“O:

In the shadow, there is salvation,

In the suffering, there is redemption,

Families torn asunder, brother against brother.

Beware, the empty host awakened by the slumbering king.”

L: And that’s part of the prophesy?

O: That is what The Circles foretold.

L: And that’d be accurate?

O: Is Melton not at war with itself? Have the dead not risen?

L: Then the king…

O: The Demon King will rise this tide.

L: But the seal…that must be what the cult rituals are for!

O: Then we best act quick, for the darkness waits for no one.”

- Historian Orgrid Cairnmaker and Inquisitor Lionel Blackburn at Caer Scighir

Annalise shoved the debris out of the way and almost fell, her crutch getting caught in the ferry winch’s gaps, ironically saving her even as it nearly dislocated her shoulder. With a grunt she heaved herself back up, gently shuttling the crutch back out to steady herself. Free at last, she leaned against the crutch and pushed on the winch.

A sickening metallic screech tore into her eardrums and Annalise winced from the noise. Determined, she threw herself onto the winch again, turning it just a little more. A small click interrupted the screeches, the chains attached to it finally turning to summon the ferry platform from the other side of the river, hopefully.

They entered during daylight hours, Mila remained mostly catatonic as Annalise led their horses through the ruined township. Something to do with her past, Anna guessed based on the few words she caught when Mila talked with Sophie, poor kid, an inquisitor’s apprentice so young, though I suppose the indoctrination starts early. From there, the day had taken a turn for the worse. Trudging through ash and bone, the duo eventually wound up near the town’s docks on the river bank. Annalise felt a small moment of elation before noticing a peculiar fog nestling itself around them, surrounding the township and obscuring the opposite bank. It brought an uneasy tingle down her spine, it was familiar, too familiar, foul like the Mistveil. Which means magic, she grumbled.

Failing to stir her companion into action, she opted to try and use the winch herself. But with every push she forced the winch to turn, the chains jangled a little more, which was a good thing. The eerie groans and bone cracking noises emitted from within the fog was, on the other hand, a decidedly bad thing.

“C’mon, faster, faster! Ughhh. Fuck!” She yelped as her crutch slid slightly, almost launching her off the small pier. “Suree Anna, everything’s fine, even your one stupid leg wants to get you killed, focus dammit.” Grunting down her frustration, she steadied herself before pushing again and again. Each metallic screech released more guttural groans and moans from within the fog in responded.

“So the dead come again, how fucking nice. Was everyone in Eichafen not enough huh?! Had to come nibble on my ass too now?” She muttered under her breath, “But of course, some shitty magic comes to ruin my day again. Took my comrades, my friends, my leg, fuck I never even got to tell Gil how cute he looks when he styles his hair. I hope they’re in a better place, Sara, Thulgrim, Gil. They all deserved better.”

Figures moved inside the mist and Annalise stared at the still mounted apprentice, hoping for a response. To her surprise there was, but barely. Great, leave the cripple to call a boat, shoot the zombies and protect you?! Goddess help me.

“Come on! Turn faster! You piece of rusty trash!” She cried as she threw her weight against it once more, “Inquisitor, oi, Mila, apprentice, your royalty, ladyship, whatever you want to be called at this point. Help? Please?” She grunted in frustration.

The figures drew closer to the noise and to her horror Annalise found herself looking at the recent dead once more. Molted sacks of melted skin, singed by flame to unnatural blackness atop bones brittle and burnt, nothing more than eyeless puppets.

I got what? A minute before they are upon us? By Tesadus. Annalise looked desperately at her bow still strapped to the horse, the poor animal braying in fright. Me too. A sudden neigh alerted her to danger, spinning around, she glimpsed Mila’s horse edge backwards, the dead getting too close for comfort.

“Saint damned hells!” Annalise swore. She ripped her crutch from out of the winch and hobbled to her own mount, quickly unclasping the bow and quiver. Using the crutch to steady herself, she notched an arrow and aimed at the closest of the town’s residents.

Please not like before, please, she pleaded and fired. Angled just a little higher than she needed to, it flew fast, smashing into the undead’s skull, the force tearing it clean off the thing’s shoulders. Boom, so they die at least, Annalise grinned, but her smirk faded as she sighted another approaching. Notching a second arrow, she held her breath, aiming the shot before firing.

