Nadia advanced on the group of hunters slowly as she readied her attack. The first group of nearly ten had fallen easily enough, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself. Don’t get cocky, Laurence.
With the howling wind and rain for cover, it wasn’t especially difficult for her to remain unnoticed, especially under the effects of Active Camouflage, but unfortunately, she hadn’t noticed anything was wrong until it was too late.
Nadia’s mechanical fist struck one of the hunters as she appeared at the edge of the group, but when she was in the midst of the strike, her danger sense from Tracker’s Instincts flared sharply from behind her, and she was briefly assaulted by a searing pain that was rapidly replaced by spreading numbness.
Twisting hard to face her attacker while the rest of the hunters scattered, Nadia came face to face with… nothing. She scanned her surroundings, but found no evidence of who or what had stabbed her, and now she had five hunters who she’d ambushed preparing a counter.
With a swift pivot and twist, Nadia delivered a spinning backhand to a hunter that got too close, her massive gauntlet crushing the man’s rib cage as it pushed directly through his guard as though the man’s arms and armour were made of tissue. As the hunter was flung away like a ragdoll, another flare of danger assaulted Nadia’s senses, driving her to turn, and followed swiftly by another penetrating strike, this time to her dominant leg.
“Aah!” She cried out in pain before once more, the numbness spread from the wound, slowing her steps and causing her to stumble. Felix! What’s going on? She asked worriedly.
Host has been attacked via an artifact… Felix lacks a means to purge its influence. If Host can acquire it, Felix may be able eliminate its effects.
Fuck! Felix, can you trigger Impact Transfer the next time it attacks me? Send the shockwave back through their own attack?
Possible? … Yes. Possible. Felix can do this.
Alright, buddy! I’m counting on you!
Cursing internally, Nadia carefully repositioned herself, worried she’d be tripped up by her wounds as she readied herself to strike again. Switching her stance to favour the leg that wasn’t wounded, Nadia made a jab towards one of the hunters.
Time seemed to slow as her fist travelled forward, and Nadia felt the surge of danger once more. Commit to it, Laurence. Don’t show your hand now. She grit her teeth as she felt her punch connect with another hunter, while searing, crippling pain stabbed into her flank.
Executing. Impact Transfer.
A dull clap sounded out as the shockwave travelled along a short black spear, striking a shadowy, ephemeral figure that seemingly lacked any presence at all, dispelling any semblance of stealth it had once possessed and ravaging its body.
The figure clad in dark leather was launched away from Nadia, only to find itself impaled upon the branch of a tree it crashed into as large amounts of blood poured from the wounds now covering its form.
Nadia struggled to take a steadying breath, ready to eliminate the remaining hunters, but found herself unable to move or focus as her vision slowly went dark.
~
Zarathea POV
Zarathea felt a surge of panic well up within her. Somewhere out there, Nadia was fighting a dangerous opponent, and she was injured. Part of their bond gave them a general sense of the other’s well-being, and to her, Nadia’s presence had slowly been shrouded in a numbing fog.
This isn’t good. We’ve yet to move on the camp, which means there was something else hidden amongst the hunters… She thought to herself, assessing the risk. If I attack directly… I very much doubt that I am equipped to deal with whatever it might have been… not on my own, at least.
Zarathea struggled to make her decision momentarily before ultimately deciding to fall back to Tirie’s position, with the other harpies and rooks. Don’t worry, Nadia. I will not fail. She tried to direct a comforting thought across their connection. Not again.
—
In the time it took her to reach Tirie and her squad, one of the remaining Cloudhunters had fallen, and the other returned to the hunters’ encampment. After Nadia was incapacitated, they had all fallen back, seemingly content to hold their position for the moment.
Zarathea, meanwhile, had come up with a number of possible actions that could salvage the situation, though she was hesitant to make use of some of them, as they were not without cost.
“Nadia was wounded and captured, we need to reevaluate our approach.” Zarathea said, once they had gathered. “I do not know what attacked her, but its obvious that the hunters have at least one powerful figure hidden amidst their numbers. Even with the Cloudhunters dead, I cannot guarantee that my Voice would allow us to defeat them.”
Tirie and the rest of the harpies had concern written on their expressions, while the Rooks were seemingly unphased by this news. “We need to know what it is we’re facing,” Zarathea informed them. “And there happens to be a nearby alchemist we can question.” She added.
Without further delay, they took off, making their way back to the mountain, where another group of harpies were keeping the intruders contained.
I’ll use the talisman, no matter what price I have to pay.
~
Jake POV
This ain’t gonna be pretty. Jake thought to himself grimly. Not long ago, the harpies outside had pulled back and gone quiet. What the fuck is happening out there? I doubt Nat’s drawn them away, just like that.
With many questions running through his mind, he looked towards Frederick and his guards. These guys are taking this too calmly. Frederick wasn’t even surprised at the mention of harpies to begin with, but to not even worry about a Banshee?
Jake frowned slightly, returning his eyes to the cave entrance, his focus drifting with the melodic sound of the wind. Almost sounds like—
Before Jake could finish the thought, he’d fallen asleep.
