Órfhlaith was lifted upon a large boulder by one of her attendants, she unwrapped her double bladed “butterfly” sword as she looked over her “soldiers,” all miners and smiths of inner Rhode. They wore little by means of clothing, absolutely nothing in terms of armor, unless one considered the leather smocks some wore. Though men of Runandia and Briternica often did go into battle wearing only mail under flamboyant coats, they never went to battle shirtless as far as Aichlan knew.

“…So, what do I say?” She whispered to her aid, who shrugged in response. “Some help you lot are. Yer fired come mornin’.”

She shrugged and adjusted the ungainly yellow bow that held up her considerably long hair. The ‘commander’ continued a flirtatious conversation with a fellow advisor as the enemy war horns sounded through the basin. The rest of the troops just sort of milled about and carried on conversations about new pieces they were working on or marital problems they were having. They were thoroughly unprepared for what lay ahead. They had no ranks, nor made any attempt to form them. There was no direction or role assigned, nor was there a method in place to communicate once battle began. Their disregard and ignorance of basic military tactics and practice annoyed Aichlan to no end. He shoved aside a smoking elf and marched toward the front of the crowd. Eth halted Aichlan by placing a hand on his shoulder as he made a move to take Órfhlaith’s place upon the rock.

“As much fire as ye bring tae the council, yer tellin’ me ya can’t give a lil’ hate speech tae rally the troops?” Eth shouted, still slurring heavily.

Órfhlaith took a deep breath and thought for several moments before turning away, ignoring him.

“Speech woman!” Eth shouted again, starting a chant amongst the miners. “Speech!”

“Damn it Eth…”

Órfhlaith exhaled irritably, motioning with her hands for all to be quiet. She looked them all over, shooting Eth a dirty look in passing. Aichlan relaxed slightly as he took a step back and awaited her off-the-cuff speech.

“This bastard killed our brothers and sisters returning from doing trade in Alfheim, with neither cause nor reason! Now he marches upon our home! You all know what must be done to remedy the audacity of this fool mortal who likens himself a god in the realm of man! We shall show him that the Colby-Nau are nae to be so easily trampled upon as those of the rest o’ Silex! We rule the very ground he walks upon! And shall halt his advance here and now! Smiting the very memory of his name! Let this Osric learn the folly of his arrogance and prove once and for all the miners place upon the mountain!”

Órfhlaith cried out, raising her weapon into the air, rallying her men; and issuing the charge as the first couple thousand Xanavien soldiers entered the basin. Aichlan was impressed at the passion of her impromptu rallying speech, until he realized that she issued a premature order to charge.

“The bloody fool! She’s giving them the high ground!” Aichlan exclaimed in disbelief.

Aichlan attempted to fight his way through the throng and halt the charge, but the riled-up miners had already begun their haphazard assault. To his dismay, the other clusters of warriors followed her lead. Aichlan swore and doubled back, reluctantly motioning for his group to follow the ill-advised order to attack.

The valley erupted in the thunder of bare feet upon the packed soil and the war cry of half a million angry elves as they charged headlong into the enemy formation, still marching to the staging area.

The hammer-wielding smiths charged to the front. They leapt over the pike lines or broke through to bring their hammers crashing down, leaving small craters filled with crushed soldiers. Fissures of rock and fire swallowed equestrians and entire squadrons as the hammer wielding elves combined brute force with their mastery over the elements.

The Xanavien archers open fire, filling the sky with their arrows as the sword wielding Colby-Nau of the warrior tribes rushed in using their massive blades as shields and rams. They broke off to the right and left at the last second, flanking Osric’s forces as those loose ranks behind took their place. The effect was like waves breaking upon a rocky shore. The pickaxe-wielding miners ran in behind swordsman and hooked several screaming Xanaviens on their blades, tossing them in all direction as they cleared a path towards the bowman.

