A massive cage of hardened lights closed in on the wraith, causing it to shriek in rage and lash out in all directions with its skeletal arms. Its lanky fingers belied enormous strengths that tore off the light spears, unscathed and fearless. The cage trapped him with no other effect, not even the mildest signs of damage.

It has indeed evolved, Mirayoung thought, remembering how the light rays could still scratch and graze the wraith when it had a shadow. Now it was in a transition stage, close to but not yet a Mind Wraith. If she were to describe it, it would be like the metamorphosis of a butterfly, where it had become a pupa. Its decaying, sagging flesh would start to become more well formed and a curved long spike would grow from the hooded head, pairing with the glowy eyes to form a truly sinister look. By that stage, it would be a complete Mind Wraith.

"Be off! All of you! Bring Holz or Fermand, but no one else," Mirayoung yelled at the mage-blacksmiths, who were already scrambling before she completed her sentence. She renewed the cage spell, adding multiple layers that intertwined with each other but the wraith brushed them away. With each passing second, it became more agitated.

"Keep it caged. I will strike with Empyrean," Jerius arched and pressed his fingers together, creating an intricate sign. Then he pinched his lips, seemingly in preparation for something as he mouthed old words that only those of the Lyvia's bloodline could muster. He was not of that bloodline, but within him, Lyvia's arcane flowed.

He then had both palms up.

Even from within the cage, the wraith noticed the potential risk to it, even if he did not understand what it was. Its instinct to survive flared. Its command of nature, of magic that coursed through the living beings who sought to undo it increased with every passing moment. Around the two, a sudden swirl of wind picked up, howling like the hordes of blood-mad barbarians and echoing the anger of a greedy storm god.

It can cast spells now, thought Mirayoung, splitting her attention on two different spells. Parallel casting was a technique reserved to the most skilled mages out there. With half a mind, she attempted to negate the spell around them and the other, she kept the barrage of light spears on the wraith, trapping it within.

But even as she countered the swirling force, the wraith mustered more. It did not need to be better than an archmagus in commanding magic; it needed only to surprise her, while her concentration was split. The spiraling wind rapidly grew more agitated, mirroring the wraith's frustration and rage as if nature given life. It came to the point it swept both of them off their feet as the Empyrean flame Jerius conjured shot out from both palms; the white-hot flame of the heaven that claimed to burn even souls into cinder struck the ceiling, scattering over in distributed damage. The dangling orbs of light either exploded or fell, shattering around the wraith but otherwise leaving it unhurt.

Recovering back on her feet, Mirayoung paused for a second as cold dripped down the length of her spine. An ancient voice spoke from somewhere near...too near for comfort. Every consonant was twisted, like an alien mouth taunting the language with which it spoke.

"Is that the wraith? It felt like my heart was being ripped apart when the voice was there," Jerius said, with a palm on his chest.

"Ignore it," Mirayoung said, backpedalling while signalling Jerius to do the same to increase the distance between them and the wraith.

Breathing hard, he said, "I can't muster Empyrean. That voice...in my head is interfering with my spellcasting. I'm finding it hard to complete an incantation."

"A Mind Wraith can do that to you just by its presence, which lets you hallucinate voices that are not there. If I'm to describe it, it's like an area of suppression. Now I want you to pay close attention to what I have to say," Mirayoung said, unfurling the belt of nine daggers. "Do not let it touch you. Do not let its attacks hit you. Do not attempt to block. Move out of its way. You hear me?"

"Well, you said that countless times," Jerius said. "Is there anything new? M-mirayoung, it's breaking out! Can you throw me a dagger at least?"

She did not reply to him, eyeing the wraith that was rampaging within and cracking open the last rays of the cage. It shrieked a mix of elation and fury in a cacophony of jarring sounds that were the closest to victorious cries of a warrior. Closing her eyes, Mirayoung's lips moved in a silent song as she brushed her palm over the nine daggers.

The daggers started to vibrate, first lightly then with sharp violent convulsions that mirrored the wraith's rampage. The wraith was out‒its facial beak looked longer and more malicious now‒and again, it charged, closing the distance in half a second when the daggers responded in kind like honing arrows. The wraith flung backward in a thunderous recoil when the bloodied weapons struck their mortal enemy, no more than ten inches from where Mirayoung stood. She could still smell the rot, albeit fading, as it gained more semblance of life in its evolution.

"String your incantations into a song," Mirayoung said, using her fingers to control the daggers. "It takes longer but it helps you to steady the incantation, despite the wraith's suppression."

I'm tone deaf!" Jerius said, closing his eyes. A moment later, he collapsed, reeling back from the effort with hacking coughs. Hastily rushed incantations or failed spell attempts could backfire as the arcane summoned for the spell could not be discharged external to the caster, which in turn, was forcibly re-absorbed back into the core.

"Careful. Don't rush it. And get out of here if you can't manage. I can face it alone," Mirayoung said before returning her concentration to controlling the daggers, which were effectively disrupting the wraith but any attempts to pin it to the ground were foiled by its exceedingly fast movement. The daggers of alien origin, tempered with Samadhi Fire to give its anti-spirit properties, held their ground.

They struck from all sides, buffeting it even as it hit them away. In the least, they were holding the wraith back and shielding them from immediate harm. Her original plan of using the Daggers of Asnar was to split one for each of the combatants, using which to circle around themselves to protect against the wraith's lightning strikes. But that was futile now, for they were only two of them now and a single dagger would do naught against a Mind Wraith.

The now eerie quietness of the hall, punctuated only by the wraith's shrieks, and clashes and clangs of enchanted meteorite with supernatural flesh and bones, started to get drowned out by the hard, imperial voices in their heads. Even Mirayoung was getting more bothered by the auditory hallucination from the wraith's presence, a testament that it had gained more and more foothold within their minds. She was starting to think the wraith would not need to physically attack to steal their life force.

