Dakon’s spell engulfed the boardwalk, savagely turning the picturesque marketplace into a living nightmare of violence. Race, age, gender; none of it mattered. It was into this macabre massacre that Mal led Roland and Ban’Koliath. The trio became hard-pressed to keep themselves from being drawn into the madness. Wild eyes and guttural screams were the only responses the minotaur and mage received in their quest for answers.

“Leave them,” Roland said after the third attempt to coax a response from a crazed gnome, “they cannot be reasoned with nor understand us. They are under some kind of panic magic.”

“We need to get to Ian,” Ban’Koliath said after delivering a swift chop to the neck of the gnome in his grip, rendering him unconscious. He set the gnome down and covered him with a tarp and hoping it would be enough. “You heard his weapon. Can’t you do anything to pacify this crowd?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing? It’s all I can manage to get them to ignore us!” Roland hissed.

Mal’s ears perked up now and again as shouts echoed around the cramped alleyway. The shadow wolf was unconcerned about the people. With so much fear and anger permeating his every sense he had one goal; find Valethalassa. His vigilance paid off when, through the smoke and blood, he caught her scent. He let out a harsh bark to gain the other’s attention and bounded off.

“Mal!” The smelly one yelled but the wolf didn’t care; he didn’t stop. They were not his companion, and he could sense she needed him.

Ban’Koliath shoved and Roland used wind magic to move people out of the way as they pursued Mal through the chaos.

The trio and the pair were soon joined into a cohesive group as they fought off a small pack of goblins. After a swift brutal fight, where Ban’Koliath and the others fought to subdue, there was a swift exchange of stories. Roland produced the eggshell and Valethalassa explained why Ian was not with them.

“Ian’s gun went off after we dealt with the kobold impostor. But whatever magic is at work has made it nearly impossible to get through the crowded docks,” Valethalassa said as she finished tying up the last assailant. She knelt to rub under Mal’s chin. Roland cut through the air with his hand. The air he split flashed a deep red bursting like a hundred tiny fireworks.

“Rage poison. The spell corrupts the minds of all those touched by it. All they can see is that which they most despise. It stokes the flames of hatred until nothing of reality is left. A mother would wring the life from her child with no doubt in her mind that she was ridding the world of some phantom evil,” Roland said, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. “The closer we get to the source, the worse the destruction will be.”

“Then we can do little for these people,” Ban’Koliath said while looking out over the boardwalk, “There is a fire over there and that is where I heard Ian’s weapon," He set his jaw in a grim line, “We head that way.” Without preamble, he waded back into the chaos. The rest followed closely behind.

As they approached the market where Ian’s shot had come from Pandora let out a strangled sob. A body lay at her feet marred beyond recognition save for one crucial detail its size. It was the body of a child. The others fanned out beside her to look down at the tiny broken body as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“This… This isn’t what magic is meant for," Pandora whispered sobbing as quietly as she could manage.

“Magic is a tool,” Roland said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “And like all tools, it can be used for good or ill. You know that.”

“We cannot leave them like this,” Valethalassa said, her shoulders sagging as she looked over the carnage. Some of the grievously wounded were still alive and moaning, or screaming in pain. “Can you help them?” She asked Pandora.

“I will give what help I can and catch up,” Pandora replied after she tore down a cloth banner hanging from a lamp post. She used it to cover the body, then moved into the crowd and knelt by a man who had a longsword protruding from his leg.

“I won’t ask you to come," Ban’Koliath said, watching her go. “You have both done more than enough and this is not your fight.”

Valethalassa said nothing but nocked an arrow into her bow. Mal fell into step beside her.

“Shut up and lead on,” Roland replied taking a deep pull from his flask.

The four advanced into the growing smoky haze approaching the apex of the destruction. An unnatural silence had fallen over the previously bustling boardwalk. Bodies piled atop one another, puddles of blood, and shattered storefronts were only the beginning. The farther they went, the worse it got. The smoke became cloyingly thick so thick that no one knew if they were still heading the right way. More than once someone stumbled out of the haze to attack them.

“Hold,” Roland wheezed out when he could take no more. “I was hoping to spare us the nightmares. But we can’t proceed like this; it’s too dangerous.” A muffled clap later and a whirlwind kicked up. The smoke went soaring up and away clearing their field of vision.