The swordsmen then charged through the ranks from the sides, swinging wildly, launching viscera into the air. Enemy ranks, not fully formed, broke. The disorganized mess of Osric’s army turned to flee back up the basin in face of the ferocity of the attack. The ensuing bottleneck of soldiers fleeing back into those still marching onward created even more of a panic and the ranks quickly dissolved. The battle became a brawl. The Colby-Nau, wittingly or not, played fire against fire, using Osric’s own tactic of shock, awe, and overwhelming force against them. The ballistae and trebuchets creaked and twanged nonstop as they rained flaming bolts and massive chunks of stone upon the Colby-Nau forces amassed in the basin. The engines fired indiscriminately in the vain attempt to allow their soldiers reprieve enough to regroup. Soon, the fields of lower Rhode were engulfed in flame.

The mass of elven warriors bunched together, jostling one another to reach the fray and push those in the front forward, creating chaos on both sides. Confusion reigned; twenty-fold worse than what Aichlan had experienced in Arlien. There was no way of telling up from down as he was shoved hither and thither. He looked overhead, as that was the only place spared from the mayhem. Lightning and blades of razor wind rained down upon the opposition from behind him, no doubt Alice was its source.

As the ranks opened up, Aichlan dashed through the confused mob of shirtless elves to meet an equally confused mob of black clad soldiers trying to escape. His heart pounded in his chest as he came to a stop, unsure of where to go or how to proceed. The decision was made for him when he made eye contact with a Xanavien, who raised his sword and charged towards Aichlan.

Aichlan raised his own sword and edged his way closer to his adversary, only for the would-be opponent to crumple into a lifeless heap when an elf blindsided him with a mighty swing of a warhammer. The sound of a sword slicing through the air to his left caused Aichlan to leap back in surprise. He reflexively swung, and his attackers arm sailed through the air, his weapon clattered uselessly to the ground. A javelin impacted near Aichlan’s feet, and he pressed on, leaving the engagement unresolved.

A hammer-wielding elf barreled past and smashed a cluster of Osric’s soldiers fighting a Warrior, creating an opening for his allies to push through. The elf then turned and clubbed an approaching Xanavien, breaking him before sending him crashing into a group of his comrades. The screams of terrified and dying men drowned out the battle cries of bloodthirsty elves as they surged up the hill.

Several eruptions of fire at the vanguard brought with them renewed forward progress. Aichlan recalled a similar occurrence with Kielan in the marsh. It seemed that each time a Colby-Nau was struck or became engrossed in the thrill of battle; they went into a berserker trance, giving in to the tendencies of the latent flame within. Or so it had been explained to him. Their eyes went white as pupils dilated and body temperatures rose, canines extend, and their tattoos, the ink being made of heavy metals, began to glow white-hot, giving the appearance of flowing magma. Their ferocity and strength seemed doubled as flames swirled around them.

The elves quickly decimated the enemy vanguard, further shattering the enemies malformed lines. Aichlan had yet to really engage a single man. A rain of sparks started to pour down, weak at first, and then it increased in ferocity over time. The craters filled with gore as a stream of blood flowed down the hill into the basin. The ground erupted suddenly in several places, and spewed lava and volcanic rocks as those wielding hammers were lost to the blood rage. The enemy faced death at the hands of not only the enraged elves, but also the eruptions and falling molten rock.

Aichlan ceased his advance and searched for the rest of his group and a means to escape. He was not sure whether the mountain was about to blow or if the Colby-Nau were somehow responsible for the tremors. The battlefield resembled a barroom brawl, neither side had any semblance of formation. The lines had dissolved, Aichlan was just as likely to bump into a fleeing Xanavien as he was an allied elf. The ground shook sporadically as the source of the spark rain appeared to be the mountain of Rhode.

Aichlan ducked as a pickaxe-wielding elf flung a horse and rider overhead. The beast crushed several soldiers as it tumbled and wounded several more as it bucked in the throes of death. With no option to go back, Aichlan pushed forward with the throng.

