In the lower chamber of the tower. (Patreon)

"Outside yon door is nothing but death," the Ixies scolded me.  "We will be obliged to stop thee if thou tryest to throw thy life away recklessly."

"What about that one?" I asked, pointing to the archway that led out to the lowfolk world.

"Tis worth a try," the Ixies shrugged.

I ran into the tunnel and emerged in the circle of ancient stones deep in the lowfolk forest.

I approached the standing stones and felt myself stopped by an invisible barrier just inside the circle.

"This doesn't make sense," I opined.  "If it is Edessa's curse, why would it allow me to come all the way out here but then prevent me from leaving the circle?"

"Among the lowfolk, this stone circle is known as Albric Tor," an Ixie explained.  "Mayhap, for the purposes of thy doom, it is considered part of the city's environs."

After making a complete circuit of the stone ring and finding no gap in the invisible wall, I sighed and trudged back into the tunnel.  I climbed the spiral stairs onto the porch and looked sadly out across the blanket of sluggish green fog enshrouding the battlefield.  The sounds of conflict had become quieter - more feeble and sporadic.

"I think I might be able to Gramarye up some wind to blow this cloud away," I theorized.

"Art thou certain it would not swirl up here?" an Ixie asked.

I wasn't certain.

I climbed back down the stairs and out into the stone circle, where I practiced conjuring breezes for a while.

Once I had settled on the best technique, I returned to the tower porch.  It was almost completely silent now, except for an occasional clang which might have been a blow of weapon against armor, or it may have just been something falling over.

I carefully worded my Gramarye and called forth a gentle zephyr to waft the noxious cloud away.

I quickly recoiled in horror as the fog rolled away to show the field strewn with mangled bodies.  Wisps of evil green vapor curled up from the ground, even after the breeze had borne the heaviest cloud away.

"Didst thou mean to blow it into the city, Sire?" an Ixie asked politely.

I let out another cry of anguish as I looked up from the charnel tableau before me, to see the green fog seeping merrily through the city gates, which had been left open.

"I might be able to pook onto the wall from here," I mumbled stupidly.

"For what purpose?" the Ixie inquired.  "The field is impassable and the city is contaminated.  If thou missest thy pook, twill mean death.  And even if thou hittest the mark, is being stranded atop the wall preferable to being stranded here?"

I stared miserably across the field, trying not to think about what might be happening inside the city now.  A flock of carrion birds alighted in the field and began to pick disrespectfully at my former comrades.

Suddenly the birds attacked!

"SCATTER!" the Ixies yelled.  "The Plague hath gotten to them!"

Flailing my arms in sheer panic, I fled into the scrying tower and slammed the door behind me.

I huddled on the floor against the base of the scrying orb, and gave way to complete despair.  My bid for the Imperial crown had come to a most ignominious end.  This was it.  I was trapped; penned in by flocks of angry plague-ridden birds.  I had no idea how long the Plague of Battles would retain its potency, but I had a feeling it would last longer than I would.  I was going to die all alone in this dark, tiny room.  I had no way to get food.  Everybody I knew & cared about was dead, and it was my fault.  If anybody remembered me, it would be as the worst, most Unseelie villain in the entire history of Faerie.

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