Shadow of the Abyss

Bodies of babes could be seen smeared over the walls like paste, where demons would bash their skulls against the wall or fence or toss them onto the pikes to see if they'd stick. It had been a pastime game the demons played, curious to see who would charge out to seek revenge only to be torn to pieces.

While women captured by the demons would be sold to the imps to create more of their kind, the incubation period was quick. A week at the longest, much like goblins. And a single woman could birth maybe fifty before her body withered, sucked dry by the parasites. Their mournful wails had been like an endless tide through the night.

Aurora had grown used to the sight, but her stomach remained squeamish at the sights that seared its way into her mind. Their party had grown in size these past three weeks. Housing nearly a hundred that had all been devoured by the dungeon.

Her master had said it was merely Forwin who would face the Hell Tide. But the more Aurora journeyed, the more her heart broke at the horrors. Pyres of men and women, of children and elderly, were burned by the day, fearful the demons' aura would turn them into ghouls or wraiths. It was an endless tide of suffering. The likes not even Cedric, Amilia, or Fat Mike had ever seen.

Much less the new recruits who puked and cried.

It was hell.

"How much longer?" Cedric asked, with a visible sense of drain in his voice. He had seen too much death this past few months than he'd ever wanted to.

Bitterly, Aurora glanced at him, unsure of his aim. The day she had woken, Aurora had claimed that Altair had been in Forwin. Most had rejected her claim. They had scuffed at her, and understandably. She had never been to this realm. And had only just woken.

Only Cedric seemed to care what she had to say.

Aurora had not dared to explain they shared a Master Servent Relationship with Cedric but claimed she could communicate to Altair. And it had been proven when she began to lead Cedric to the closest Stronghold, with Altair's help. He had been the one with a map of the region back in Forwin.

They had met Amilia and Fat Mike there.

"Three days." Talia had answered. Her hair had been matted with blood, and her uniform was all but unrecognizable for anything but rags. She pointed towards the faint shadow of smoke in the distance. "That's Forwin. And it should be where Commander Hilda and Altair reside."

"Hells." Fat Mike groaned with sweat on his brow. He swept the black rain from out of his eyes, a hundred pounds thinner than he was three weeks ago. He had fought nearly every day. And had given the recruits his rations. They had needed it more than him. "They're being sieged."

Cedric grimaced. "I thought Forwin would be safe. But it seems the entire realm is on fire."

Fat Mike nodded through sharp gasps. "Aye. Though Forwin seems to be in better shape than the other places we've visited." He looked on, narrowing his gaze at the Cathedral. "And they've got a few powerful men hiding. It might be the best place we could be to gain information."

"M–Altair said he's procured an estate for us," Aurora said. "But that's on the promise that we descend on the battlefield. To aid Lord Edwin Silvermane."

"Good. I could use a rest." Fat Mike said and glanced at the soldiers on his rear. "And so too can they. Let's go."

***

On the Wall, scorched black by blood, rain, and flames alike. Edwin watched on as arcs of lightning shrieked from the mage's staff, piercing through the wails of banshees, Wraths, and imps in the dreadful skies of Forwin. A rain of arrows quickly followed after the wave of magic, alternating to give the casters time to chant.

Beside him, Lord Varrell looked even older. He had shredded much of the greys on his head, and now all that remained was a small patch. He looked nearly his age.

"With the Gnolls and Banshees on the field… we have lost nearly five hundred meters," said Varrell bitterly. "They'll reach the first barricade we've prepared in maybe another week."

"The Sword of the King, Varquess, will also be delayed," Edwin said, colder than usual. "It will seem it's not just Farwin. A Blood Raven came last night with a message. It seems all of the Realm is in an uproar." and so are my bannermen who were forced to return to protect the north. "We might not see reinforcements for perhaps another month. Perhaps longer.

If they even make it."

"Aidios, save us all," prayed Varrell. He was looking out at the horizon to the vicious beast ablaze with hellish fire, charging forward, large as wolves, with the ferocity to match. Each step they bore seemed to liquefy stone into pits of molten lava, superheating the air until it burned. Howls echoed as the horde of Hellions came forth, bringing with them a sea of flames.

"Madness," Said Edwin gravely.

"A baptism of it." Lord Blackwood laughed, covered in fresh blood and a bone-deep scar cutting down his cheek. Joined by Reina, she was visibly wet with gashes that shone through her surcoat. Her ears bled with the loud ringing of the banshee's wails. And soon, so too were her eyes.

"Altair…" Edwin said, furrowing a brow. "You shouldn't be—"

"I'm here to collect on our deal." Altair cut in, looking west a little ways off from the horde of Hellions charging forth. He pointed, sensing his shadow in the distance. "Look there… What do you see?"

Before Edwin could remark, the faintest ache of mana fluttered through the air. He frowned, bracing himself as the Mana of the World began to quiver and fold. The winds began to recede over the horizon, pulled by an unseen force, shifting the tide of the Black Rain. Six Magical Circles crowned the skies, cresting over the darkness. The world shuddered and ached with the rumbles of thunder.

Serpents of lightning slithered through the black clouds in a blaze of might. A howl thundered through the darkness.

"Ballad of Thor!"

And the skies wept upon the land, a great cataclysm of thunder and lightning. The air had turned to fire and fire to light. Mountains turned to vaper and demons to dust as the lightning came upon the ground like a great pillar. The Earth shattered and howled, thrashing into an endless quake of destruction. Great fountains of magma roiled hundreds of feet into the skies like the eruption of volcanoes.

Laughter sprang through the air, with the winds that came snapping trees and man alike like twigs. Were it not for the great barrier around Forwin that guarded its ground troops, death would be the only thing that would have welcomed them.

"...An Archmage…" Edwin cried in disbelief when, at last, the winds died down, and the Ballad of Lightning and Thunder ended.

Altair stared greedily at Fat Mike hovering in the air. He had not known the man was a mage, but it had made sense. There would be no other way for a man of his size and stature to participate in a physical altercation.

"Ballad of Thor, eh?" He licked his lips, feasting his eyes on the devastation that left only death and destruction in its wait. The land… The World was on Fire. "What a powerful spell." He turned to Edwin. "I'd like my estate now. For I've not just brought a single monster, but two. Meet Jorah Mike, Captain of the Imperial Forces."

Magma continued to spew and fold over the land. Hardened with the help of the Black Rain.

"Great Gods!" Varrell cried and rushed off to get a damage report.

"PREPARE FOOD!!!!" Fat Mike roared and floated back down to the ground, returning to his team protected by a warding Amilia, and Cedric erected.

Altair looked on, arms poised behind his back, taking it all in. "It's not just Forwin… I'm sure you know this already. But the entire realm is fighting this Tide. And I don't see us winning." He clenched his fist. "I suggest you take advantage of what Fat Mike gave you. And spread the word for all to know.

Forwin has an Archmage, or whatever you call it. If we are to survive, we need bodies. A spell like that is sure to have come with a price."

Quick to catch his meaning, Edwin did not think twice and left the wall, returning to his estate to begin writing up letters to all of the Realm.

'Forwin had an Archmage… one of unknown origin.'