A rock from a trebuchet hit the ground and bounced three times before it started rolling, taking out several elves as Aichlan pushed up the basin, searching out Osric. A cheer went up as several elves managed to reach the siege engines and set two of them alight.

* * *

Taryn shot two and three arrows at a time as she attempted to hold her position. While most of the Xanaviens were being forced back up the basin, several divisions had circumvented that cluster fuck and now attempted to flank the few clans that had stayed back. Her arrows were dwindling fast as she attempted to stave them off. Eventually she had to abandon her position as the miners around her dispersed. Maleah rode beside her, fending off those of the enemy forces that did not or could not flee. She slashed and stabbed deftly with her lance, her mount working independently, though perfectly in sync with the rider as she forged her path deeper into the enemy ranks, leaving Taryn to deal with the ones she missed.

“Oi! You lazy bitch! You’re lettin ‘em through!”

Taryn swore upon receiving no reply and placed an arrow square in the face of an enemy at thirty-five yards. The wake of carnage left behind by Maleah quickly filled with new soldiers. Taryn launched off several more arrows in rapid succession as she ran to Maleah’s side.

“D’ya hear me ya heifer!” Taryn screamed as she launched an arrow at a charging soldier. “Yer lettin’ the buggers through!”

“What the hell do I look like to you?” Maleah snapped as she struck her opponent in the temple with the butt of her lance.

“Like a bloody tramp now cover my arse!” Taryn cried as she drew a kukri knife and slashed an opponent’s throat, launching in to kick another in the groin.

More came as Taryn launched two arrows in rapid succession, followed with a slash to an infantryman that got too close. She grasped at the quiver at her hip, finding it woefully low on arrows.

“Gods damn it. I need more arra’s woman!”

Maleah reared her horse and knocked a man from his mount with a short charge. She turned the horse around, removed a bag from her saddle, and tossed it to Taryn before spearing two more foot soldiers. Taryn looked at the small sack with confusion and was shocked to find it full of arrows upon opening. Despite the sack being little more than a coin purse, it held over a hundred full sized arrows. Taryn looked up to ask what sorcery Maleah had given her, but she had spurred her horse on again and left her alone in a sea of foes.

“Fooking bitch!” Taryn nocked an arrow and sent it through a pikeman’s sternum. “Get back ’ere!”

* * *

An enemy general sounded the retreat as the disorganized forces scrambled back up the hill to the fire plains. Séverin was a blur of gray and violet as he tore through the ranks, slashing the throats of the fleeing soldiers, moving so swiftly that the terrified soldiers did not notice his presence as he dashed through their midst.

The rain of stone from a handful of trebuchets continued, even as the elves began to target the siege machines. A fleeing soldier fell into a fissure that opened beneath him and was consumed by the lava; a fate soon shared by others. All that remained of the attacking army fled in a hectic mob-like manner.

“Maleah!” Séverin called out as he removed his dagger from an opponent’s spine. “We need to get up there!” He pointed to the lip of the basin, ducking as a boulder crashed nearby, showering them in dirt and ash.

Maleah nodded and lanced a foe in the throat. “What about the rest of them?”

“What about them?” he hissed in response.

Beneath the fleeing soldiers a large black pool formed beneath, like an oil slick. Its black was darker than the pitch it resembled and seemed banish all light that touched it. Slowly, stars twinkled and sparkled within it. Those who noticed the strange occurrence or became stuck within the muck, gave pause. Black, slimy hands, dripping sludge and emitting a noxious air reached up from the pool. The hands clawed at those trapped within, crawled up from the mire onto the soldiers and elves that stood above. Figures made of the dripping black sludge emerged from the abyss; their faces were hollow and wraithlike. Their corrosive touch burned the flesh and melted the armor of the poor sods they used to extract themselves from the queer pitch. The figures raised their hands, dripping sludge and vapor, fingers morphed into daggers; and stabbed them into the soldiers desperately trying to escape.

