Chapter 507: Desperate Hope (Patreon)

Amidst the dark storm clouds raging above Hollow Shade branches of jade lightning burst forth and converged on Kaleidrog. The dragon lord roared as the lightning crackled through his scales and erupted in an explosion of magic.

 A small figure broke through the clouds and flew past the explosion. Ananta, Queen of the Titans, and Goddess of the Deep Earth, kept flying until she had made a considerable distance from the dragon.

Her breath was heavy and her skin was slick with sweat. Her right arm was missing from above the elbow, leaving only a mangled stump behind, courtesy of Kaleidrog’s fangs. His chromatic magic was burrowing into her flesh, hindering her body’s regeneration. It felt like poison burning through her veins.

Kaleidrog had grown stronger. Far stronger than he had been 6,000 years ago. She hadn’t expected this, even for a dragon lord. His power was beginning to reach the heights of Vismarya the Dragon King.

The thought of what Kaleidrog and the other dragon lords had done to her late husband curled her blood and made her body burn with an inner fire. The oily sensation of void mana surged out from her heart and filled her body. Her skin faded into a pale grey and her muscles began to undulate beneath the skin. The sheen of her pale jade almost-white hair dimmed and grew dark. The corroding flesh on her stump burned away and a new arm grew back in mere moments. 

Newfound void power flowed through her veins. Ananta swayed in the air from side to side. She closed her eyes and clenched her jaw.

Not like this. Calm down. Calm down. Calm…

She couldn’t let her emotions get the best of her now, not when she was exhausted and injured. If she did, even for a moment, her void nature could take over. She would lose control and the blood of her sire, Unildyr, would consume her consciousness.

A memory of the first day she awoke a thousand years ago flickered in her dimming mind. The horror in the newborn Lin Lu’s eyes when she gazed upon her Void nature in its truest form.

Ananta couldn’t lose control, not like that. Not when they were this close to achieving their plans.

She needed control.

For Lin Lu. For the titans of old. For the World Soul.

She repeated her mantra over and over in her mind. Her heartbeat slowed down, the muscles ceased to shake, the glowing sheen of her pale hair returned, and her grey skin regained its warm brown color.

A silver wave of mist curling around the city’s wall caught her eye. Ananta looked at the world below with a wry grin.

“My oh my, Lunae, you surprise me… You really made a move, despite knowing what would happen.” She glanced down at the purple flashes of fox fire burning bright in the dark streets. Lin Lu was fighting against the moon goddess and slowly overwhelming her.

Had Lunae waited until the full moon or even only a sliver of the moon, then perhaps things would have been different. But this was precisely why Ananta had chosen this moonless night to invade. She would tolerate the interference of others no longer.

A flicker of red magic drew Ananta’s notice. A bright beacon of magic in the swirling darkness of the battlefield. True Chromatic Red magic.

 Ananta’s lips curled into a wide smile.

 I found you… Maeve Mora.

She opened her mind and called out to her dragonbanes.

Bring the True Red mageborn to me and destroy the Ebon Tower.

Oshnyr, the greatest of the dragonbane, heard her call, but he was engaged against half a dozen dragons alone. He would need some time before he finished them off.

Ananta repeated her commands once more. And this time, three other dragonbanes answered her call. They had already killed and consumed a dragon or two each and their bloodthirst had been satiated, for now.

With a quick mental command, Ananta ordered Xyloth to go after the girl, he alone would be enough. The Ebon Tower was more important and she sent Lyrak and Krylkos to destroy it.

The three dragonbanes roared in acquiescence and flew out from the storm clouds and straight towards their destinations. 

A fourth roar, deeper and filled with rage, echoed above the clouds. The azure dragon lord emerged from the smoke and lightning. Blood seeped from several burned scales, but his eyes were bright with power.

Ananta took a deep tired breath and faced the massive dragon swooping down at her. “Kaleidrog, old friend… Die.”

