elise's father lay on the ground there, a knife still resting in his throat, now dried blood on the carpet beneath him. Elise stared at the corpse, her face twisted in a mix of horror and despair. "I-I had to...he was..."

She bit her lip.

"He was threatening to..." Elise shook her head and turned away. "I had to."

The words were a bare whisper, and an utter lie.

The corpse that lay upon the floor was not her father, no. That body had been eviscerated two weeks ago. The man upon the floor was a peasant, brought to her by a servant, his flesh shaped and twisted by her own magics. A copy so exact that even the best of healers would not be able to tell. Every detail put in place by the hand of a loving daughter.

 

[Sloan]

Anir Square

As her own spear stopped dead in the air, Sloan readied herself, gathering her energy as she watched the weapon turn away from it's intended target and point toward her instead. The very air around her rippled with energy as she drew in the heat from the flames, the fires around her slowly dousing as she leeched from them. She'd have to get closer to steal from him..

The sight of the eyes that covered the archon's flesh was nothing short of nightmarish, and Isbrand had visited her nightmares on many occasions. If she lived to see this through, she had no doubt in her mind that this wouldn't be a sight she'd easily forget. Her expression paused as she took in the sight, breath catching in her throat though she suppressed the shudder conjured by the ghastly spectacle and steeled herself.

Her arms lifted with a grimace of pain as the spear came hurtling back to her, her shield thrown up only just in time to shatter the weapon in it's path. She glanced toward Talus and Thorne and the dark tendrils that slithered their way toward them.

"Get him up!!" she ordered Thorne as she started to move. She focused every modicum of pain and rage into a purposeful stride toward the monstrous dreadlord, gathering the energy around her into something solid which she threw toward him with iron force and a scream of exertion, intent on crushing him to the ground and every eye with him.

 

[Ademar Acero]

A shame his fist did not break her face, only instead it was redirected to her forearm that suffered his force, before she disengaged and took distance from him. He wasn't sharp as a strategist to optimally command armies. Normally, any soldiers under his command would rush into assault with the best hopes of securing victory; however, close quarters with a foe or two all to himself was the glory he lust for in war. It was too obvious her pattern. Strike fast with accuracy and retreat. All he could do was assume her angle and counter her attack.

"Not a dog, you whore; but a mountain."

And the mountain never bowed to anyone.

He dislodged the war pick and broke it in half and still without a weapon in his hand, but his body was a weapon. Dirt was thrown into his face, somewhat blinding and yelled in annoyance which allowed Evangeline to grab his hammer. A perfect opportunity for her to take advantage, but he had his own counter. Ademar could absorb matter to his body how he saw fit, but he could manipulate matter to his will. His hands touched the earth below him and should Evangeline approach him, the earth would quake and rumble around them. His attempt to trip her.

 

[Zana]

Anir Square

One sweep of the scene before her and the vision hit her like a war elephant.

* * *​

Isbrand walked towards Sloan with a slowness that suggested he was enjoying every second of her fear and pain. A cruel smile cut across his face despite the blood that smeared across one half of his face, caking a few of the eyes on his torso shut as it dried. He didn't stop or divert from his path as he stepped over Thorne's body with its unnaturally twisted neck, and his foot broke Sloan's last spear in half as he trod on it. All the while an odd, rasping chuckle seemed to come from him.

"You could have been so much more," he sighed. Sloan desperately wriggled back. One of her legs was little more than a bloody ruin but she tried anyway to get to her feet. There was still fight in those eyes and that seemed to amuse Isbrand all the more. "Such a shame. I think I'll stick your head next to his on Traitors Row," he mused, lifting the thing he had in his hand.

He carried Talus head by the bloodied ends of his blonde hair. The stump of his neck still dripped blood despite the black searing along his already decaying flesh. His mouth hung open in a mockery of his last scream and his glass eyes seemed to still see the horror of his death even now.

"You'll make a fetching set, don't you think?"

* * *

"NO!"​

 

[Yrael]

A heaving, ragged breath ripped through him as he awoke with a start. Total darkness surrounded him, and all sides were bound by hard, jagged rock. A animal panic took him as he tried to remember where he was, what had happened. Deep breaths now, calm. Gods, how they hurt. His chest felt like fire just to inhale the stale, dusty air of his prison.