The knife like appendages pulsed and surged once injected into the hapless elves and Xanavien’s, like a mosquito draining blood. The victims shrunk and shriveled like grapes under a summer sun, the march of time took its toll on their bodies across a span of mere moments. Soon, all that was left were dried, fleshy husks to blown them away as dust by the wind. After several moments, the screaming ceased, leaving an eerie silence to fall over the battlefield. Combatants on both sides glanced about nervously in attempt to figure out what had just happened and how to avoid a similar fate. All the while, the hole slowly shrank and closed, the black specters retreating into their mire. Only the desiccated remains, fragments of bone and piles of dirt, were evidence of what was once thousands of elves and men.

“Holy Dusk…” Séverin stumbled back a step in awe.

“Was that Osric?” Maleah asked in disbelief.

“No, it couldn’t be…” Séverin responded, still unable to believe the lengths their brother would go to accomplish his goals.

* * *

The elves that remained stopped in their tracks, anticipating a new enemy, their own ranks long since divided when the battle turned into a free for all. The ground rumbled like a giant clearing its throat beneath them as embers continued to fall like snow. A piercing shriek broke the tense silence and reverberated throughout the basin. The ear-piercing scream went up again, closer this time, causing several to raise their hands to cover their ears reflexively. The elves scanned the ash cloud overhead as two more cries rang out, and the remaining Xanaviens continued their desperate retreat. From the cover of smoke above, a black wyvern dived upon a group of Colby-Nau, snatching them up in its talons and dropping them back to the ground once it regained altitude. The elves impacted the ground with a sickening splat and crunch of shattering bone. Scattered, the Colby-Nau attempted to counterattack but lacking any archers or distance weapons other than their flames, their efforts were mostly futile.

Massive wolf like creatures with the hindquarters of a lizard tore the fleeing Xanaviens apart, sending out a chorus of agonized screams to reverberate throughout the basin. More wyverns swooped down from the heavens, snatching up more men and elves with impunity. Reptilian creatures that walked upon two legs like men crawled out from the fissures and crevices, armed with crude stone or iron weapons and armor. They immediately set upon the confused and now completely outflanked elves like buzzards to carrion.

Aichlan pushed on towards the lip of the basin, nearly striking down two elves who charged down in full retreat. A woman screamed and he spun around to find its source. Near a small outcrop of boulders, several lizards in ruined armor and in the form of a man tore what little clothing a female elf wore as two others held her down. Sickened and enraged, Aichlan blindly ran over to her aid. A briliant flash and concussive blast sent him flying backwards, his face singed and ears ringing. He shakily sat up, all that remained were several embers, charred earth, the incinerated corpses of the lizards and their would be victim. The woman appeared to have self-destructed, taking her attackers with her.

Aichlan flinched as Eth brusquely lifted him to his feet and shoved him back into the fray. All around was pandemonium. Enemy and ally alike ran around in confusion as creatures of the dusk tore through like animals. Several wolf-like creatures fought over the corpse of a fallen elf, a screaming Xanavien was torn in two after a futile attempt to fight off another. An elf warrior dragged his severed torso across the ground, his entrails trailing behind him as lizards made a meal of his legs.

Eth suddenly shouted, a spell or a curse, Aichaln could not be certain, but his voice issued forth a shockwave of flames to incinerate an approaching Xanavien. Aichlan raised his own sword unsteadily as they trudged up the steep incline, unsure of what lay ahead. The sound of clashing steel and the creaking wood of trebuchets had been replaced by panicked shouts and screams of pain and terror. It was no longer a battle; they had somehow been transplanted to the realm of dusk.

“Pay the fuck attention!” Eth growled as he yanked Aichlan out of the way of a savage strike.

Aichlan yanked his arm free and sliced the wide-eyed Xanavien that attacked him across the throat. His opponent fell to his knees with his hands to his throat, attempting in vain to staunch the geyser of blood. Aichlan finished his foe off and allowed Eth to lead him up the basin once more. Xanavien and Colby-Nau alike fled down the hill in terror, and Aichlan wondered if they should join them. Beneath his feet, the once hard packed and dry soil was a quagmire of reddish mud from the blood that poured from above. Whatever the hell lay up ahead was not something Aichlan was eager to confront.

