The last of the zombies were killed, and Layla felt her heartbreak. She slumped to her knees, and looked over a sea of corpses. Aside from the few initial humans, she had saved no one else. It'd been a complete massacre. People had turned faster than they could kill, and for a few minutes - the entire street had been a living hell. Fenrir walked through the sea, pouring a torrent of fire over the bodies.
She would've helped him, but she felt tired; empty. She also felt lost. She didn't know where these emotions were coming from, but she could feel it wasn't hers. Or maybe it was? She was numb now, emotionally, after having to slaughter zombie children. Zombie women. Zombie elders. It hadn't been quite the thing when she'd been an adventurer. But she had never fought zombies before.
"Is it safe now?" A small boy asked from the window above her.
"It is..." Layla sighed. "We killed all the monsters. Let's get you inside the city now. "
She dropped the bloodied sword, which was nothing more than scrap metal now. And the children began to step out of the brick building they'd sheltered in.
"Fenrir!" Layla called out to the large wolf. "Can you get that gate open?"
Fenrir looked up to the Eastern Gate and nodded. The storm was growing stronger and -- The storm died as she thought about it. The wind died and snow slowly fell all around them. It was as if the storm hadn't been there. Stars shimmered as the sun began to rise. Layla smiled as she turned to see Fenrir scrambled with some effort onto the frost-covered stone curtain.
A few moments later, the gate began to slowly open and the group made their way in. They disregarded the smoke columns that rose high in the sky now. Illuminated by the rising sun, they stepped through the gate, and it closed behind them.
Inside, the snow was up to the children's chins. Fenrir, who joined them after closing the gate; had been voluntold to let the children ride him. The wolf worked his way up the road, seeing several smoke columns rise from the north, but none like in the slums. He lost interest as he latched onto the, now strong, thread of magic linking Layla and Cyril.
Life stirred all around them. Fearful faces in windows. Doors cracking as they looked in awe to the wolf being ridden. Eventually, they reached a large plaza. A plaza that'd been torn apart by a battle. Fenrir could feel the faint traces of a particular sort of magic; one that belonged to Lahabiel. The thread led into the large cathedral on the other end of the plaza. And thus, he continued even as a crowd began to slowly form around a few destroyed skeletons.
They stepped into the thrashed cathedral and saw a strange sight. An angel, a girl, and a clergyman. Fenrir's heart began to race as he heard the beautiful voice that echoed solemnly throughout the hall.
"Off, now, I must greet my Mistress," Fenrir ordered, and let them off. "Layla, come with me to greet her."
The children followed as the two walked up the altar steps. Fenrir and Layla kept their eyes down as they bowed when they reached Cyril's feet. When they looked up, they each held back a gasp as Cyril sang. Her angelic face was enrapturing and beautiful. Nearly flawless.
For, black lines had webbed across the left side of her face. And a black horn curved up from her left temple. Fenrir knew what it was on sight.
It was Corruption.
— † —
Priscilla found herself being carried among a sea of people dressed in strange black clothes. She was in a church, though it was similar to the cathedral, the holy symbols within it were nothing she recognized. Everyone spoke in hushed voices. She quickly discovered she couldn't move and that her body moved on its own. She felt trapped.
She then turned to see who was carrying her.
"Mommy, is Grandpa really not coming back?" A child's voice called out.
"Yes, Dear," It was a woman with fiery red hair and lovely blue eyes.
"Is Heaven really that far?" the child asked.
"Yes, Cyril," The woman sighed. "Very far.
Cyril?! Priscilla panicked.
"Madin," A man called out from behind. "Load up. I'll be there in a moment. I need to square away a few details with the Bishop."
Cyril turned to see an older white man with greying hair. He looked worn and tired, more so than this Maddin.
"Aye," Maddin replied with a particular accent. "Don't be too long, Cyril needs to eat."
They then turned and walked down the steps before Maddin had put them down. She grabbed their hand and led them across a strange black stone road. It looked mysterious and to be one large piece with different vibrant colors. People were getting in metal boxes with tires that roared to life all around her. It was scary... And fascinating. They moved without horses before leaving the area. They were metal carriages.
One carriage roared load in the distance. But Cyril never seemed phased but it so it must have been normal. They slid between the carriages as Maddin fumbled with something in a teary haze. Then a boy called out to them.
"Cyril!" A boy called out. "Your mom dropped your keys."
"Alright!" Cyril said and began to run across the black stones as something roared in the distance.
"Cyril, don't run off!" Maddin yelled and chased after her, running past the other people.
Something roared off to the side as Maddin grabbed hold of Cyril's wrist. She was in the middle of picking them up when people began to scream. Cyril turned to see people falling over as a large metal carriage, with two bright lights, came at them. Maddin screamed and tried to pull them away. Cyril only stared in shock as the lights grew closer.
Then Priscilla felt her body contort and something heavy roll over her. She felt warm and wet now. Her head throbbed, but she only saw the blue sky as snow clouds slide across it.
"Cyril!" The man from earlier called out.
The metal carriage roared to life again, and then loud thunder echoed several times. There was a loud crash and even more screaming. The grey-haired man was over her now, and that little boy hysterically apologizing.
She didn't understand what had happened. Why it had happened. However, the pain was coming now. It was a soul wracking pain that made her chest heave, but even that hurt as well... Everything went dark.
Priscilla suddenly found herself in the middle of another storm. Or at least, what she thought was a storm. It was just a sea of snow, and wind skimmed over it. Black tendrils webbed outward across it and Priscilla followed them with her eyes. She found they had come from behind her.
She turned to see where it came from, or where it was going.