Emerald lightning erupted from the clouds and clashed against chromatic dragon fire.

~~~

Lady Calantha, leader of House Ashe and High Priestess of Hollow Shade, watched the city guards stand by the gates of the Central District and usher the fleeing citizens of her city inside the small, but mostly empty area.

Where other districts held numerous homes, shops, academies, or other buildings, the Central District had few buildings. It was the smallest of the districts, nestled right at the very center of the city, and it was more of a large plaza than anything. Besides the Ebon Tower, there were only a few structures; the city council chambers, the high temple of the Ebon Pantheon, and a couple of government buildings. The cobblestone streets were usually kept empty for city officials, priests, and petitioners; except on festivals, where the district was open to all.

On Lady Calantha’s command, tonight the gates were open to every citizen, though it was not for any merry festival. People, wounded and bleeding, stumbled and staggered into the district. Their homes had been destroyed by trebuchet fire, barbarian attacks, or something entirely worse. Beasts of an unnatural nature Calantha did not understand.

She stood below the Ebon Tower and watched her people pour into the plaza weak, exhausted, and scared. Contrary to its name, the Ebon Tower wasn’t truly a tower, but an obelisk, two obelisks, in fact. The two ebon-black spires sat atop a large round podium of marble, opposing one another, side-by-side, reaching towards the sky for all to see. Strange markings were etched into the smooth black stone that not even she could read. Similar markings decorated the marble floor underneath, each sigil inlaid with gold.

Calantha stood alone at the top of the marble steps leading up to the Tower. A spire on both sides of her, a burning city looming behind her, and the broken people of the plaza standing in front of her. It was from this vantage point that she would ordinarily give a rousing speech of hope, loyalty, and faith on the Festival of the Gods. Yet now she found herself grateful for the dim lights of the magestone light posts decorating the plaza. None could see her troubled expression in the darkness.

Her personal House Guards stood at the base of steps of the marble platform, pushing anyone who dared draw too close. Even during festivals ordinary citizens weren’t allowed near the Ebon Tower. That didn’t stop them from trying, their hands reaching out towards their High Priestess hoping she had the answers to their plight.

Where was Bellum? 

Calantha had prayed to her goddess without sleep for the last several days, but there had been no answer. Perhaps it was because Calantha’s cousin Belle, daughter of the War Goddess herself, had failed to return from Undergrowth. Perhaps Bellum was angry with them and this was her way of punishment.

Calantha looked up at the night sky covered in dark storm clouds, and the dragons and monsters fighting above.

Perhaps the gods had abandoned them.

~~~

Unalla Noir walked with determination into the Central District. Though most drows were tall, she was not, even among human and vampire women she was small. She slipped past the taller folks and where groups of men and women were tightly packed, she channeled Brown and pushed them apart with enhanced strength.

The rainfall wasn’t as strong here, at the center of the city, like the eye of a storm. But the sound of the thunder cracking above them was as clear here as anywhere else.

As Unalla moved, she tried her best to ignore the dust and ash-smeared faces, the cries of the injured and mourning, and the smell of sweat and blood thick in the air. She kept her head down and focused on each step.

She pushed aside a particularly burly orc who refused to move and staggered forward. There was no one else in front of her. She had broken through the crowd of refugees. Looking up, she saw the Ebon Tower looming above her.

Her limbs ached and her muscles burned, but she smiled, a small almost imperceptible curl of her lips. She had made it. 

Dragging one foot in front of another she walked to the marble steps leading up to the black spires.

A group of guards in silver and white armor blocked her path with a line of shields and swords.

“Get back!” shouted one of the guards. “All of you, get back!”

All of you…?

Unalla turned around and noticed the throng of refugees surging forward, trying to get up the marble steps.

“I said get back!” the guard brandished his sword in a wide arc.

Unalla stumbled back, barely evading the attack. Her reflexes were slow, her body felt sluggish. What little mana was left in her burned like a candle in the dark, flickering every second, and easily snuffed out by a strong wind.

Her mind was drifting…

No.

She shook her head. “You don’t understand, I need to get up those stairs.”

“You need to back off,” a guard growled.

“Stay your blade, soldier,” called out a vampiress from atop the steps.

She was dressed in long white robes with silver lining, contrasting her dark skin, and bright scarlet eyes. Her gaze froze the guards in place and her commanding presence seemed to swallow the storm and darkness all around them, leaving her almost like a guardian statue watching over them all.

“My lady!” the guards inclined their heads all at once.

“And which lady are you?” Unalla asked warily.

“I am Calantha Ashe, High Priestess of Hollow Shade. More importantly, that sword… is it…?” Her eyes lingered on Votum hanging on Unalla’s back. “Who are you, girl?”

“Nalla— No, I am Unalla of the House of Noir. I need to get to the Ebon Tower.”

“I am friends with House Noir and there is no one by that name.” Calantha narrowed her eyes. “Who are you and what are you planning to do with that sword?”

“I don’t have to explain… You wouldn’t understand…”

“I see. Whoever you really are, I cannot let you destroy the tower with that blade.”

“I’m not trying to destroy the tower! I’m trying to save this city!”

Calantha stared at her, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “...Guards arrest that woman and seize her sword.”

“Yes, my lady!”

“No!” Unalla drew Votum and the orichalcum blade hummed in her hands.

“You can actually wield it…?” Calantha whispered. “Who are you?”

“I told you already. I only want to help. Please, let me pass.”

Calantha bit her lip. “ I—”

A deep guttural roar sundered the shouts and pleas of the crowd. The dragonbanes Lyrak and Krylkos swooped down and crashed into the plaza. Their spiked tails whipped through the crowd, crushing their bodies and sending them flying. The people screamed in terror and tried to run, but there was nowhere to flee.

“They’re here…!” Unalla gasped.

“Guards, defend the people!” Calantha shouted.

The captain of the guard blared his war horn, signaling all the Ashe soldiers in the district to battle. They drew their blades and rushed from every side of the plaza towards the dragonbanes, but the fleeing crowds pushed them back, trampling over several of the guards in sheer terror.

“You can’t stop them!” Unalla yelled.