Eth abruptly slowed to a stop, holding out his arm to block Aichlan. All progress up the hill had been halted, and what few remaining warriors had made it up were now in full retreat. Hot on their heels was a battalion-sized group of gremlins riding massive boars with gnarly tusks. Aichlan almost laughed at the absurdity, but his eyes widened with fear as the creatures gored and trampled every last elf in mere moments. Eth and Aichlan turned on their heels as one and sprinted back down the basin to regroup with the rest of their rapidly dwindling forces.

A giant lightning bolt struck the ground in the middle of the battlefield, scorching the land more so than it already was. The bolt expanded until it consumed everything and everyone within a half-mile diameter. The night was enveloped in brilliant white. As abruptly as it appeared, it was gone, leaving the smell of ozone and burnt flesh in its wake. Everything seemed to stop, as if that moment were frozen in time. The creature behind them diligently held their position, as those creatures below not so quietly finished their meal of elf and man.

A wyvern covered in armor and spikes circled overhead before spotting its prey. It swooped down and raked the ground with its claws, dragging elves and men underfoot before it came to a stop and bit the heads off those still underfoot. It raised its head and roared at Aichlan and Eth who stood before it.

“Aaarrrghhh!” Eth screamed right back at the beast, slashing at the air wildly. “Ya bloody lizard!”

A man with long lavender colored hair in the black robes of Asketill’s academia appeared from thin air before them, trailing wisps of fragrant smelling black smoke. His golden eyes were at once disinterested and hungry, like a wolf before a lamb. He strolled past Aichlan and Eth admiring the carnage, seemingly oblivious to their presence. He stopped, as if sensing another, and turned to face them with a polite smile.

“Such a lovely evening, wouldn’t you say?”

Aichlan was speechless, was this man Osric? He certainly shared traits with his siblings, the pale skin and lavender colored hair being primary among them. There was something about his eyes and expressions however, something inhuman. It was to be expected, seeing as he was responsible for some of the most heinous atrocities, yet there was still something about them that made Aichlan uneasy. The man had an air of pure evil, as if Aichlan were looking upon the great demon of Dusk, Abigor himself.

“They say one never feels quite as alive as they do in the moments before death.” Osric mused.

Aichlan stood petrified, gripping his sword and buckler with white knuckles. Besides him, Eth was uncharacteristically silent. The aura or whatever it was wafting from the man before them was overbearing. For such a frail looking man, his presence exuded death.

Osric inhaled deeply, despite the sinister grin on his lips, his eyes were cold and empty. “We are truly fortunate to be alive.”

He fixed his cold gaze upon Aichlan and Eth, suddenly ceasing his feigned civility. “At least I am.”

Osric aimed his index and pinky finger at the pair, a warding symbol, or one used in casting hexes. “Though I can't say the same for you two.” He looked over Aichlan with interest and a hint of disgust.

Aichlan willed himself to act, to do anything, but found his limbs to be unresponsive. He had never been so afraid before in his life and could not be sure if it was some sort of spell he was under or simple cowardice.

“And what would a fellow human be doing with the likes of these barbarous elves? And a knight of The Order no less.” Osric tapped his chin thoughtfully. “How queer.”

Eth abruptly raised his sword and charged. “You son of a bitch!”

Osric waved his hand as if he were dismissing a servant, and effortlessly sent Eth careening into a pile of corpses and rubble some hundred yards away.

“Such a crude species. As for you,” Osric said, regarding Aichlan with increasing interest. “You should have died in Elysia.” He snorted condescendingly. “From the looks of it you’re barely alive as it is. The stink of the grave is heavy upon you, yet you persist. Queer indeed.”

“Who are you?” Aichlan managed to croak as he took up a defensive stance.

Osric chuckled and waved his hand, “shooing” Aichlan. “Go, crawl under a rock and die already. I can't stand the sight of you.”