Memory of the battle came flooding back. Eric was dead, Ulf and the knights almost certainly crushed beneath the hall’s roof. Artur and the King... he didn’t know. He must know.

Yrael tested the stone above him. A gentle mental push was not enough, so he tried more, then more. He must have been under a monumental amount of debris. Placing his hands on the rock above him, he grit his teeth and groaned under the exertion of a sending a single, focused bolt directly upwards. It was not wide enough to free him, but he managed to carve a small tunnel towards the light. The fresh air on his face was rapturous, and he faded back to darkness for a minute.

Freeing himself involved far more effort and pain that he cared to admit, but finally he stood, unsteady and breathing heavily, upon the ruins of the throne room. The ceiling had completely caved in, and Yrael stood at the base of a massive wound carved into the palace, greeting the sky and hearing the high winds tearing past.

The stone orb that had sealed the king was gone, as was the Archon. A battle for another day. Yrael had to make his way into the city, he had to find Zana and the leaders of this rebellion. Painfully, he started to run.

 

[Aisling Weiroon]

Heartbeats quickened as Aisling saw the despair on her friend's face, as they passed through various chambers and hurried beyond distraught servants. The noblewoman took in a deep breath as the heavy doors parted. She stepped into the luxurious sitting room just after Elise.

When the daughter of Lord Virak spoke the corsair had to focus her green eyes. Something lay in the middle of the room and the image was so surreal that she wasn't certain if her vision was deceiving her. It was like a blotch in a painting or a mirage in the desert. Elise's ragged words and distress are what called Aisling back though, as she realized this wasn't some deception or game.

The head of House Virak had been slain. By his own daughter's hand.

"Oh Ellie...," her words were soft and comforting as an arm drifted across the other woman's side.

They had both grown up in a cruel realm with harsh fathers. While Aisling couldn't imagine that her father would ever threaten something so awful as to require this level of violence she honestly wasn't able to rule it out. It was shocking that Elise's own kin would wish her harm but not so bizarre as to be unquestionable to anyone in the know.

Gripping her friend tightly she continued speaking in a shushing tone. "It's alright. We'll figure this out. You had no choice." Aisling Weiroon wasn't going to lose one of her only friends among everything else that she and the rest of Vel Anir were losing today. "You... you said it yourself, you had to. I'll vouch for that."

 

[Talus]

Anir Square


His head was swimming, aching. As he pushed himself to his feet he could feel his stomach churn. Vomit passed from his lips and spilled onto the ground, the stench of it echoing up to his nose. Lips curled for a brief moment, but he glanced up in time to hear Sloan shout.

Then suddenly his gaze darted towards those odd tendrils.

Eyes popped wide open, and then a second alter his entire body flickered. His ghostly form darted back, rushing through the broken rubble of the square as those tendrils reached out and smashed the ground where he had stood a second before.

Each rock they touched seemed to disappear, dissipate, as if a single point of contact was enough to turn them to dust.

Talus dodged them as quickly as he could, rushing from side to side, moving quickly.

A pulse seemed to ring through the air, a sudden jarring pulse, and then a figure appeared behind the young Dreadlord. It was not Isbrand, not a man, but something else. It let out a guttural sound, a rabid wolf dying, and then it lashed through Talus' ghost like form.

The young Dreadlord expected it's hand to pass through him, not to touch him, but instead the shadow like figure struck Talus harder than a brick. It sent him flying to the ground, crashing against the earth with a crack of bone as the wisp reached into the ether.

Isbrand laughed.

It was a cloying sound, one that seemed to echo through the rain and thunder that echoed out above them. His head buckled upward, the eyes set within his skull closing as those buried in his flesh watched after his victims.

They seemed to look everywhere at once, peering towards Talus, Thorne, Sloan, even those that were quickly approaching.

Under the Archon's gaze everyone would soon fall victim. "Come then! Come the-"

His words died in the air as a sudden pressure wrapped around him. The force of Sloans attack bit into his words and ended his taunt, a grimace flickering over his features. Hands suddenly squeezing shut as his muscles flexed and his veins showed beneath his skin.

A quiet strain set in upon him, the blackened wisp above Talus disappeared, the tendrils thrusting towards Thorne slowed.

Then suddenly the eyes upon Isbrand's flesh all seemed to turn towards Sloan.