A satisfying thunk, or at least that’s what she imagined it sounded like as the arrow pierced into the undead’s head, flecks of burnt skin flung everywhere. Gross. Sparing no time, she moved to notch another arrow when the unthinkable happened. Her crutch pressed into the slightly damp pier, the moisture just enough to break the crutch’s grip on the wood. Annalise’s eyes widened as her world turned sideways, a shocked gasp escaping her mouth before the pain. She smashed into the pier, her arms aching from the impact as she let go of the bow, the weapon clattering to the ground in front of her.

Pain, hurt, disbelief rushed to the forefront before anger took control. Anger at the situation she was in, anger at the useless inquisitor, most of all anger at the arrows that lay scattered across the ground. No!

“Argh!” She screamed in fury, clawing back up to her knees as she picked up her bow and a handful of arrows. Stupid crutch, stupid leg, stupid zombies, stupid town. Cursing the crutch, she tried to stand up and almost fell when a pair of hands steadied her.

Sorrowful despondent eyes met hers, guilt filling in the void between the two as the Inquisitor gave her a tiny nod. “Sorry Ranger.” Mila mouthed quietly.

Annalise blinked back her surprise, giving a dissatisfied hmpf as the other girl released her grasp. “About damn time.” She muttered.

For a moment she watched in fascination as Mila moved her arms around, a low murmuring hum coming from her as the tips of her fingers began to glow. The air around them seemed to drop as it was sucked away, the very hairs on her body beginning to stand on end. A fighter can cut through hordes with their blade, magic can be all powerful, and I shoot one arrow at a time, how is that even fair. A brilliant golden halo began illuminating the duo.

“Ljox Orvina Vordia!” Mila chanted, the halo coalescing into what appeared to be a barrier, pushing away both fog and the undead.

Annalise sucked in a breath of awe, her eyes dashing between the dazzling display of lights and barrier of ash thrown up in its wake.

“Anytime now.” Mila barked, the scowl evident within her voice.

Annalise looked shocked for a moment before she rolled her eyes, throwing herself back to turning the winch. “Oh you just show up when you want and order me around huh? Couldn’t have done this before I nearly broke my arm? Leaving a cripple to do your-”

“I’m sorry, okay? Save this for later?” Mila grumbled through the exertion, “I can’t keep this up forever.”

“Next time let your trauma hit you after the life threatening danger.” Annalise shot back.

For a moment the two growled at each other, fury bubbling to the surface until a click drew Annalise’s attention back to the winch, the thing now spinning freely and shooting her crutch out. Tumbling back to the ground again, she crawled forward to pick up the crutch again before staring at the winch. Uh oh, it’s moving on its own, someone’s on the other side. Wordlessly she crawled back for her bow and what arrows she could recover.

Her hand instinctively notched another arrow when she paused. Undead lingered outside the halo, but there was no assault on the barrier, no pounding against it. Just an eerie calm as they stared back with their hollow eye sockets.

Energy continued humming from the apprentice’s spell as Annalise scanned the horizon. There, in the distance she spotted a dark murky figure hidden by the fog maintaining their distance, not shambling forward like the other of the dead. A necromancer? Counter spell maybe? No matter. Angling her bow ever slightly upwards she aimed up towards the figure in the fog, drawing her bowstring as she held her breath. Tesadus, grant me your blessings and guide my shot.

Twang

Out flew an arrow, the thin metal tipped stick of wood raced out of the shimmering halo, the divine glow reflecting off the arrow head for a precious second before it vanished into the fog. Annalise paused, waiting with bated breath when she noticed the dark figure stagger, its form dropping slightly as if reeling from something. There we go.

A viscous roar broke through the heavens and Annalise heard the crunching of bones as something large made their way forward. Dammit! From beyond where the figure was a darker shadow loomed over head, the darkness growing larger the closer it got, not another of the abominations, she thought as her heart dropped. Just like the ruins.