It was a charnel house. Bodies, their flesh carved with obscene words, lined the street. Acts of unspeakable horror took place inside the broken shops and buildings behind veils of smoke. The scenes played out in a sadistic display of shadow puppetry. An incensed dwarf charged them from his hiding place a necklace of ears hung from his neck. Ban’Koliath brought his hammer down and rendered the gibbering dwarf, he hoped, unconscious and kept moving forward.

Roland and Valethalassa had been turning over bodies looking for survivors, but so far had found none. The mage did, however, find a familiar face lying broken on the ground. He waved his hand to gain his companions’ attention, “Over here!” Roland shouted.

Ban’Koliath and Valethalassa ran to him as he kicked the portly man over onto his back. To their surprise it was someone they recognized. Talazar lay with a pained grimace etched on his motionless face. He had over a dozen cuts and at least one deep wound in his abdomen and a ring of charred corpses lay around him.

“Farewell, Professor,” Roland muttered as he stepped over the body. A bloodied hand shot up and gripped Roland’s ankle.

“Wait,” Talazar coughed and drew in a ragged breath. “I know about your friend. I can help you!”

“No, you can’t. You never could,” Roland snarled kicking off Talazar’s hand, “Enjoy the Abyss.”

“You do not have long to redeem yourself in the eyes of the gods,” Ban’Koliath said, bringing his warhammer down to eye level with the broken mage. “Tell me where Ian is and I will end your suffering.”

Talazar coughed and a thick near-black trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth. His outstretched hand pointed towards the inferno raging ahead of them. And as though it had been summoned by his motion, another gunshot rang out from that direction.

“Dakon...has him,” Talazar wheezed through pain clenched teeth.

Hefting his hammer up Ban’Koliath nodded, “May Shirah’s judgment be fair.”

The hammer fell with a thundering clap.

The minotaur ran to catch up to Valethalassa and Roland who had rushed ahead at the sound of the shot. Mal was already pacing back and forth in front of the blaze blocking their way. Roland was trying to douse it with water magic but it wasn’t working. In fact, it seemed to be making it spread even further.

“That moronic infant!” Roland shouted, “This is not ordinary fire and I suspect we have Talazar to thank for that. I require time to determine the modification he did before I can counter it.”

“Ian?!” Valethalassa shouted over the inferno.

……

Ian managed to extricate himself from Dakon’s clutches with a well-timed shot. He’d hoped a point-blank headshot would be fatal but Dakon’s reflexes were extraordinary. The bullet merely grazed along the side of his cheek but it was enough to cause him to stumble and lose his grip.

Ian hit the rubble pile and fell, scrambled, and climbed down the shifting mass onto the cobblestone. He reasoned that if Dakon could dodge gunshot from inches away there was little point in trying to fight. Escape became the clear option. He holstered his gun looking for a defense of some kind as he ran.

“Don’t fight the inevitable, little man,” Dakon called after Ian, his voice was laced with malice and anger rather than the neutral tone of indifference. His hand fell away revealing a white streak along his cheek. The only sign of damage from the gunshot. Dakon’s eyes narrowed to slits as he crushed through the pile of debris. He kicked aside stone blocks the size of shopping carts as though they were a pile of feathers in his pursuit. His pace was the slow, deliberate pace of a predator stalking its prey. The walk conveyed there would be no escape, no respite, no rescue.

Ian spotted and seized a shield. It didn’t cover his entire body but he could at least hold this one with ease. He heard cracking cobblestones behind him as Dakon came trudging steadily along. Casting a glance over his shoulder Ian realized there was not enough distance between them. Though he truly doubted there ever could be.

Dakon hit the ground and, in a flash, closed the short distance between them. Ian barely had enough time to get the shield up when Dakon reared his left arm back and sent a heavy fist towards him. The jarring impact sent him sliding backward and numbed his entire arm. How he remained on his feet he didn’t know, but he held on valiantly to the shield and inched his way back. His eyes darting around looking for a way out of this mess.

It’s a shame you had to get too close to that blacksmith,” Dakon said, flexing his fingers eliciting a disturbing cracking sound from his knuckles. “His work is truly impressive; that shield should have shattered. But now he’s dead because of you. How many more will you allow to die?”

Ian couldn’t deny his guilt at the death of the smith. But, for now, he pushed it aside knowing that Dakon was playing with him. But the hesitation from Dakon inspired a thought in Ian. Maybe the gunshot actually hurt him. Maybe… there’s hope. Ian saw a flash in the air above Dakon and then the very embodiment of Ian’s hope came into view. He began laughing.

“Oh, no one else is going to die. Just you,” Ian said, a smile crept across his face.