“So, you’re the sorcerer terrorizing the land it seems.” Aichlan said with equal disdain as he inched forward.

“Sorcerer?” Osric laughed. “Child, you dare insult me? I am no conjurer of party tricks. I am now a god. I am your god.”

“A psychopath with delusions of divinity.” Aichlan got in a fighting stance, a smug grin upon his lips as his nerve returned. “We shall soon put your mortality to the test, but first, where is Renata?”

A hot wind kicked up a flurry of dust between them. The ground shook beneath as the mountain belched forth smoke and fire behind.

“You have the audacity to make demands of me?” Osric frowned, causing Aichlan to flinch unwittingly. “You, a worthless piece of animated flesh? You’re less significant than the maggots that will feast from your corpse.”

“You’re mad…” Aichlan muttered in surprise, the man’s erratic moods were disorientating.

Osric suddenly vanished, reappearing mere inches away from him. Aichlan leapt aside with a curse, nearly fumbling his weapon. His opponent laughed heartily and brushed a whisp of hair from his face.

“I am the implement of mankind’s destruction. I bring damnation and ruin to all.”

“Why?” Aichlan demanded as he slashed wildly at the tendrils of smoke where Osric once stood.

Osric reappeared behind Aichlan, raised his hands and turned his head to the heavens. “I shall raze the world and set salt to the soil so that the old gods can no longer steal the fruits of mankind’s endeavors or retard our expansion across the spheres.”

“Why?!” Aichlan spun and swung, whiffing the air once more. “Why are you doing this you fucking madman?!”

Osric reappeared and drew a glowing symbol of deepest violet. “All for the sake of love, for I am kind.”

Aichlan charged. “You may enjoy the sound of your own voice, but I abhor it.”

“Fool.” Osric muttered with a mordant smile.

Osric spoke his incantation in a single hurried breath and launched a barrage of ink black javelins made of malevolent energies. Aichlan skidded to a stop and raised his sword to block. The runes glowed on the blade as the javelins were diverted and repelled, but the barrage did not let up and eventually pierced through his weak defense of light and fey magic, the javelins tore through him. The impact sent him sliding on his back into a mound of raised soil.

“I gave you an option, whoever you are, or think you are.” Osric spoke without interest as he made his way to Aichlan, summoning another spell. “You could have left and lived to see the rebirth of humanities dominance upon this rock, or you could die pitifully. It defies logic and confuses me to no end as to why you would choose the latter.”

“Osric!”

The mad mage stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his casting as his brother approached. “Ah, Séverin. I must admit this is unexpected, though hardly a pleasure.”

“What the hell is wrong with you brother? Look at yourself!”

“Séverin, I am in no mood for chastisement,” Osric waved his hand in dismissal as he turned his back to Séverin, “I have a campaign to lead, so if you will excuse me.”

“Look at me Osric!” Séverin barked and flung a knife at his brother’s feet.

Osric stared at it with amusement before bending down to retrieve the weapon. “Now, I will be willing to let that transgression pass brother, but I’d advise against further testing my patience.”

“You’re not too grown for me to assert my authority as the eldest! Speaking nothing of the atrocities and crimes you’ve committed!”

“Then why bother?” Osric idly picked at his nails with the throwing knife.

“How could you do what you did to Maleah? She’s our sister Osric! Our flesh and blood! It’s our duty to protect her as brothers! We have nothing else if not for that!” Séverin’s face flushed as his eyes reddened, emotion getting the best of him. “I placed my trust in you Osric! How could you?”

“I had a goal to accomplish; I did what I did with her safety in mind. She wouldn’t leave with you, so I needed to give her an incentive. She returned to you unharmed, didn’t she?” Osric casually discarded the knife; it disintegrated, consumed by black flames before hitting the ground.

“The scars are deeper than that Osric! She looked up to you! More so than me! You were truly a sibling, whilst I took on the role of parent. You’ve betrayed her!”