But before she could warn Mila, before she could react, a distinctive rushing sound of water roared from behind her. In the moment it took for her to turn her head and get a glimpse of the figure on the raft, a monstrous wave crashed just beyond them. The waters battering aside the dead and the damned like wheat, submerging the path from the village to the pier.

“Hurry now, children of the earth. The anger of the waters subside and the shadows will come again. Hurry!” A heavily bearded figure wearing some strange shamanic headdress called out from atop a rectangular platform. Ahh, the ferry.

“Heretic.” Mila hissed from behind Annalise, the crackling of the divine barrier fading away.

“To have escaped death is to have escaped the grasp of the shadows, come now quickly!” The figure gestured.

“Huh? Heretic?” Annalise turned to her ally.

“Druids, same magic users that used psychic magic on Sophie.” Mila scowled.

Great, more magicians and their stupidly useful sorceries, Annalise huffed and turned back to the druid, doubt now clouding her mind but she quickly dismissed it and gripped Mila’s hand. “Druid or not, we need to get out of here.”

“So they can prod our minds for secrets? Protocol dictates when dealing with heretic psychics-”

“Damn that official nonsense right now, I need you to explain what was wrong with you, and maybe, keep us moving towards the capital without dying. Which means getting on the strange man’s ferry.”

“Tch.” Mila growled.

“Come on.” Annalise prodded, and Mila finally moved to lead the horses along, much to the amusement of the bearded man.

“Hurry! I came as fast as the land allowed, it heard the cries of the dark emissary and bid me to save you.” The druid said as he helped them aboard.

Quietly, the duo trained their eyes on him, watching for any suspicious activity when he quickly moved to cast a spell, prompting the two to put their hands on their weapons. This time the air seemed to whirl and shift all around them as the water itself began pushing the ferry along, taking them away from the ruined town.

Though still doubtful of the druid’s intention, the duo sat back down, shared a look and sighed. One in relief, one in sorrow.

Evaline Rosengart felt more and more angry as the journey wore on First it was in the town where Vendrick usurped control. Then it was during the camping portions, Eva’s outlanders had come prepared for rugged wilderness camping, their gear reflective of this whilst Mortiz and his class came packed for a vacation. Their tents were all of luxury make and their house knights occasionally helped them perform tasks beyond their purview. Unlike the outlanders who were being forced by Eva to learn survival skills, herself embarrassingly as well much to the amusement of her brother’s lackeys. So it was that two hard days passed for the outlanders whilst the nobles lapped up the vacation.

Then they had arrived at the goblin cave, before Eva even had time to brief her class on the plan, Vendricks had divided up her perfectly crafted squads. She had balanced them with strengths and weaknesses from each member being taken into account, Vendricks and Mortiz on the other hand did no such thing. The most sociable or attractive people were assigned to the more high ranking nobles, the least palatable outlanders to lower ranking nobles. Throughout the entire process the Inquisitors and Templars did nothing besides scout the cave’s pathways and act as glorified chauffeurs alongside the house knights.

That was all fine, they would be safe at least. What was not fine, was when they intentionally excluded her from the excursion, when they needed a ‘trustable, dependable, member of the school to watch the approach and manage the supplies’. That is to say, by herself. It was perhaps what ticked her off the most, to the point where she no longer cared about the image she presented to her students, stomping off into the cave alone much to the surprised shouts of both the outlanders and nobles.

She didn’t know if it was the consistent egging on from the others throughout the week, or perhaps it was the stress of all her friends leaving her, or even just the tiredness from having to manage everything. What she did know was that her heart felt empty, like something had cheated her and stolen the joy from her life, leaving it hollow within.

It was after more than a few furious minutes later that she really took in her surroundings, her head cooling down only to burn back up with concern. These caves go on a bit more than I would think, though I did have everyone pack for an- ah… with a calming down of her heightened emotions came the dawning horror that in her anger, she had left almost everything essential behind. Barring a waterskin, her inquisition provided shortsword, her boot dagger, a torch, and a handful of candy she stashed inside her pockets, she had nothing. So much for being a sensei. She grimly chuckled.