“And you can!?” Calantha snapped. 

“I don’t know…” she admitted. “But there is still hope, one last hope. Please, let me try.”

Calantha stared at the young woman and then at Votum, her expression indeterminable. The deafening roar of the Krylkos drew back her attention. Calantha gripped her staff tightly, “Let her through, Captain. And you three, protect her at whatever costs. The rest of you, with me.”

“Yes, my lady!” The guards nodded and rushed to Calantha’s side as she rushed down the stairs and into the crowd straight at Krylkos.

The guard captain and two of his men hurried over to Unalla’s side and nodded in grim understanding. “For our Lady’s sake, we will protect you to the end.”

Unalla nodded gratefully and ran up the marble steps. Her legs were lead and fire burned in the soles of her feet with each step, but she pushed one step at a time until she reached the top.

She made her way to the very center of the platform, right in between both obelisks. Unalla closed her eyes and tried her best to ignore the blood curdling screams of the dying all around her. 

It had only been a few days since she had sat here with Holo, though it seemed so long ago now. Holo had held her orichalcum scythe, Lyrae, in her hands. The edge of the scythe had burned with a ghostly flame. A beacon, Holo had called it. A beacon in the darkness for another to find their way here.

Holo had waited days for the one she called Nel. A last hope, she said.

“One last hope,” Unalla muttered. “Please, if you’re out there, Nel… please, we need you.” 

She took a deep heavy breath and raised Votum high above her head. She channeled her mana into the sword the way Holo had taught her and the sharp edge of the black blade ignited with white flames.

Pain tore through her flesh like serrated nails being hammered into her muscles and bone. Unalla cried out in shock and agony. 

How had Holo managed this for hours on end?

The pain spread from Votum’s handle, burning through her veins and sinking into her chest. It splintered into thousands of sharp needles, small piercing points of fire burning through her entire body.

Tears fell down her grey cheeks and she fell to one knee, still, she held the blade aloft. 

 Lyrak spotted the drow girl and her strange sword, so similar to his master’s own weapon. He barreled through the crowd, crushing countless beneath his paws. The captain of the guard and his two soldiers stood at the base of the steps and met the dragonbane with a warcry.

Blood flowed freely from Unalla’s trembling fingertips now. The veins around her arms had darkened to a sickly black. Her eyes burned and it felt as if her heart was about to burst.

Unalla thought of her mother and her uncle, Elzri. She remembered the moment Elzri had made up his mind, the sheer certainty in his eyes as he made the ultimate sacrifice. Not for himself, but for her.

Unalla wouldn’t let his sacrifice be in vain.

She clenched her teeth and screamed in defiance. The ghostly flames of her blade flickered in and out as the last of her strength gave way. She collapsed. Her hands clenched around Votum in a deathly grip. The fire flickered one last time and died out, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke.

The wisp curled above the sword in a loose trail. A mote of blue light sparked to life at its tip and sliced down the wisp in a straight line. The line split apart and tore the space wide open, revealing a whirling mass of darkness and turbulent energies inside.

A warrior clad in armor stepped out from the scar as it closed behind her. She wore no helmet, but a simple golden circlet with a single emerald at its center. Long chestnut hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her skin was pale and her lips were thin. An orichalcum shield rested atop her back and on her hilt was an orichalcum longsword.

The warrior stared at the bloody scene unfolding across the plaza. “Holo, what have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered.

Unalla looked up blearily and with a ragged voice, she whispered, “Nel…?”

The warrior glanced down and cocked her head to the side, “Did Holo send you?”

Unalla nodded weakly. “Are you Nel?”

“Is Holo still calling me that?” She sighed and shook her head, “Holo and her stupid games. It’s Mel.”

“Mel?”

Lyrak roared hungrily from the bottom of the steps. The guard captain and his men were little more than smears of blood viscera now. The dragonbane stared at the two women standing at the top and charged them, his claws tearing at the steps.

“Well, actually, it’s Melantha.” She raised her outstretched hand calmly as Lyrak leaped at her. 

The world quieted and the air took on a distinct metallic scent. With a blinding flash of light, a shower of lightning rained down from the sky and struck Lyrak, sending him flying backward like a skipping stone. The sky roared with thunder as lightning hurled down in an endless pillar of blue light as if tens of thousands of spears fell upon a single point.

Lyrak roared and tried to stand, but the shower of lightning slammed him into the ground. Its destructive power overwhelmed his magical immunity and burned his flesh. The onslaught of lightning tore through his body destroying not only flesh but the bones underneath, until all that was left was a crater of hot-red melted rock, and charred shattered bones.

Unalla stared in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth agape. She could practically taste the chromatic mana filling the air. To possess let alone control such sheer amounts of chromatic energies all at once… It made Elzri and Una’s magic seem small in comparison.

“Melantha…?” Unalla whispered. A shiver ran up her spine as recognition dawned on her. “You’re Melantha the Blue?!”

She turned to Unalla, her lilac eyes bright with power, and smiled confidently. “Nice to meet you.”