There was a pulse, the air around him warping, and suddenly a burst lashed out from The Archon. Three of the eyes upon his flesh snapped shut, closed as their magic was lost and Sloan's attack was thrown away. A grimace pulled across his lips, and then Isbrand stepped forward.

His hand stretched outward, curling. A force pressed upon Sloan, the weight of the world itself crashing down upon the First Level Dreadlord. Gravity grasped and clawed at her, grasping at her flesh and desperately attempting to pull her to her knees.

Isbrand stalked towards her as nature itself lashed her down, a purple eye upon his neck pulsing as gravity grasped her. There was no taunt this time. No lashing words. There would be none.

Just death.

Sloan​

 

[Elise Virak]

Virak Estate
Aisling Weiroon

"I had to." Elise said with a shaky voice, though they were not speaking of the same thing.

In her heart of hearts the Head of House Virak knew that this had been the only way.

She would never have been able to do it else wise. She would never have been able to convince them. With Aisling's word it would be easier. With Val's? With Val's she might even come off looking as a hero. The deception hurt her, pained her.

Most wouldn't have believed that.

They would have called her a monster, a liar, and she might have been. But she wanted to live. She wanted to make it through this new world. She wanted to bear the weight of House Virak. She wanted to see her House in this new Vel Anir.

That would have been impossible without this lie. She could throw herself on the mercy of the people, she could not claim her innocence. Not without this.

So she had to. She had to lie. Had to create this deception.

She had to. "I-I've ordered the House Guard to support the Rebels, my Dreadlords too, b-but some of them..."

Elise frowned.

"Some of them have not seen kindly upon this." A fact she had known of weeks ago, but would now take advantage of. Those Virak dreadlords who did not support her needed to be purged. Whatever system these rebels created, those who betrayed her could not be allowed to survive. "I-I don't know what else to do, Aisling."

 

[Sloan]

Sloan reached out for anything she could to build her strength, her blood still flowing freely from her wounds, the energy she used - substantial. Her hands splayed by her sides, the fires around her reducing to the charred remains of whatever they'd been feasting on, it was enough to keep fighting.

She had taken another step forward when she felt that grip take hold of her, rooting her in place and pushing her toward the ground. Her shields were useless to it, and she wouldn't waste the energy resisting. He'd want to get close to her to kill her, he was that sort, he'd rather feel a body break with his bare hands than do it from a distance, he'd rather hear the last breath pass her lips.

A pained cry worked its way free of her throat as she went with a grimace to her knees, the force of his magic crushing the very air from her lungs.

"Come on, you big ugly bastard." she growled, wheezing as she dragged what air she could into her lungs, her fingers curling around the broken spear at her side.

 

[Talus]

Anir Square

Bella moved fast, faster than she should have been able to. Her feet danced across the broken cobbles, the hammer she held in her hand suddenly twisting and reaching forward.

The crack of lightning that had split the air itself flickered, and then suddenly caught the heavy stone of her sledge.

It rushed over the thick stone, runes carved into the head flickering with a bright light. Electricity crackled over the forged rock bending and jumping to the ground as Bella drew the hammer back. A smirk touched her lips as the sledge fell back to her side.

She looked at Luther with a smile.

Then darted forward.

Three charging steps were taken as she before she bounded into the air. Her boots kicked off the cobbles, and the hammer swung down. In one quick strike the heavy weight moved forward and smashed into the ground. The lightning Luther had sent towards her bounded, and then arced out towards the undead Dreadlord.

It twisted through stone directly toward him.

Talus pushed himself up from the ground a third time.

Blood dripped down into his eyes, he could feel the ache of cracked ribs, a bone jutted out just left of his forearm. Pain lanced through every bit of his body, a heavy throbbing agony that clung to every muscle and fiber of his being.

The young Dreadlord wavered slightly as he stood, his head lulling side to side. Fingers scrambled for the broken sword, barely picking it up as the odd shadowy silhoutte stepped over towards him. It seemed to tilt it's head as it approached, watching, staring.

"Co-" Talus spat blood. "Come on then."

He said, letting the hilt of his sword rest just barely in the crook of his fingers.

