The Citadel halls were thick with Aethermist. The twisting corridors were a maze on their own, but with the mist it was labyrinthine.
Shadows danced in the mist, playing tricks on our eyes. They caused some junior members to lose their composure—occasionally the sound of an arrow hitting a wall or a spell fizzling out on the stone, followed by an expletive was heard behind us.
We were now slowly making our way through a massive central antechamber. Numerous pathways branched off but we advanced straight through into the largest archway. The chamber opened up into a grand hall. Intricate stained glass windows lined both walls. Though most of them were severely damaged and even shattered, a few managed to have survived relatively in one piece. They depicted powerful warriors, clad in ornamental armor and wearing the crest of the Vanixian Empire, a great Phoenix with its wings spread wide.
Large fluted pillars of granite rose up through the hall, each one disappearing into a seemingly endless void. From this darkness hung large chains, some swaying freely and others held taut by wrought iron chandeliers.
As the last member stepped into the hall, runes formed ahead of us. Magickal energy crackled around them, but no mental assault followed.
A bolt of purple magick shot overhead, striking the archway. A barrier formed in the threshold.
An elemental seal.
The seal flashed brightly, and three runes formed in front of it.
That spiteful voice hammered in my head this time, "NO RETREAT COME FACE DEATH."
There was certainly no retreat. The seal that prevented our escape was Void Magick, and there were few among the mortal races that could channel that power. We would have to defeat the Terror Demon if we wanted to escape this nightmare.
Mei signaled for the group to stop and everyone came to a halt. The clank of steel subsided and an eerie silence fell over us.
But not for long.
The sound of something creaking in the mists broke the silence. The noise grew louder and started emanating from all across the hall. Out of the mists shapes started to appear.
Skeletal warriors shambled towards us. They wore ornamental red armor, and their equipment was a mix of heavily armored knights to light armed rangers.
This demon literally wants us to face Death.
I scanned the closest skeleton warrior.
- - - - - - - - - - - - {TARGET} - - - - - - - - - - - -
[RISEN DEAD]
[HEALTH]: (50 / 50) | [STAMINA]: (50 / 50) | [MAGICKA]: (0 / 0)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Huh. These are some incredibly weak foes.
In a one-on-one fight, any soldier could easily win. However, this was not a dueling tournament. We were outnumbered and the number of enemies was growing at an alarming rate as more of the undead poured in from the mists.
Julius cried out orders and defensive positions started to form.
Guardians formed compact shieldwall formations around our larger force. The clash of steel against bone and sinew echoed through the halls.
Rangers formed a firing line towards the back and unleashed a volley. Arrows rained down on the approaching horde of undead, but they did little to stagger their advance. Most failed to hit a mark or they simply glanced off the bones, failing to find any substance to stick their bladed heads into. Julius was quick to organize the rangers into a melee position after the failed volley.
Bursts of elemental fury sailed overhead as casters slung their spells at the enemy. Balls of fire and lightning struck their targets and exploded in an area of effect that devastated the oncoming horde.
For every undead fiend slain, another flooded in from the dark abyss surrounding us.
A group of rangers flanked me on my right. They each wielded short-bladed swords called faelx cresaerie in elvish, or commonly referred to as crescent glaives by Divisionals. These swords were subtly curved with a single-edged blade. Typically held backwards against the wielder's forearm, their short nature and aerodynamic blade allowed for their users to twist and dance around the battlefield, slashing their enemies apart in fluid motion.
One of the members stuck out, her eyes met mine from under a cowled hood. It was Mei. No longer on point, she must have fallen back with the rest of the rangers after the battle started.
"We need to push forward or we will be overrun."
Her words were sharp, without emotion as always.
She knew what I knew as well; that if we didn't gain ground and eliminate the source behind this foul void magick, our stamina would slowly be chipped away. Eventually our defensive lines would falter. After that, our forces would be routed—and with no way of escape...
We would all face death.
Poetic.
A group of undead broke through the shield line ahead of us and charged our position.
Overhead, Valiance, our ebon-feathered overwatch, cried sharply. The reddened glow of MARK TARGET illuminated the shambling bones. Crimson flames and crescent glaives danced through the air and the vanguard of the faceless dead crumbled to dust.
In a huff of fatigue I gave Mei a quick response.
"We'll push forward."
Committing to moving ahead, I activated the Communirune and reached out to the frontlines, focusing on Julius.
"Hey. Time to gain ground. Have any plans?"
"Just one, avoid dying."
"Great plan, really. Anything else you wanna add to that or—?"
"Nope."
The master strategist. Just yesterday Luke lavished praise worthy of a storybook hero. 'He's something else' Luke had said—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion resonated from the frontline. It was followed by cries of pain, and some strong language in a gruff voice. I shot a frantic thought out to Julius.
"What happened, are you okay!?"
"..."
After a brief delay, and a few skipped heartbeats, he replied with a broken tone.
"One of those damned things just exploded. We lost three."
"Celestials…"
"I don't think they're gonna help us on this one, Airis. If you can rally troops and carve a path, do it. I'll do what I can to keep our forces moving forward with you."
I turned to Mei and gave her a sharp nod, "We're up."
I sprinted forward and pushed past the guardian's shieldwall. Mei and the other rangers followed close behind me—they struck with precision, quick slashes that tore cleanly through ligament and sinew.
My attacks were much more chaotic in contrast. Striking out in wide arcs, I cleaved throngs of the dead with each swing. Flames lashed out, carving a pathway for us to advance.
As we pushed forward, the remainder of our forces fell in behind us. It was not a strong defensive line, every inch of ground we gained was traded tit for tat with injury.
By the time we had crossed the length of the hall, twenty members in total were severely injured; another fifteen were dead.
The hall ended at a great imperial staircase. Red granite was inlaid within white marble to create a dazzling crosshatch pattern as the stairs rose up. Two divided flights arched away from a central landing, adorned with gold embellishment.
Our forces pushed onto the landing and the remaining guardians formed a shieldwall between the banisters on the base of the stairs. Rangers and casters took positions on the divided flights.
The onslaught of undead had slowed—or at least it appeared that way. Without the need to defend multiple flanks our forces could focus fire, and we took advantage of this to see to our wounded.
The injured soldiers were centered along the back wall of the landing. I scanned the Healer members of the raiding group, and was shocked to see that every one of them had almost depleted their magicka. Despite that, the Healers were already channeling spells to stop blood loss and heal wounds.
I spotted Hailey among them. She was examining a lightly armored woman, whose leg was twisted in a gruesome manner. As I got closer I could tell how bad the injury truly was. It was impossible to tell if there was a single definitive point the bleeding was coming from. Hailey's healing magic wasn't meant for damage like this. Spending high amounts of magicka to heal complicated wounds like this would leave her with a massive headache—and unable to function.
Nevermind the fact that she was almost completely out of magicka herself.
I placed a hand on her shoulder, "I've got this."
She spun around at my touch. Her eyes lit up when she realized it was me and mouthed a 'Thank you' at me. She looked like she was about to collapse any minute.
The bone needed to be set before I could cast my healing spell, otherwise the wound may heal up but the leg may not function properly. The woman was barely conscious. Explaining the process from setting to healing, I got a few nods from her and a raspy response through a clenched jaw.
"Just do what you have to…"
I channeled golden light through my palms.
"Blessed and divine light, I pray to you. Bestow your warmth unto me and save this one from harm. Heal!"