Don't be a burden. You've put that behind you. Jerius stood up on shaky legs. The voices in his head were loud, disgusting and demonic. They seemed to originate from within, pulling out the fears, insecurities and vulnerabilities he hid deep within his soul to hurt him.

A child, a weak child who plays a mage's game.

A thorn...a burden, no less.

Give it up, you worthless child...

Like those days begging on the street.

Stealing buns and copper coins from the street carts.

You are but a plague, a curse...

A woe, a painful travail to those who have to aid you.

A shame.

Shame...

Useless...

"Don't let it consume you. It recognises you're a threat. The hallucinations will only get worse." Jerius heard Mirayoung's voice but that faded away into sudden silence, so quiet he thought he could hear a pin drop in the far yonder.

It was all whiteness around him, like...

Wait...

He was floating in the air without a body, just a speck of dust in a foreign world. As he spun, he saw clouds that split the sky with their polychromatic body. Below, glowing vortexes of light spun while flocks of winged creatures swooped about. His ears rang with the wave of agony, worse than what he ever felt imprisoned beneath Nox while the battle for survival quaked above him.

Then as quickly as it came, the view before him morphed away.

Now he stood as a single man before a gigantic door the size of a mountain that hid a figure of horror, something so terrifying that mortals who gaze upon it would be driven mad. He knew he could not trust anything his senses record, but that primal fear in him grew like a rhythmic sound.

He breathed hard but could not feel his body except the one that stood before the gigantic door. He knew he was still in the Dome, and the Empyrean, guided by his will, still poured like torrential water across the hall to sweep the angel out of its hiding place.

The door began to creak, horrifyingly realistic. What was behind came with rage, immeasurable rage that thundered out as it slowly emerged into the vista.

Now he was zigzapping along valleys, while the sun rose in the horizon. But before he knew it, he was a single man again facing the gigantic door.

The door was slightly ajar now as the entity behind laboured harder. But as the door opened, Jerius heard a beautiful woman's laugh, mixed with tinkling bells. A pungent aroma, yet almost erotic, assailed his nose or the nose of the lone figure that he was projected into.

He reached deep into his arcane pool to summon the necessary energy to fuel a spell, to morph it into Empyrean flame. In the strange place, the single man‒who was him yet he felt like his soul was floating about, observing that man at the same time‒stirred. Just in time, the door creaked till it was half-opened, enough for a gush of dark smoke to stream out at him. It was not the wraith, but Jerius thought it was part of its essence given form. Jerius focused his mind inward, creating a ray of light and the single man started to hold a long blade of whiteness.

The man swung but missed.

The dark smoke giggled with the jarring dissonance of a monster and the honeyed voice of a courtesan.

Nothing made sense.

Like a living mountain of filth and corruption, the smoke formed around him with demented passion to consume. Jerius started to lose touch, unable to maintain the blade.

He heard the voice.

Feast. Feast. Feast.

Eyes formed on the smoke, blazing like meteors. As their eyes met, pain shot through the single man's - his - body...his mind.

Feast. Feast. Feast.

Jerius collapsed as he felt his soul being invaded. He wriggled as though claws had latched onto the imprint of his soul, removing him from him.

Feast. Feast. Feast.

As he struggled in growing agony, he felt like a scroll being rewritten with indecipherable messages in cramped handwriting. He fought against it, but he felt more and more disconnected from his arcane source, from the nascent Empyrean he attempted to morph, and from his soul. He felt his consciousness dimming as though it was a candle wick being extinguished by thick fingers.

Feast. Feast. Feast.

He stirred, feeling heat as flame slowly danced around then seared him as the dying wisps of Empyrean within his psyche turned against him. He thought his flesh was smoking, and if there were a mirror, he would see the smouldering, decaying form that was him. No.

He started to feel the burn.

Pain that he always dealt to his worst enemies, now reflected upon him.

Focus, Jerius, focus.

Feast. Feast. Fea-

Mirayoung knew it was trouble when she saw Jerius on his knees, his neck slumped, while his long hair covered over his face. The voices in her head were deafening now, and only with the composure shaped by centuries of her life did she manage to steel herself from them. For someone as inexperienced as Jerius, even with Lyvia's magic and training, it would be a certain defeat.

She needed to help him, and one way would be to enter his mind and retrieve him but that would be exceedingly dangerous without another archmagus to hold the fort in the hall. Neither Holz nor Fermand was in sight. Nor were their arcane scents anywhere near her. This made her curse the mage-blacksmiths under her breath, an act she rarely did.

With each second, the evolution became more complete and it more dangerous. The daggers, after being struck by the wraith, took longer and longer to counterattack. Each strike against the wraith was less damaging to it, posing no more than an annoyance. Even her attempts to arrow the wraith in what she studied as the vulnerable parts such as the neck and heart proved futile. The wraith was too fast, and its instinct too sharp, allowing it to avoid any direct hit on its weak parts.

An idea grew in her head. It was a dangerous idea that she would hate. Yet it was a necessary one if she were to hope to contain the wraith for good.

Hurriedly, she looked at the incomplete formation over the eastern part of the hall, and the half-formed 'heart' of the sealing array. If she could use what was there and make herself the heart of the array to fuel the sealing formation, she could not just trap the wraith within the hall but also seal off its presence from Jerius and anyone else within the Guild. But that meant she must emerge victorious or die trying, which would free the wraith to wreak havoc on the rest of the Guild.

The thought was unfathomable.

The thought was dangerous.

Again, the thought was necessary.

Mirayoung dashed to where Caqur once sat, leaning down and putting her fingers on the sigils on the exposed ground.

She thought she sensed that the wraith recognised what she was planning to do, and...welcomed it.