—
Jake’s eyes sprang open to find himself and the rest of his crew tied up while Frederick and his guards were missing.
Fuck me! I fucking knew it! He cursed himself internally. Lifting his head to look around, he spotted her. Easily recognised by the eyeless face and ethereal air, he knew exactly what it was he was looking at. Banshee!
“Did you sleep well, Jake?” She asked, her voice sounded melodic and sorrowful and every other emotion all at once. Jake bit down on his cheek as hard as he could, trying to clear his mind of her witchery. He took a deep breath to calm himself before replying. “What is it you want from me and my crew?” He asked.
“I would like for you to tell me about the alchemist that was with you.” She replied calmly. “I spoke with Nat, earlier. She told me some interesting things. Even asked me not to kill you and your crew. She was very concerned, after she’d learnt you’d been lied to.”
Jake’s face twitched, but he bit back the curses he would have liked to direct at the witch. Keep it cool Jake. Don’t piss off the man-eaters.
“What’s that about us being lied to? That got anything to do with what you want to know?” He asked hesitantly, trying not to shudder when he saw the Banshee grin in response, revealing her bone-white teeth.
“It’s true, I’m afraid. Frederick’s goal was to use your team to locate my people’s village, so that when you were captured and interrogated, you wouldn’t be able reveal the raiding party following you.” She said, maintaining her smile. “I doubt he planned for your survival, whether or not we decided to kill you.”
Jake frowned hearing that. She could be playing you, Jake. Don’t fall for it.
“Is Nat still alive?” He asked hesitantly. Her smile slipped very slightly as she answered. “Alive? Yes. That raiding party I mentioned captured her. Now, please tell me about Frederick.”
Jake hesitated again, but decided it was better to answer. No need to give the witch an excuse to mind-fuck me.
~
Zarathea POV
It didn’t take long to learn what little information Jake had to offer before returning to question the alchemist, Frederick. The alchemists guards knew very little of anything, and he was the last person on her list of interrogation subjects, as well as the one she held the most animosity towards.
“Drop the act, snake.” Zarathea laced her voice with enough power to compel the alchemist, causing his body to shudder before he lifted his head, glaring at her. “If you do not release me now, savage I—“
“You will not speak unless bidden.” She interrupted, silencing the wretch. She enjoyed watching the man gag and choke as he tried to speak in spite of her command.
“You will answer my questions truthfully, and to the best of your knowledge.” The man’s eyes bulged as the command settled upon him, his face shifting rapidly between being pale and practically turning purple with strain as he tried to fight against it.
“You led a raiding party here, intent on attacking my people, yes?” She asked, her voice calm and smooth. Frederick coughed and sputtered as he tried to resist answering, but eventually spat a reply. “Yes.”
“What is the worst pain you have ever felt?” She asked, changing tactics. I’d rather not waste too much time with this one.
This time, the alchemist wasn’t nearly so resistant, describing an accident he’d experienced early in his training involving several corrosive substances.
“Good. Whenever you attempt to resist answering, you will relive that pain ever more detail.” She said, putting more power into her voice, enjoying the fear in the man’s expression.
“Tell me about the disposition of troops and creatures in the raiding party you led here.” She smiled, watching Frederick try to resist her command. His face went pale and his body began to spasm and thrash against his bonds as her magic forced him to relive all the pain he remembered. Tears, mucus, drool and sweat soon covered his face as he fought, but he eventually gave in.
“T-the raiding party is *hic* f-forty men, led by t-two Aspirants, and th-they also have *hic* a d-dozen Cloudhunters.” The alchemist looked at her miserably, hopeful that he’d be relieved of the pain with his answer.
He was wrong.
“Aspirants?” She asked. His face crumpled further, realising now that not only was the pain not abating, but that further delaying was making it grow steadily worse as he struggled to keep his silence.
Sensing that he might attempt suicide out of spite, she quickly issued another command. “You will not attempt escape or suicide.” She laced the command with more power, carefully weaving it in with the others she had binding his will.
The biggest limitation to wielding the Banshee’s magic was in the number and relative power of commands or effects that could be placed upon a subject simultaneously. Multiple commands layered atop one another could interfere, disrupting the magic, or unintentionally harm the subject.
With three complex commands actively binding him, Frederick was dangerously close to receiving a strong backlash from Zarathea’s magic if she were to add more, and without her attention, the compulsions would rapidly weaken.
Frederick looked as if he was ready to faint when he finally answered. “T-they *hic* are the A-Academician’s f-finest work. M-men and *hic* w-women perfected by a-alchemy. T-the Academician e-even f-forged them into *hic* Pseudo-Adepts, h-hence they are c-called Aspirants.”
By the time he’d finished answering, blood had begun to drip from his nostrils and Zarathea could see that blood vessels in his eyes had burst. I doubt he’ll last much longer under this level of Compulsion. She thought to herself.
“And this Academician is?” She enquired, though she had a general idea by this point.
“Th-the f-founder *hic* a-and the h-highest authority o-of the Atheneum of Glass. Corvus Kassim. A-an *hic* Adept.” His final words came out in a gurgling whisper, while bloody tears had begun to stream down his face, and more blood leaked from his ears.