For a moment it seemed as though the silhouette would not move again, and then suddenly it burst forth. Almost in mimicry of Talus' earlier steps it lurched forward, rushing at the young man as a blade seemed to draw from it's very palm.

It lashed out, cutting low to slice into Talus' torso.

His steps quickly took him to the side, body flickering, ghostly wisp left behind as his blade swiped across the Silhoutte's ribs. There was a screech, a loud ebbing cry. An odd ghostly tendril sprouted form Talus' back, and then impaled through the silhoutte.

The scream grew louder, and then with a pulse the walking shadow seemed to explode into a thousand pieces.

The eye in the center of his chest pulsed, it's purple hue seeming to glow as he stepped closer and closer to Sloan.

His gaze locked on her as he stepped forward, a dozen eyes transfixed on the first level Dreadlord. His scowl deepened as he reached her, head shaking as he let out a single 'tsk'. Slowly he lowered himself, squatting just above Sloan as he reached out.

The weight of gravity still forced itself down upon her, but she would feel his fingers thread through her hair and forcefully draw her head up.

She would feel the strain of gravity upon her neck, the violent tug of his fingers almost seeming to yank out her hair by their roots. Isbrand stared down at her, his gaze that of the Abyss itself. He leaned in and slowly whispered. "When I'm done with you. I'm going to take your daughters eyes too."

His other hand reached out.

Fingers pressed at her socket, nails digging into her eyelids and pulling them apart.

In horror she would see them, then feel them. Isbrands fingertips seemed to peel back, drawing free and extending in thin tendrils of black. They reached forward, drawing around her eye as he whispered.

"I hear they're very special." Pain would lance through Sloan as Isbrand began to claim his prize.

Sloan | Zana | Luther Urahil​

 

[Zana]

Bella. Thorne. Sloan. Talus. Bella. Thorne. Sloan. Talus?!

She couldn't help all four. Only seconds ticked by but they felt like minutes as she tried to decide. Zana allowed herself to slip back into that calm void they taught in the academy. They had meant for Dreadlords to use it as a way to stay disconnected in the world, to not form bonds and stay loyal to the Houses only. She wondered, somewhere outside that calm, whether her old tutors there would be aghast at how she used it now to save lives instead of take them. The biggest threat was Isbrand so it made the most sense to add her own strength there.

"Help Thorne and Talus," Bella, forgive me, she said to Landon and the other guards. They almost looked relieved she was sending them to the man they would follow into Hells jaws itself rather than with her, but her focus was on Landon. She clamped a hand firmly on his shoulder and squeezed. "Thank you, for, for everything. For being my friend and his. Look after him for me," and then she was going at a sprint for Sloan who lay prone on the floor. Behind her she tore the square in two with a sickening crack creating a gorge a good five meters wide. Hard to jump across. Hard to follow her. Isbrand would destroy them in a heartbeat if they came after her and she had to be focused, she had to be ruthless and cold and everything Sloan had taught her to be when she needed to be the perfect Dreadlord.

Only a Dreadlord could kill an Archon like Isbrand.

"GET AWAY FROM HER!" she shouted on the heel of throwing her discus like shield, straight for the side of Isbrand's head.

 

[Evangeline]

All the might in the world and no way to make use of it in the face of overwhelming speed. It was almost poetic, the sad irony of it all. Ademar was a brawler and little else, apt for close combat with those of similar ability, with strength and stature to crush those who would try to match him pound for pound. Evangeline was ten years his senior, however, and with age came experience. He would've been dead already if not for his own brew of magic; even with it, the Pirian Dreadlord knew that this was a fight that wasn't in his favor.

Even still, she couldn't allow herself to become complacent. Overconfidence was a slow and insidious killer; if she were to slip up or fall for a feint, one good hit would likely be all Ademar would need to kill her. That thought alone was enough to keep her grounded. Her greatest advantages were her ability to stay out of his reach and her intellect. If either one of those slipped, she knew she was likely dead.

"Not a dog, you whore; but a mountain."

Crude beast that he was, some things never changed. Ademar loved to hear himself talk, and he really did think ever so highly of himself. Evangeline was never one for mixing words with opponents; she knew her ideals were superior to those that came in conflict with them, and speed was, after all, her forte. She didn't need to waste precious time informing her foes and rivals of their failings. This, however, was a battle of attrition, not the explosive, quickly-over fights she preferred...and Ademar was notorious for his temper. If she could use that to her advantage, she could make him be the one to make errors.

