“Perhaps what is best known about the first Basilius Primus was that Axion Tassius is considered one of the first men to have united the fragmented human kingdoms that have remained splintered in the second era since almost a thousand years ago. He was also the mastermind of many military reforms that now serve as doctrine for our modern Traxian army to this day. Many suspected based on his looks and attitudes that he was also an Outlander, but to this day, without him ever confirming the truth, scholars have continued to debate whether or not he was a native Cyndralian.”

- Sir Vertucci Janus, Traxian Preservation Society, “The Rise of Trax: Defenders of Humanity" Chapter 2: From Hero to Emperor: Axion Tassius

The storm roared, buffeting the squad with angry winds. The sky came alive with violence as lighting smashed into the ground, the rain trying its best to drown the world in its wake. A darkness pressed itself against the very fibers of her being and she struggled to keep up with the two knights, clutching tightly to Annalise as the ranger guided their mount. In the center of the clouds an eerie purple ray shot up into the sky, tearing the clouds asunder and exposing glimpses of the pale moon above.

The dark grey fog itself became tinted by the ghoulish purple and even the underbrush seemed to writhe and twist as they rode past. She had barely calmed down enough to get the gist of the day’s events across to the two knights when a sense of dread washed over them as the purple shaft of light speared through the sky. Without hesitation the two packed up what they could and ordered Annalise and herself to follow along. To her dismay, the pack horse was less than pleased to see her as well, but given the situation, the two put aside their differences as Sophie fought to not hurl onto the horse or the ranger.

Their horses galloped as fast as they could, smashing through the remaining underbrush and what detritus that lingered on the forest floor as the mist filled in the space behind them. Hooves flung mud into the air as the subtle clanking of armour echoed in their wake. Sophie could feel almost a strange slip stream emerge as some small light glowed from an amulet around Sir Baylein’s neck. Definitely…urk…too fast.

A pulse of energy stole her breath away as all the horses reared their legs and fought desperately against the rising sense of despair.

“Hold on!” Annalise grunted and Sophie clutched desperately onto her waist as their pack mount tried rearing backwards only for their combined weight to stop it from throwing them off.

“Ngh.” Sophie threatened to hurl only for Annalise to pull her back.

“Stay with me.”

Sophie nodded and pushed forth whatever willpower she had left to hold back the physical feelings of discomfort, her stomach dangerously close to expelling the soup they had earlier. The sudden jolt of energy that blasted through the air once again certainly did not help and writhed in pain until Annalise brought the horse to a stop.

“Come on, we’re here.” The ranger said.

Waves of relief flooded over Sophie as she jumped off, only for everything to bubble up and she began dry heaving, forcing herself to hold it in.

They had finally arrived, looming up like a mountain in front of them was a rocky hill that led up to what looked like a deliberately flattered area, as if someone had dropped a giant boulder on the ground and left it at that Jagged rocks dotted the base of the hill making a vertical climb directly up all but impossible. Accessing such a site would therefore be incredibly difficult were it not for the two pathways that looped around the formation and up to the top. The path on the left was forested and dense with uncleared foliage, the right one showed signs of being cleared, a forceful cutting of any vegetation in the way as odd bits of trees or bushes still dotted around the sides of the path.

When Sophie and Annalise recounted their tale to the others, she had watched as Sir Baylein’s expression changed from one of understanding to an expression of grim seriousness. Based on their information, he deduced that the dead were heading for an old burial ground on the Carradorian border, long forgotten but not long enough apparently. At speed they had raced to interrupt the ritual and rode in the heavy rain for what felt like hours, only briefly dispatching the odd skeleton or two left behind during the undead’s own furious march. And now, their destination was in sight.

Soft clanks of armoured and tailored boots squished over the mud and drew closer only to pause, Sophie feeling the concerned gazes that lingered on her as she stared at the ground.

“She uhh…” Taurox began.

“Can’t ride for shit, motion sickness.” Annalise quickly answered and the two knights grunted.

“Regardless, we stick to the plan.” The minotaur spoke again.

“Nyeh.” Sophie grunted her agreement.

“The ritual sight is just over the lip of that hill, once we crest it I don’t know what we’ll find, and if the dead did truly have liches and sorcerers amongst them then we must be even more careful.” Sir Baylein’s more calming voice chimed in as the others grunted. Sophie finally recovered enough to look up and was embarrassed when she caught their almost amused gazes.