Only as she calmed down could she see them all. Ovoid red and yellow dots glared at her from the darkness. Normally she wouldn’t care much about them, a few goblins were unlikely to hurt her. But the cave extended far, and she had traveled deep into a cavern she didn’t even know about. At the edge of her vision were dozens upon dozens of eyes just sizing her down. In her rage she didn't notice them but now, she was a little afraid.

Her chances of surviving a direct confrontation with these numbers were low, but they too seemed wary of her, as if they desired to guide her somewhere instead. Reluctantly, she continued trudging forward, hand a little closer to the hilt of the blade and forced a scowl on her face, a last ditch deterrence. Her other problem was that she was lost.

Damn, she thought as she stood in front of some stair like rocks leading up into a passageway, I thought I was walking in a straight line but I must’ve dropped down a side path at some point. Soft growls came from the goblins just outside her periphery and she pressed on, one tiny step at a time as she kept an eye out for traps. They’re just letting me walk through, something is definitely not right.

Should I just throw the torch at them and run? But then I’ll just be blind, damn. But with the light I can’t get used to the darkness, I wonder if elves here have dark vision too, should ask Sophie sometime. Freddie would probably throw a fit if he knew I was here, heh. Allowing herself a momentary respite, she grinned at the silly thought before something else caught her attention.

A deep low rumble echoed from the path ahead, the sound of heavy footsteps, far heavier than humans came from a fork in the rocks. She examined the path but before long could feel the nasty little critters behind her, their snarls reverberating throughout the rocks. She turned to look over her shoulder only to find that they had now entered the radius of the torchlight, beady yellow-red eyes squinting from the brightness, crooked noses curled up in disgust, rows of ugly fanged teeth snarling at her from their sickly green elongated faces. With a sigh and a sense of morbid curiosity she followed the right hand pathway, heading toward the rumbling only to notice the goblins lingering at the fork in the road, like they’re afraid of something. Damn.

Trying to choose the other path, she was met with a small phalanx, their makeshift spears raised in formation as she approached and she backed up. Guess there’s only one way to go, and shit they seem more organized than expected, I hope the others are alright.

Turning the corner she found herself entering what appeared to be a rudimentary hallway, carved through the blood, bone and tears of the goblins and their victims given the assorted bits lying everywhere. Reluctantly, she stepped forward, taking great care to avoid any obstacles when a sudden rattling made her yelp in fright.

To her horror, two gaunt looking figures cowered in the corner of a barely visible stone prison cell as a goblin taller than even her stood at the entrance, his meaty hands gripping firmly onto the stone colored iron bars. Unlike the other goblinoids he had a more rounded skull, less pointiness and only two tusk like teeth sticking out of his mouth, his body covered in scars and his muscles showing signs of severe atrophy. Yellowed eyes bore into her skull as she nervously avoided its gaze, focusing on the two gaunt figures only to identify them as humans. Then the big guy…she quickly gazed upwards and confirmed her suspicions, of course it’s not a goblin, it’s an orc.

The orc glared at her, his own gaze unrelenting when he jangled the chains around his hands and legs again, as if trying to signal something. Unsure of what to do, Eva turned to the two humans who also simply stared back. Prisoners, but why? To carve out more halls? But why the orc, rather how did they get the orc?

Seeing no goblins around them, she nervously moved towards the door, trying her best to shimmy it open even as the orc stared at her menacingly.

“Hob…key…” One of the humans rasped.

Eva looked up at the two and found one pointing vaguely down the hall. Ahh, a hobgoblin has the key.

“Help…water…” The other rasped, her skeletal hand making Eva’s stomach churn.

With a sigh and knowledge she’d likely never use this water skin again, she took one last gulp before she handed it up to the orc. Which, to her surprise, instead of drinking, merely grabbed it and clomped over to the refugees, his heavy fur boots making the same thumping noise from earlier. But this was not the only noise, and countless little footsteps slowly crept up from behind and she knew the goblins were coming.

“The rest are coming, I don’t know where they want me to go but here.” She hissed and grabbed the knife she kept strapped to her boot, tossing it into the prison cell, “I’m sorry this is all I can do. Good luck.”

Turning back around she hastily hurried down the hallway, soft crunching of bone beneath her feet making her uneasy. But with no other path out, she swallowed her doubt and kept moving forward. Deeper into the cavern.