“Thank you for your answers, Frederick.” She said, lifting the compulsions binding him. With the pressure upon him released, the alchemist collapsed with rapid and shallow breathing. There’s one last thing I’ll have you do for me, though. She thought.
~
Drawing out a pouch that she’d worn around her neck for as long as she could remember, Zarathea retrieved a talisman of tarnished silver, set with dark stones. The talisman looked simple and unimpressive, shaped to resemble a dark bird soaring before the moon.
“Blood of the First Queen, song of my life...
Guide me to the threshold, to stand in Her presence.”
Zarathea stood before the prone forms of Frederick and his guards, all of whom were alive but unconscious as she invoked the ritual.
“Blood of the First Queen, fire of my soul…
Lead me through the Gate of Twilight, to stand in Her Shadow.”
As she incanted the second verse of the ritual, Zarathea could feel Her attention, time seemed to slow as the world was drained of colour.
“Ancestor, please… answer my call.
Your children are lost, and need your wisdom.”
Zarathea could feel her magic surging as she spoke the words. Aside from the first two verses and the final one, the ritual simply required that she voice her request sincerely, and that she may be answered, or she may not. Now, she prayed. Prayed that her ancestor would answer the call.
“Phasma Al’Castra, First of Her Name,
Hear my appeal; Dwell within me!”
With the final words spoken, Zarathea’s magic surged out of her control, pooling before her, forming tendrils of corporeal shadows, slowly rising to form a ghostly figure.
“I was rarely accused of being wise, child, but I suppose your request sounded sincere enough.” The shade spoke, her voice cold and imperious. “You know that there is a price to be paid for my being here, yes? Well then, show me why you have called me, and I will decide whether it warrants my aid.”
With those words, the shade flowed forward, blanketing Zarathea’s body before sinking beneath her skin. In her mind, she could feel another consciousness settle in, reading through her memories like words from a book. With all the years of her life laid bare before her Ancestor, Zarathea couldn’t help but feel exposed, as if her very existence was being weighed and measured.
“These mongrels dare!?” The space around her shook, and Zarathea coughed up a mouthful of blood following Phasma’s enraged cry, crumpling to the ground beneath the weight of her fury. “A-ancestor… I have brought some of them here to offer you. There are more of them nearby, preparing to capture all of us.” As she spoke, she showed Phasma her memory of the battle outside of the mountain, Nadia’s capture, and her interrogation of Frederick.
“These… these insects think that they can take from my blood?” Zarathea’s heart beat rapidly as Phasma’s rage seemed to reach a crescendo. “Good. Very good. It seems the savages need to be reminded of their place in this world.” She said, her voice now sharp and icy.
“You, descendant of mine, will help correct this violation. I will gift you a piece of my shadow, and in exchange,” Phasma’s words trailed off as tendrils of shadow condensed around Zarathea, piercing Frederick and each of his guards, seemingly without leaving any wounds.
As the tendrils withdrew though, they gripped ethereal wisps woven of infinitely complex threads, tied to their bodies, each one distinct and foreign. With a jerk, the shadow pulled on each of them, severing their connections, before bringing each one to the talisman, somehow submerging them within it.
“You will use it to tear their souls from their flesh, and place them within my talisman. That is the price of my aid.” The shadow pulsed around the talisman, seeming to renew its ancient and battered form. The tarnish vanished from the silver, and it took on a mysterious lustre while the dark stones set within radiated a dark and chilling presence. A chain of the same silver formed, settling the talisman around her neck with an icy touch.
As the transformation completed, Phasma spoke once more. “I do not demand all of them, but you will give me what I am due. If I do not receive the soul of this… Academician… if Corvus Kassim is not mine, then I will expect you to ensure that he suffers appropriately.”
Zarathea released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding as she felt her ancestor’s pressure and presence beginning to fade.
“Oh, and before I forget, I should warn you. If you should fail to settle this in a timely manner, I will inform the Throne of Magic." She said in a cool tone. "The one with whom you share an Oath may be spared the Dragonfire, but the rest of the humans… including the one she is searching for would not. Do not disappoint me, Zarathea. I will be watching your progress.”
With those final words, her ancestor’s presence faded, but the shade remained. Slowly and shakily rising to her feet, Zarathea reached a hand out to the shade. Touching it felt as though she’d submerged her hand in icy water, and as it flowed into her, that feeling spread throughout her body.
Deep within, she could feel it altering her mana, carving the magic of her progenitor onto her very soul. Shadow of the Queen.
Is the head honcho who now has a bounty on his soul inside the camp or did the shadow queen give an epic level quest?
As Frederick said, that's just a raiding party led by a pair of aspirants. Phasma wants revenge for him trying to steal her bloodline magic (she's the banshee progenitor). But yeah, asking for her help means doing what she says. In this case, if they don't deal with it, the humans are going to be purged from the world.
@Niraada like, all the humans?? They can do that? How are other species even alive at that point?
@drakensji Yes, all the humans. Yes, they can. The other surviving races haven't provoked a response warranting dragonfire.