“Her?” He scoffed indignantly. “All her life that girl has been babied, sheltered from the truth. It is her fault you were thrust into that role; it is—”

“Don’t you dare Osric.” Séverin warned in a growl, his trembling finger like a dagger trained to Osric’s throat. “Don’t you dare blame her for that!”

Clarissa ran over and took cover behind Séverin. “Is this him?” She whispered.

Séverin swore and pushed her away. “Go tend to Eth and Aichlan, Clarissa.”

“But Séverin,” she argued, her eyes wide with fear and worry.

“Clarissa, go.”

She looked pleadingly at him, but eventually consented, as his gaze remained firm.

“Please, wait for my return.”

Séverin gave no answer yea or nay as she ran off to aid Aichlan. The last shred of innocence she held in her eyes was now gone, stolen by the sights and sounds of war. He wished to have spared her such tragedy, but admittedly, it was far too late at this point, and there were greater issues to address. Such as his brother before him, who for all intents and purposes had been lost to madness.

“What was that about brother?” Osric asked as he craned his neck to watch her run past.

“Leave her be Osric, this is between the two of us.”

“Oh, is it now?” Osric said chuckling. “And pray tell what you mean by that Séverin?”

Osric put his fists up, bouncing in mock footwork. Séverin sneered at the childish antics of his brother. It appeared that he truly had gone mad.

“What? You want to fight me brother?” Osric taunted.

“If he won’t I will!” Maleah screamed as she galloped over.

Osric turned his head just as she stood and leapt from her saddle, her lance raised overhead, ready to be plunged into his heart.

“Maleah no!” Séverin yelled as he went after his sister, but it was too late.

Osric hastily drew a glowing glyph and launched a long black, ghoulish hand from a pentagram. It snatched Maleah out of the air and slammed her on the ground. The sound of forceful exhalation was heard distinctly above the din of battle and the audible crack of her bones. The sight of consciousness leaving her eyes struck deep into Séverin’s heart.

“Osric!” He screamed, the dammed tears now streaming freely from his eyes as he rushed his brother flinging knives as quick as he could draw them.

“Look what you’ve done!’ Osric screamed at Maleah as the ephemeral hand lifted her into the air and thrashed her about.

“Let her go!” Séverin roared as he slashed at his brother’s throat.

Osric leapt back and countered with a barrage of ice shards shot from his palm. Séverin dived forward into a somersault and handsprung into the air, flinging the last of his knives. He finished with an improvised spin kick to his brother’s head as he fell, knocking him down. Séverin scrambled to his feet and tackled Osric as he tried to rise again. He held his dagger to Osric’s throat as they panted and glared at one another.

“You can’t do it.” Osric taunted.

“Shut up!” Séverin snapped breathlessly, his hand trembling as he pressed the dagger to his brother’s throat. “Just shut the hell up! I can’t stand the sight of you right now!”

“What would mother think Séverin? Could you face her after this? What were her last words to you again?”

“Why?” Séverin tried to bolster his resolve but broke down and threw his dagger away as he stood. “Why Osric? We’re family! We are all that the other has left.”

“For the greater good as they say.” Osric calmly stood and dusted himself off. “You weren’t the only one who made a promise. I just have the means to keep mine.”

Séverin looked up in surprise, as Osric spoke in a familiar manner, the madness seeming to disappear.

“What?”

“But I must say you disappoint me Séverin.” Osric continued, his golden eyes reflecting the savage fury of the mountain and flames burning around them.

Séverin glared at his brother through tears. “I disappoint you?”

“I expected more from an assassin. You committed a fatal error in allowing emotion to dictate your actions.”

Séverin had no time to react as he took an onslaught of black blades of malicious energy. His screams were quickly silenced as he lost consciousness at the savage attack. The blades lifted his motionless form and juggled him several yards away before dissipating.

“Séverin!” Clarissa screamed as she rushed to his aid.

“You brought this upon yourself, brother.” Osric calmly stated his eyes dull and emotionless.