Blinded as he now was by the mach-speed casting of dirt in his eyes, snatching the hammer away was a simple feat. Ademar was by no means defenseless without it, that she knew, but this was still an advantage she was more than happy to take. She laughed loudly in the face of his trite insult before immediately repositioning herself behind him.

"You always did think so highly of yourself, Ademar." She called to him, her voice dripping with disdain, then repositioned again before continuing. "Such lofty comparisons to such overlarge objects...'boulder' this, 'mountain' that..."

Again she moved, circling seemingly at random to disguise her approach, all the while carefully observing his actions.
"Tell yourself what little lies you must, like so many Dreadlords do, if maintaining that pride of yours is what gets you out of bed in the morning, O lofty 'mountain,' but we both know what you really are..." Another taunt, another move. Then she saw him drop to touch the ground, and she smiled wickedly.

...Poor bastard, do you think you're being clever?...

"Nothing but an insignificant cur, a useful idiot to be disposed of the moment you're no longer useful. A replaceable cog in the Anirian machine." This would be her last taunt, at a distance that suggested she was perhaps simply leaving and from a direction she would not be striking from. Then she struck.

One step on the ground was followed by a great, acceleration assisted leap that sent her spinning through the air above Ademar. She didn't know exactly what he had been up to, but she didn't care and she didn't need to. If he was intending on attacking the ground all around himself, she would simply sail over top him, strike him with his own hammer from overhead, and land safely outside his range on the far side of him. That, at least, was the intent...

 

[Sloan]

Tears fell from her eyes as she watched Isbrand approach her, the tears of a body exhausted and broken, of realisation that the evil eyes that stared at her were the last she'd ever see. The blood that flowed quickly from her wounds showed no sign of slowing, and her energy was spent.

Fingers gripped at her hair and forced her head up and she fought a grimace with a look of sheer defiance, but the threat upon Zana's life was met only by determination. She needed his hands on her, she needed him to be distracted enough that she could take what she needed, and if it meant enduring the pain of having her eyes ripped out then it was the price she'd pay.

She tried not to scream, she tried, but failed. The scream she let out was harrowing as she felt her eye plucked free, her free hand on his wrist, clawing at his flesh, all the while she leeched from him. The power in him was like nothing she'd felt before, it vibrated through her very bones, and slowly she was able to move.

Amidst the pain and power, she felt Zana before she heard her. Fear drove her, as she heard her call out she threw up a wave of energy to shove the woman back and no doubt block her weapon too. "TALUS!!!" she screamed for him, to get Zana out of here and as far from Isbrand as he could. She felt blood spill from the socket where her eye had been, barely able to see more than shadow and light with the one she had left, but she continued to grip hold of him and take as he did, whilst her other hand suddenly rose up to slam the broken spear into his neck.

 

[Talus]

A vicious grin pulled across Isbrand's expression, his eyes gazing down at Sloan as she knelt before him.

Her eye pulled from it's socket, tendrils wrapping around it, flesh warping slowly as it absorbed into his skin. Every muscle in his body seemed to flex, every sinew growing taught. It was as if his entire body was adjusting. Some of the eyes within his flesh seemed to move ever so slightly, shifting as the new power was embedded into his skin.

A loud, satisfied sigh escaped him. "Well."

He said with a smirk.

"I suppose I can do awa-" His words were suddenly cut off as a voice rang out from the right of him. The words instantly caught his attention, the 'threat' of Sloan taken away as all of his eyes suddenly shifted towards Zana.

There was an instant, a split second where nothing seemed to happen. Then the eye on his throat seemed to pulse. A reddish, orange hue crossed it's iris. It seemed to radiate energy, the shield that was hurtling towards Isbrand slowed, as if a force were building up all around them.

Earth shook, rain stopped mid air, and a wave of something pressed out from around the Archon.

Then Sloan's spear stabbed directly through the eye.

Shock crossed Isbrand's face. His eyes seemed to immediately pull back towards the First Level Dreadlord. They seemed to vibrate, shake, pulse. All of them at once seemed to surge, blood poured form each of them, soaking over his muscled form. He coughed, one word escaping him. "Fo-fool."