Sir Baylein pulled down his barbute helm’s face plate and suddenly the mood grew more serious. Sophie managed to hold the sickening feeling down for now and gave the others a curt, if pained nod. Sir Baylein drew a series of squiggles on the ground with his sword, trying to beat the rain as he began.

“Now that we see it properly, I suspect that they might be trying to either utilize some leftover magic or summon something from its rest. This barrow existed well before Carrador, at least since the era of the first Basilius Primus if my history lessons were correct. ” He began, “Whatever they're doing can’t be good and the only thing I imagine we have at this point is the element of surprise, so there’s no second chances.”

“I concur with Sir Baylein’s assessment,” the minotaur chimed in, “We have to hit them hard and fast.”

“Indeed, Apprentice Maid Sophie!” Baylein called and Sophie quickly looked up after suppressing the latest desire to hurl. “Are you ready to go?”

“Nuhhh…yeah…I’ll be ready.” She forced herself to stand up straighter.

“Remember, I don’t expect you to fight much, if you get bogged down, call out or you’ll die. You need to focus on the people who got kidnapped, we’ll hold the bulk of them bad.” Baylein finished and gave the minotaur a knowing nod. “Ranger Annalise?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll stay with the horses.” Anna glumly replied.

“Blademaster Taurox, we’ll wait for your signal.”

“Oh you’ll know when old man.” The minotaur grinned and trudged over to the left side of the path, disappearing from view in the foilage.

Silently, Sophie followed Sir Baylein as they inched their way forwards up the main road, leaving Annalise behind with the three horses. Motion sickness and fear alike fought for dominance within her as they drew closer to the ritual site, the sense of dread now radiating like a sickly aura from the top of the hill. Purple tinted everything, the light, the fog, the water, and even her sight, only a few good tugs from the knight kept her moving.

The muddy path they tread upon was already filling up with water and other detritus, but the soil still showed signs of disturbance, signs of the dead walking up the exact same route. Thunder cracks and flashes of lightning temporarily brought the unnaturalness to a halt with every flash, but with every step closer, those too soon grew purple as well. It was like the storm yearned to fill the gap in the clouds, to cover up where the purple beam shot into the sky and angrily assault the space around it with a fury.

Small groans and unnatural noises gradually filled the air as they reached the hilltop and Baylein held up a gauntleted finger, gesturing for complete silence. Sophie nodded nervously and as the two finally crested, they quickly ducked behind a small mound of soil, mud and brush as they peaked over the lip.

A horrifying chill ran down Sophie’s spine as she took down the sight, little barrows shaped like small hills lay in varying states of disrepair across the flat surface of the hill. Bodies too, lay in different stages of decomposition, some fresh like the few armoured corpses that she suspected were part of the expedition, and others much older, such as ones similar to what the villagers of Rumhol were wearing. Between the barrows and bodies stood dozens of undead abominations, skinwalkers still dripping with viscera, several of the larger skinwalkers with faces and skin forcefully stitched on, and the largest of the undead, the charred on standing in the middle as if they were waiting for something.

Next to it, an ominous purple beam shot towards the sky, as if emerging from some deep hole in the center of the barrows, reaching for what it could not have. Old chunks of stone pathways still connected the barrows, though they had long since disintegrated from erosion. One barrow stood on top of the others and the dead seemed to mostly be congregated around it, with a few skinwalkers milling about absently.

“Blademaster, hurry the hells up.” Sir Baylein mumbled and she couldn’t help but agree.

Several robed figures appeared on top of the barrow, their faces veiled with cowls and hoods. Together they lifted their staves and hands as the undead all seemed to turn towards them in unison, sending another shiver down her spine.

“My brethren!” A purple robed figure bellowed raspily to the crowd, “Our masters call for us to return them! The darkness that ails this land has festered for too long!”

Sophie could see Baylein’s hands tighten around his sword. The blade and hilt deceptively plain almost like a generic steel sword that most town guards carried save for a small gem embedded into the hilt replacing the pommel. His free hand sketched out strange movements in the air as he mumbled what Sophie could only interpret as gibberish before the pommel glowed briefly, as did the pendant around his neck.

“Wards and magic,” he whispered, only to admonish her as she sought to speak, “later, stay focused.”

Turning back over to the dead, the robed figures chanted ominously together as a giant almost translucent blood red and dirty purple sigil flared up into the air in front of them. Like a sort of mechanism to control the purple beam of power that flowed from the earth. The ground quaked beneath their feet as the beam seemed to open up, a maw emerging within it as if a hungry demon sought forth new morsels to fill its appetite.

