I was stunned by the magnitude of the spell I had cast. It hadn’t happened since I learned my first fireball spell and the explosion from it scared me. The mages beside me at the time had faces of excitement and thrill at their newfound ability to cause such explosions, but I was instead frightened at the power at my disposal. I don’t think I had felt that feeling in a long time. The bolt of lightning called forth by the [Finger of the gods] spell I redesigned was so powerful that it would have killed me had I been closer.

When the shock of witnessing my own spell faded, so too had my anger. Instead, I felt empty, both of mana and anger. I wasn’t, of course, but the emotion was strong. I closed my eyes and pulled back the simmering remnants of the anger and pain I felt, and stuffed them into the barrels in the back of my mind. I knew it was growing crowded there, and even my recent attempts to purge old pains was insufficient.

With my newfound clarity, though, I regretted my actions, and was appalled by my carelessness. The scorched earth around the strike was cleared of all trees for miles around it, and beyond that I could see smoke from growing fires. I glanced down at the corpse of the seer below me and wondered to myself just how far into the future she had seen to warrant her actions.

I wanted to retreat back to my tower and throw myself into research to forget about the pain and anger. To put time between it and me so that its strength was lessened. Hesitantly, I admitted to myself, I also wanted to hide from the shame of my overreaction. But I had a duty to put out those fires before they consumed the countryside. I doubted the circle of smoke would grow to a blaze that compared with what I did to the Tervan jungles, but I was able to learn from my mistakes.

With caution, I flew back towards the strike site, using [Fire Manipulation] to kill the flames, and summoning water elementals to come behind me and smother any embers. Most of the fires were at the edge of the circle of destruction, though some minor ones burned from lightning that had struck further away. Here and there, I saw minor lightning wisps, but I paid them no mind. They would expire quickly enough on their own.

I was halfway around the circle, numb to anything that wasn’t the task at hand when I first saw movement.

The ground at the center of the strike had been blown away, leaving a deep crater in the earth. That crater was blackened and scorched, parts of the rocks and ground had been twisted into smooth rocks, that glimmered like glass when not covered with ash. Streaks of metals and other things bled and twisted into the stone in a mockery of the natural. Yet that ground in the crater began to crumble and fall, as if the earth beneath it were hollow. In the very center, the movement I saw wasn't the falling of earth but the head of a great serpent flicking its tongue. No, not the head of a serpent.

The heads of a hydra. First one, looking upwards out of the hole to take in its surroundings. Then more. I recalled the dwarves telling me that they battled the hydra beneath the earth, and began to consider the scope of what that truly meant. With a growing sense of horror, I realized what I had done: I had opened a new path for the Pestilence to emerge.

I quickly cast an arcing blade of flames, severing the heads that I could see and waited. I fearfully reasoned with myself. Perhaps it was just the one. A single hydra left behind the swarm, but that thought was quickly disproved as I saw more heads emerge and heard the sounds of the monsters eating their own dead.

I didn’t have the mana to cast the [Finger of the gods] spell again, not at the moment. I had used up all that was in the lanterns I carried, a quarter of what was in the tower, and half my body's reserves to call forth the spell that killed the woman, that cursed assassin. I again berated myself for my hasty actions, my regret at allowing myself to be overcome by emotions was on the precipice of self-loathing. However, now was not the time--I had to do something and do it quickly.

I reached my mind back to my tower and began pulling the mana needed to cast the spell I had in mind. The earth around the crater was already dead and broken. It didn’t take difficult calculations to alter the spell for the field of spikes to turn it into a trap for the Pestilence. Miles of broken dirt and rock soon became enormous deadly spikes, spikes as sharp as I could make them.

I watched on as the hydra impaled themselves. It should be enough for any but an armored hydra or a broodmother, but the fear of those two wretched beings freeing the others kept me working. I withdrew the death crystals I had in my magical bag, embedding them into the sharpest and largest of the spikes throughout the enormous field. My lightning strike had generated enough death mana to cause them to grow as soon as they were placed, and they spread like twisted little trees.

As I finished the great trap, I breathed a sigh of relief. The fires still burned in the distance, but now I saw them as a good thing. Any hydra that escaped this pit would find little nearby to eat. In the center, I watched as the ones that emerged impaled themselves on spikes. The trapped and squirming bodies were quickly set upon by their kin, who were impaled themselves in turn.

The ever increasing number dead monsters gave off more death mana causing more spikes of death crystal to grow. Each possessed a wicked sharpness and I couldn’t help but offer my trap a grim smile as I watched it work until nightfall.

Once the dark set in, I concluded I had done what could be done to stem the tide of monsters for now. I left an air elemental so that I could check back tomorrow to ensure it was working.

Slowly, I returned towards my tower, bringing along the corpse of the seer in a stone coffin for proper burial. Whatever her motivations, she had given her life and saved mine.

The next day, I visited the Necromancer Pyl. He was the only one who had fought the assassin and survived, though just barely. He was being cared for at the temple of Elora, though their magics hurt him more than helped. According to the sister that led me to him, the death mana his magics used during the fight had infected him, and his control over it was the only thing keeping him alive. The sisters' holy magics might heal parts of his flesh, but doing so weakened his hold over the death mana. Still, the sisters cared for him. They washed and cleaned his wounds, bandaged him, and fed him.

I hadn’t been inside the tower temple since it was built, mostly due to my general fear of all the gods, but I did seek him out to speak with him as soon as I learned that he would be passing soon. The bottom of their tower held an altar, a few cots, and a long table with chairs. The altar, a flat stone with a carved bird, was surrounded with lit sacred candles. Their light shone just a little more brightly than a normal candle would. Great windows had also been built into the temple, allowing rays of sunlight in from outside.

My eyes were focused on the man who lay sweating on the cot before me. I watched Pyl as he struggled with his pain, fading into and out of consciousness. His normal cheerful expression twisted into a grimace. He held a hand on the shoulder of the other arm, though that arm was now dead flesh. A leg had been removed at the thigh; the cloth bandages around the stump soaked with blood. I quietly waited and watched for several long moments lost among the sounds of his uneven breathing and the sisters murmured prayers.

He did awake, though, and whispered. “Master Nemon, you are here."

I mustered a sad smile and gave him a nod. It hurt me to see such a man in pain. I remembered clearly the love of magic that he always kept. A deep enthusiasm that reminded me of my own.

“I couldn’t stop her. I was too late.”

His words were spoken with regret or guilt, but I just shook my head. “You did what you could, and that was enough.”

He took several wheezing breathes before speaking again, “Master, I want to do one final experiment. I need your permission. And your guidance.”

My brows furrowed. One final experiment? Did this have to do with the mirror? My thoughts were so far away from the artifact that I’d forgotten about it. Yet, now I couldn’t help but wonder if I could reach Loralie through it. If her ghost were on the Plane of Death, then perhaps she could speak with me from the other side. If not, perhaps I would at least be able to bid her a final farewell. That would be a rare blessing. Pyl’s next words though brushed my thoughts away.

“It’s in the crypt beneath your lake. I’ve been preparing for this day, though I thought I had more time. Will you take me there and watch over me?”

“In the crypt?” I asked, puzzled.

His back arched and he grunted in pain before speaking again, his words spoken urgently. “It will be my last request. Will you aid me?"