Suddenly the pressure that had been building up around them imploded, the burst of air receded, and all at once the energy that had built up around Isbrand exploded. A cascade of physical and magical force exploded outwards from the Archon, tearing apart the earth, the rain, and anything within it's path.

Fire, ice, rock, and lashes of blue light cascaded out from Isbrand, the explosion eradicating anything and anyone within it's path.

Talus was fading.

He could feel it to his very soul. His head hurt, his arm hurt. Dozens of bones in his body were either broken or shattered. He'd lost more blood than he had any right to. Yet he was still standing, still aware. The world was a haze, but he could still hear it.

His head snapped to the side as his name echoed out.

It was a split second, half a heartbeat before Sloan's spear stabbed through Isbrands throat. For a second he only stood there, not understanding, not realizing. Then he saw the spark, the slight wave within the rain He felt the pressure of the air suddenly change.

Talus heart skipped a beat as he saw the explosion begin to rupture out within the square, as he spotted Zana standing nearby. His fingers tightened, and then suddenly his body burst into that blue wisp. In an instant he rushed across the broken earth of the Square, leaping over the central chasm that had been ripped into place.

Within a few seconds he reached Zanna.

His body snapped back into reality, his unshattered arm grasping his beloved and swooping her off her feet as he dashed away from the explosion and rushed to the edge of the square.

Behind them Isbrand's magics cascaded forward, cutting a massive swath of destruction and death through the center of Anir Square.

 

[Sloan]

I love you, Zana…

It was the last thought in her mind, even as she stared up at the hazy blur of Isbrand through her one remaining eye, the wave of inevitability robbing her of breath. She forced all pain from her mind, all anger, all fear, focusing on nothing but her maternal bond and the love and pride she felt In her daughter, and she reached out empathically to say all that words could not. She would shield her for as long as she could, her body shaking and burning out with the effort, but her mind was on the child she’d raised, the fearless woman she’d become, the vision of her happy future and the grandchildren she’d never meet.

‘Fool’…

A smile curled on her lips at Isbrand’s last word, and she let out a deep breath, a tear rolling from her eye as it closed and she waited on the end. It was swift and painless, nothing more than a flash of bright light before the darkness, and her brother’s voice in her mind for the first time in twenty years..

“Get some rest, Sloan.”

 

[Zana]

The noise of the battles all around her melted away as she ran. The sounds of her boots on broken cobbles and her own laboured breathing the only things she could hear. That and the echo of her mother's scream of pain. Anger welled in her heart and she let it stoke the dying embers of her magic. There wasn't much left before she would plunge into that painful dangerous pit that would mean she was close to burning herself out, perhaps losing her magic altogether. But anger, fear, and above all her desperate determination to save as many of the people she loved were enough to keep her from the edge of that. She made sure Isbrand saw it in her eyes as she ran, even as that pressure began to build and she saw her shield slow to a stop. He didn't know the extent of her power and his underestimation of her would be how she--

A spear. A pulse. An arm suddenly around her waist.

She felt the moment Sloan died before her mind could comprehend what she saw before her.

Nothing was left of Anir Square. Cobbles, fountain, earth, debris, even the rain clouds that had been directly above it were gone leaving an unnatural perfect hole in the sky itself. Weak rays of sun peaked through as though too scared to look. All that remained was a dark hole that seemed to stretch to the centre of the earth itself. Zana couldn't have cared less.

"NO!" her heartbroken scream broke the silence that had fallen over the capital. Barely conscious of who it was holding her she tore herself from Talus' arms and stumbled blindly back towards the edge. She could feel the tantalising echo of that last caress, the last parcel of love her mother would ever give her. Tears tore down her cheeks and her mind swirled. Anger warred with grief she refused to feel because grief meant Sloan was dead. Gone. Zana refused to believe it when she could still feel that kiss against her mind... Desperately she clung to that and begun.