Collectively as one, the skinwalkers roared to heavens as the subtle clanking of chains echoed once again, and a familiar sense of uneasiness filled Sophie once more. Just like before, out of the corner of their eyes, the two spotted a gaggle of prisoners, soldiers, civilians and expeditionaries alike, whimpering and pleading as the larger skinwalkers pushed their frail and weakened forms ahead. Their weakened forms suggested that Riza was likely not one of their first prisoners, and upon meeting Baylein’s gaze, she could see the disgust from behind his visor.

“May they be reborn anew! So that our salvation shall return! So that they may tear this false age asunder once more!” The leading figure cried out, his raspy voice drowning out the crowd.

To her horror, the undead did not ritualistically sacrifice their captives as they did previously, they simply pushed them into the purple light in a gaggle, sending them down what appeared like a well from which the energy emerged from. Despite the protests and pleas, the undead used their polearms to prod the few who remained above ground into the pit, never to be seen again. And just like that, dozens of lives were quickly ended and Sophie could only pray they had made it in time.

“Blessed be their soul!”

“Blessed be.”

The leading figure chanted and the others echoed. The skinwalkers too seemed to roar some form of approval from their desecrated forms and another series of prisoners were pulled out from just out of sight. Unless…

“A barrow,” Sophie hissed to the knight, “They’re keeping the prisoners in a barrow.”

Gesturing towards the direction they dragged the newcomers from, the knight followed her gaze and hung his head thoughtfully.

“This is good, more bodies if we can free them. We need to find it first, come on.” He ordered and shuffled off to the right. Sophie scrambled to follow and as the pleas and cries fell on deaf ears once more, another roar filled the night as the dead celebrated.

Slinking through the shrubbery the two made their way closer to the suspected barrow when a loud crash silenced the chanting.

“You are all accused of heresy! For crimes against nature and the light! Your sentence is death!” A guttural roar echoed from the opposite side and at once steel and armour came to life as the undead readied for war.

“Shit, I guess he wouldn’t have known.” Sir Baylein raised his sword high, “Search the barrows, I’ll keep them off your back.” His look left no room for disobedience and Sophie clutched her sabre and began running towards the barrows, surprising a few skinwalkers that still stood around in confusion.

“For Carrador! For the free peoples! Death to the undying!” Sir Baylein yelled.

It was like a ghost had shot past her, a stream of pure wind drifted past her with a small yellowish tint as the armoured knight flew around in an unnatural whirlwind of violence. Magic…she watched in amazement as the dead nearby were cleaved or sliced into ribbons, their black blood barely hitting the floor before the next one perished.

“Hurry you dolt!” Came the order and Sophie quickly scrambled forward once more.

The barrows were ancient hilly mounds, a few decrepit stones decorating the entrances and serving as the main doorway into the earthy tombs. Yet they did have a key problem, without any real knowledge of different crests, symbols, and really anything about whatever ancient group had carved these, they all seemed to look the same to her. Earthy mounds with rocks.

“Interlopers! Have the Balraugr deal with them! Finish the ritual!” The lead purple robe spoke and as one the chanting grew louder.

One of the robed figures jumped down from his perch and chanted to the charred one, provoking it into an earth shattering roar as it lunged towards Sir Baylein and Sophie. With a battlecry of his own, another blast of yellow aura shimmered around the knight and he prepared to meet his foe in combat, giving Sophie one last look of encouragement.

“I swear upon my name as the Falcon Knight of Carrador, rider of the four winds, we will save your friend. Now go!” Sir Baylein cried out as he surged forward like an arrow.

A titanic clash of steel and flesh as his rapid blows tore through the creatures in his path, just as the charred one simply threw them out of its way. Meeting near the beam of energy, the two champions locked eyes and in seconds, began their deadly duel.

Growls quickly sent Sophie jumping towards the barrows as more skinwalkers and undead limped, scraped and ran at her, their hungry inhuman eyes trained on their prey. She ducked as a stray skinwalker swiped at her with its eerily fleshy claws and she returned a swipe from her sabre in kind, decapitating the creature. Pivoting to the left to avoid another two of the dead that popped out from behind a mound of dirt, she quickly ran to the closet barrow and tried desperately to pry open the door.

“C’mon…pull, pull you stupid. Pull…nugh…heh…hah!” She yanked with all her might and only tumbled to the ground. Shit, shit, shit!

One of the dead had crawled on top of the barrow and stared down at her in equal parts desire and surprise, letting loose a roar as it pounced down. Instinctively she lifted the sabre and the curved edge bellied by momentum cut the creature’s head in two, sending a gushing torrent of blood, flesh and rot spilling onto her. Disgusted she coughed and hacked out the bits that snuck into her mouth and as the bile like bitterness lingered she found herself a little more surrounded than she would’ve liked.

