Seraphina - Attack at Rievaulx Abbey (Patreon)

Art by Shahab

Reivaulx Abbey stood in silence, as it had for centuries. Its crumbled arches and stone skeletons, long abandoned by those who had once revered them, now bore only the weight of the wind and the quiet encroachment of the night. The sun had begun its descent, casting a bruised glow across the landscape, while shadows pooled in the hollowed remains like ink spreading across parchment.

From the air, a shimmer. Not visible to any mortal eye, but there, a ripple in the fabric of the world. It wavered, then tore itself open, quiet and unremarkable, save for the woman who stepped through it. Seraphina Blackthorne, the ever-pragmatic, ever-resentful Witch of Nexus, emerged into the ruins as the portal closed behind her with no more ceremony than the falling of a leaf.

She surveyed the abbey, her eyes tracing the fallen stones, the arches barely standing against the sky. There was nothing here for her but the past, and the memories of a place she would have preferred to forget. Her lips curled into a bitter smile as she whispered to herself.

"Reivaulx." The name lingered on her tongue like an old wound. "I’ll live to see you crumble entirely yet."

She wasn’t here for nostalgia. Seraphina drew in a breath, releasing it slowly, the chill air filling her lungs. With a single, practiced motion, she raised her hands, the gestures smooth and deliberate. The spell was ancient, older than the stones beneath her feet. The words, spoken in a language few still remembered, wove themselves into the air. Magic flickered, threads of energy shimmering in the gathering dusk, illuminating the space around her as though the twilight had momentarily brightened.

“Taispeáin dom an fhírinne,” she whispered, the incantation flowing like silk from her lips.

The energy settled, the light falling softly to the ground like the last breath of autumn, and then—nothing. Just the ruins. Just the silence.

Seraphina frowned.

The birds had stopped singing.

It was a small thing, easily overlooked by those who lived without a connection to the natural rhythms of the world, but Seraphina noticed it immediately. The wind, too, had stilled. The world had drawn in its breath, waiting. And then, like a knife cutting through the air, came a laugh—low, mocking, and full of something dark.

Seraphina spun, her hands already raised, magic crackling at her fingertips. “Who’s there?” she called, her voice sharp, a command more than a question. “Show yourself!”

Another laugh, this time closer, more intimate, as though the source of it had stepped just out of sight, enjoying the game.

“You’re angry,” came a voice, smooth and dangerous. It seemed to slip through the cracks in the abbey walls, curling around Seraphina like a snake coiling itself for a strike. “So much anger. I can feel it from here.”

Seraphina’s eyes narrowed, her magic sparking to life, a cold, crackling light. “If you know what I am, you’d be wise not to test me.”

The voice, a woman’s voice, chuckled softly. “Oh, but I do know what you are. And your anger—it’s beautiful.”

Out of the shadows, a figure stepped into the fading light. A woman, draped in a gown of dark blue and gold, her hair the color of the deepest part of the night sky. She moved with the grace of someone who had never known hesitation. Seraphina could feel the power radiating off her, like the scent of iron in the air before a storm.

“You’re not human,” Seraphina said, her voice low, wary. “What are you?”

The woman smiled, slow and knowing.

“Perhaps I am simply an Adept, such as yourself,” the woman said, her tone playful.

“No. You are something else. Ancient perhaps,” Seraphina retorted, her words clipped. “What are you doing here?”

“I am but a simple traveler. And my business is my own.”

“Do not test me,” Seraphina warned, her fingers now glowing with a flicker of deadly magic.

The woman’s laughter came again, soft, dangerous. “I seek a special someone. And I am told, perhaps reliably, two things: One, that they are to be found in this area,” she stepped closer, her gown rustling like the whisper of dry leaves. “And two: that you will try and stop me.”

Before Seraphina could react, the woman’s hands rose, and the air shifted. A bolt of pure, crackling energy shot forth, faster than Seraphina could counter. It struck her full in the chest, sending her sprawling backwards, the pain searing through her like fire in her veins.

She hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from her lungs. But Seraphina was not one to surrender so easily. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself to her feet, her fingers curling into the air once more as she called on her own magic. “Tonn!”

The spell flew from her fingertips, crackling with force—but as it neared the woman, it dissolved into nothingness, as if it had never existed. Seraphina’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing in her gaze.

She tried again, louder, more desperate this time. “Tonn Gáir!”

A larger surge of energy shot forward, roaring through the air—but again, it evaporated before it could reach its target. The woman laughed, her voice tinged with mockery.

“You cannot harm me here, Witch.”

Another strike came, brutal and swift. The woman’s magic slammed into Seraphina once more, driving her to the ground. Seraphina screamed, the sound tearing through the ruins, sharp and filled with anguish. The woman stood over her, her eyes glittering with cold amusement.

“I must admit, I expected more from Seraphina Blackthorne,” the woman said softly, almost as if disappointed.

Seraphina, her body trembling from the assault, forced herself up once again, her breath ragged. “Who... are you?” she managed, her voice weak, but defiant.

The woman’s expression softened into something almost fond. “I am the truth. The inevitable.”

Seraphina gritted her teeth, forcing her hand into the air one last time, but the woman’s magic surged forward again, swift and merciless. Seraphina’s cry echoed through the ruins, her body writhing in pain.

“And soon, your rage, your power, will be brought to bear on thousands,” the woman continued, her voice a whisper that cut like a blade.

Seraphina’s breath came in short gasps. “I will... not...” she tried to say, but her strength was failing.

The woman’s laughter filled the air, soft but terrible. “Who I am? I am every living thing in this town’s end.”

And with one final, devastating burst of energy, she unleashed a surge of magic so powerful it seemed to shake the very stones of the abbey itself. Seraphina’s scream filled the air one last time before the ruins fell silent once more.

The night had fully descended now, wrapping the abbey in darkness. Only the wind moved, soft and indifferent, as it swept through the arches that had stood for centuries, watching, waiting.