She had always had a theory that her visions were not really a type of magic. Not in the same sense as her telekinesis or Talus' phasing anyway. She had always thought that her visions were not really her own but were sent to her by some power far beyond her comprehension. Some people would have called it a God but Zana didn't believe in a creator of the universe. She did, however, believe that there were beings far more powerful than those that made themselves known and that one of those beings might have mastered the power of time itself. She'd never spoken of it and had claimed the gifts as her own out of fear if she had those who had owned her would have torture her more to see if they could access such a being. The idea of meddling in time itself had made her stomach churn. But now? Blind with grief her sense was gone. All she could think of was getting Sloan back and how she would do anything, anything in this world and beyond to do it. With a crushing amount of power she hadn't believed herself capable of Zana reached back through that bond to the dark presence beyond her visions. Bring her back. She would bend it to her will. Bring. Her. Back. She had never asked anything of it before. Bringherback! She had suffered torture, pains so agonising she had suffered bleeds of the brain, carried out its wishes and nearly died for its plans. BRING HER BACK. She would have this. BRING. HER. BACK. She demanded this.

It started as a tiny tickle against the senses, then rose the hairs on the backs of necks as Zana's magic began to build like a tsunami within her forcing people to their knees, to their bellies under its weight. A young Dreadlord started forward as if to stop her but before he could finish taking another step that wave reached its height with a crack like thunder and a scream of anguish that sent her to her knees.

 

[The Herald]

Zana’s scream would fall into an echoless silence. The rain around slowed, then stopped to hang as a glittering mosaic in the air. There were no more fierce winds, no more sounds of battle. There was no sound at all. There was no movement whatsoever.

Everything, save Zana herself, was held in pristine stillness.

And then the rain began to rise. The dust began to flow backwards and the blinding, blazing blue maelstrom of death shimmered back to life and began to implode in upon itself. Cobblestone knit itself back together at its passing whilst people, dreadlords, and even the birds in the sky swam backwards. The light formed itself into a man, and dust coalesced into a kneeling woman. Bloodied, beaten, but unafraid.

CEASE​

A voice simultaneously spoken throughout the world itself, and yet only within Zana’s mind, obliterated any thought before it, and the hand behind the word stopped the titanic gears of Zana’s magic as though they were but a feather. The world again stood still, but it was not peaceful. Reality had been leashed, and it trembled.

Zana would be unable to move, and she would see a hooded figure standing before her. He was the only thing that moved. He cast no shadow.

LANGUISH​

In an instant, and without so much as a flicker from the hooded creature, Zana’s connection to the temporal was sealed. She would feel no presence from those she had served, and no visions would come to her. How her mind would react to such a shift was for her to experience.

Her earthly gift of telekinesis would see itself sapped to triviality. Whatever show of force had forced onlookers to their knees would be her last.

REPENT​

Her vision, by no control of her own, panned to the right, and the moment the figure left her view from the left it reentered on the right, now many yards away and standing above Sloan and Isbrand. Zana had not been so close when it happened, yet she was here now.

The Herald reached out and placed a hand on top of Sloan’s motionless head. The hand defied description, and its exact appearance would not be remembered. It made contact, and Sloan’s final scream was seared into Zana’s mind as she burst into blue flames again and again.

Then Zana was back, kneeling at the edge of the crater, as though nothing had happened since the moment she demanded Sloan be returned. The three words, commands and instructions, would continue to haunt her dreams for some time. Should she attempt to break the seal on her abilities she would be met only with visions of blue fire and an eyeless, suffering woman.

 

[Zana]

It's working.

As the world ground to a halt and then begun to spin the opposite way, as people who had been erased from existence rematerialized in a gruesome rewind of their obliteration, as she saw her mother begin to reform out of the ash she had become, a tiny thrill of triumph ran through her. She could do it. Her breath came in quick panting gasps as the enormity of the power she was handling begun to take its toll but she didn't care. All those people she could save if she just kept on going.

That voice was like a white-hot iron through her sense and her hands came up to clutch at her head as the sound threatened to make her brain bleed out through her ears. It was a pain too big to voice. The scream she should have voiced was locked, useless, in her throat anyway by the binds of power that roped about her like an anchor. The power that had filled her suddenly vanished leaving her a hollow empty shell that was now filled only by that voice, that presence that felt familiar and strange all in one, and Sloan's unending final scream. All exhilaration left with her gifts and what remained was terror.

Zana had never felt true fear before that day.

The figure disappeared and with it the world returned. The Dreadlord slumped forward with a hand to her chest, struggling to breathe, to think, to comprehend. All she knew was the pain in her heart as it broke into a thousand pieces. Slowly, she collapsed on her side and sobbed.