Three skinwalkers advanced closer and seeing her moment of hesitation, two of them leapt forward only for giant hooves to land on top of them, crushing them as an axe swung split the last creature in two. The satisfying thud of the minotaur landing shocked even her, but in the moment she felt more relieved than anything as the other undead took an extra moment to size up their new opponent, holding back just a little.

“Guess you two found something?” Taurox bristled with his battleaxe in hand.

“Prisoners…barrows.” Sophie managed to blurt out as her mind processed the events.

Without nary more than a grunt the minotaur swung his meaty arms around and ripped the stone slab serving as a doorway away. An empty stone room welcomed them and the minotaur growled in frustration. Sophie cursed at their luck when the minotaur gestured at another barrow and she rapidly nodded. Check them all if we can.

He broke off into a wild frenzy, a dance like trance as he swung his battleaxe back and forth, destroying or outright shattering some of the dead that dared to oppose his advance. Sophie ran after him, swinging her own blade wildly around him, trying to copy his stance but failing to strike down any of the dead except for holding them back.

“Watch my back!” The minotaur barked and Sophie spun around and prodded at the oncoming dead.

Her eyes settled onto a twin eyed two headed skinwalker as it circled them menacingly. She steeled her nerves and raised her sabre, ready to strike. A loud crack made her turn around and in her moment of distraction, the two headed creature oozed forward. In a panic she slashed in its general direction only for it to deftly dodge and land its own fleshy strike against her.

Throwing her left arm up in a desperate defense, she recoiled in agony as its rotted claws tore the flesh from her left arm leaving a nasty gash behind as blood gushed from the wound. Pressing the advantage it clawed at her again and she used her sabre to launch a counter attack. With a swift strike her sabre embedded itself into the fleshy second head, causing the creature to screech in pain and yank the sabre away with its head as it retreated.

“Ugh…” Sophie groaned from the pain and looked up to see another two deformed skinwalkers taking its place.

Tensing her muscles, she pivoted quickly on the spot and avoided one creature’s attack as the other launched itself at her. Ducking to avoid it, she could feel the fleshy wet liquids splatter over her as it barely missed her, the creepy, bulbous growths on its stomach making her nauseous at the sight.

As the two creatures regained their footing the loud cracking noise gave way to a splat as Taurox smashed the slab of stone into one of the creatures, sending the other one rearing back to avoid a strike. With a roar the minotaur grabbed his battleaxe and jumped into the fray, running in front of Sophie as he bashed in a few more skulls. A small flurry of activity made her look back and a flood of relief washed over her.

A gaggle of prisoners dressed like villagers and patrolmen emerged from the barrow, some more emaciated than the others as they collectively let out a small cheer and jumped to join the minotaur. A few sought to escape and quickly dashed away in a feeble attempt to outrun the undead and Sophie pushed herself back up and tried to make her way through the crowd as she ignored the glares shot her way. Hah, saving these idiots and they still look at me weird for being a halfie.

To her dismay she found no sign of Riza and was about to ask the prisoners when the minotaur roared once more.

“Small Elf! Over there!” He yelled and she bristled at the moniker but followed his gesture. Her eyes widened as they spotted a listless set of prisoners led out of the barrow under the robed figures, a set of prisoners that included some well armoured soldiers and a battered auburn cat.

A series of low roars cried out and she watched as a set of larger skinwalkers headed towards their current positions, their eyes trained on the minotaur and prisoners as they pushed past their own kin.

“The rest of you, grab a weapon! Now is your chance for vengeance! For Astralis and the Stars!” Taurox bellowed and led the motley group of freed prisoners to meet the charge with one of their own.

“For the light!”

“For Astralis!”

Echoed the battle cries as the freed grabbed weapons from the fallen skinwalkers, joining the blademaster as he rushed to halt the advance of the larger skinwalkers.

Sophie looked around and found one of the two heads lying decapitated on the muddy ground and reached over to pull out the sabre. Convenient. As she yanked it back out the moment of calm also brought the horrid realization that Riza’s group was led out so they could be the next sacrifice.

Gritting her teeth, Sophie pulled herself together and rushed towards Riza, her determination drawing the attention of two freedmen as they silently joined her charge. But as another wave of miasmic purple pulsed forth from the beam of energy, a knot tied itself tighter within her stomach. Time was running out.