When she turned, she saw a massive golden crystal ball. At its core, was Cyril. The black webs converged below the ball and formed a black pillar that rose up and connected to the crystal ball. And webbed across a small portion at the bottom. Where it turned, the gold around it had turned grey. Priscilla felt a cold take over her.
"Disgusting human..." A voice roared in the distance. "How dare you step upon the land of Eden!"
The ground trembled as black tendrils rose up from below the snow. It was not snow, but ice. It shattered and tens of tendrils rose up. They arched through the air before coming down toward her - intent on killing her where she stood.
"Enough, Edward," A sweet voice, Madin's voice, called out. "She's our daughter's friend. I'll take her back to where she belongs."
Silver light wrapped over her, and just before the tendrils struck her. She was gone. When she opened her eyes again, she found Cyril looking down at her. Her wings were spread out behind her, almost wrapping around her. She was changed. Like the crystal out in the ice field, black webbed across the left side of her face. A single horn had grown as well.
But she still looked down at her with a soft smile.
"Welcome back," Cyril said softly.
Next release will be on sunday.
Miniature mountains and rivers made of wood were laid out before Alistair; his silver eyes criticizing each inch of the land depicted below. Carved from a single branch of the now-dead World Tree, the table spanned nearly thirty-feet long and almost ten wide. That was not to say that had been the entire branch itself. No, it was only one-thirtieth of the branch Alistair had pulled with them during their defeat at the Highland Cliffs five-hundred years ago.
The rest had gone to framing his castle within the Capital, in which he was in now. Even then, there had been enough odd pieces to be used for little things. Such as candle holders that could not be burnt by normal fire. Hilts for swords and even several shields had been made from the cuttings. Each of national-grade quality. Most stayed in the castle, surrounded by thousands of Paladins and loyal believers.
The World tree, withered and just a black husk that stood half its height on the Highland's Cliffs, was the home of the old Goddess of Light - Maddin.
While Maddin had not been a troublemaker like Hades had been, she sheltered the High-Elves in her city. And under the combined might of the Four Races, their armies had laid siege to her ill-prepared city within a day. Dwarves, Humans, Beastmen, and even their lowly cousins, Fallen ones - now officially called Elves - assaulted her city. Alistair, a budding youth with one step into Godhood, had led the charge.
It had not been a battle, but more a massacre. One he had come to regret later on in life. He never truly understood that wonderful woman; though he thought her a stupid wench then. Blinded with hate for the High Elves, he was too young to understand the cycles of war and loss. He had been arrogant from his consecutive wins against their oppressors. And on that day, was when his suffering truly began.
His finger traced the grain, hoping that it'd speak to him, but a dead magical tree was still dead. Its soul was long gone, but its magic still there.
Had he been wiser, he would have seen how that Goddess of Light had truly kept the horrors away from them. It wasn't under he had felled her on the World Tree did he understand. Maddin, The Flower of Love and Light, may have been neutral in all accounts. But she was never still. She had kept the demons and Devils away. She had kept the living on the ground, and the dead in it.
After she had died, the demons came in full force for the First World War. The Four Races against the monsters of the north. Serfs and lowly-nobles speak of this war as if it were a win. It had not. Alistair had been humbled in this war. A war that had razed the very ground they had walked. The demons would haven't wiped them all from existence if they had not slithered back to their forsaken lands. No one knew why they had.
Only two things had been discovered, and how the land had gained its name. The Forbidden Forest had been untouched in their rage. The second had been that Maddin was actually Hades's wife. It had only been discovered when a Devil had brought them a declaration of war, though ironically, marking the start Silent War.
A war that raged violently in Death Valley, unheard by the rest of the world. Where the Theocracy clashed with the demons daily.
Alistair leaned forward, his calloused hands circled with golden rings picked up a black piece of metal-tipped with a skull on top. He moved it across the carved map and placed it several inches away from a white metal totem tipped with a tower.
"The Demon Army gained forty miles of land in their push," Alistair reported it as if he were talking about the weather. "I managed to halt their advance, but I could not break through their main forces. Not until I gain more power."
Yes. The demons had invaded in the night, and Alistair had been nearly powerless against it. A million strong, fortified with Devils and nightmarish beasts. It had been unlike anything before the Silent War had begun. Rather, it was the reason for these dark memories resurfacing. It was an invasion, and that was not the end of his woes.
When he had returned to Angel's Respite, where their most elite fighters stood guard on a mile-long wall with bases all along its rear, he'd been greeted with news of the Haven's invading their largest port city. It had taken Alistair nearly an hour to reach it via magical leaps. And when he had gotten there, nothing but black walls and streets greeted him. The entire city had been burned. The attack had come while he had been busy in the north. Alistair removed a large hexagon coin, etched and inlaid with a golden ship next.
"Port Arthur no longer exists," Alistair reported as well. "Akyryss had not occupied the city. She instead burned it all. Men, women, and children; none were spared."
The coin was dropped into a small red-wood tray, padded with blue velvet. Alistair's silver eyes flicked up to the three people who sat dumbfounded by what their god had informed them off. They had gone to sleep in the most peaceful era known to the country. The next morning, they had woken up to total war at their distant gates. Only Alistair's general reacted quickly.
"I will rally all the arms within the country," General Caelian Green said weakly. "I will have them assemble here in the capital before we march up the highway."
If this were a normal meeting, and he'd been the one reporting it. He would have been pounding on the table and berating his subordinates for their slow work. However, he would never dare even touch the table, even when exceptionally beautiful maids had brought him a crystal goblet of fine wine. He was a large man in stature. Broad-shouldered, thickheaded, and a head full of thick brown hair.
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