My lungs burned. The pain from my shoulders renewed and slowly pulsated. Like drums struck by a titanic giant, huge earth-shattering stomps echoed from behind, announcing the arrival of the Empyrean Hydra. However, I would love to admire Sinvaintra’s handwork, and probably test my mettle and craft, this was just not the time. Too much hangs by a thin gossamer thread, a thread that would snap at any moment. Every sliver of logic demanded that I move faster. A single moment to catch a missed breath, a single misstep, any unexpected delay would be fatal. If Sinvaintra made her move in the open, there would be still major ground-shifting events and urgent matters, which demanded immediate action. Delyn is too young. Far too young. Only an experienced capable hands could carry out these tasks.

Somehow my thoughts still doubled back to Lyria instead, even though it was obvious that Delyn has the most to lose. Lyria and I, will still miss each other. Our closeness and the soothing comfort of her presence. But I cannot -- in good conscience -- involve Lyria in any of these. There is simply no other way. I must abandon Lyria and face Sinvaintra, alone.

I stiffened and trotted down the steep incline, all while reiterating that it was never as easy as it seems to win a gamble against death. With every painful stride, a rhythm attuned to running ceased and the awkward gait turned to a staggering jog. Eventually, moving quicker than I estimated -- quicker than the bulk could propel -- the thick strained limbs of the Empyrean Hydra carried the massive creature with swiftness. Estimating the suitable distance to lay between myself and the huge beast seeking my demise, I lowered myself behind a boulder, to stay hidden and observe. A sheer wall of scaly bodies loomed over the horizon, blocking my view. As its approach neared, it blazed an eerie green light in contrast to the unnatural gloomy aura that surrounded it; like a cascading fog that hid everything except ghostly shapes hanging ominously around. Its legs, covered in wide scales and still somehow jagged, almost tentacles-like thews curled around those muscular limbs, propelling the huge weight with force and precision. On two forelegs, veins bulged visibly despite the scaly exterior. From the sides of its over feed corpulent body hung platform-like scales from which thorns protruded. As it moved great rolling gasps shook its massive body.

On each of its seven massive reptilian heads, coarse reddish-brown bristles, each a size of a wide twig crawled atop its large fanged maw; reaching all the way into their necks. Its many joints and segments moulded through arcane forbidden rituals into a singular moving form, providing it with great strength. Beneath each of its horned heads, flashed its cunning ophidian eyes of amber and blue. All of them stared down, seeking my presence with a chilling blank expression conveying madness and contempt. One of the heads blinked its eyes lazily before returning to its assigned task. From its wide legs elongated claws laced undoubtedly with poison; a single swipe powerful enough to paralyze a fully grown wyvern. The extended razor-edged claws, shrouded in gossamer membranes glistened despite being half-covered in bile and viscera. These, along with its burning sulphurous odour and powers fuelled by legends themselves, combined to create an image of soul-crushing terror.

The staggering vision kicked me back to remind myself of what I must accomplish. Without giving into trepidation, I steadied with firm footing and darted myself around the Empyrean Hydra. I hoped that by the time it realised that its quarry fled in the opposite direction and turned its massive body to pursue me, I would already be firmly nested in the aqueduct.

Empyrean Hydra. I scoffed at the irony of the name. For a creature summoned from the depths of the abyss, empyrean was the last attribute one would attach to it, until, I realised why Sinvaintra choose the word empyrean -- the highest dwelling place of an evolved being. Just what I expected of Sinvaintra, despite her affinity for pomp and flashy entrances, hidden behind all those glamour, she still favoured practicality.

Those thick bristles invading the faces of the hydra, I would wager that they would definitely serve as some sort of sensory enhancement organ. Just as the thought crossed my mind, the bristles slowly danced in acknowledgement. Their motion sent waves of small twitchings throughout the heads and proceeded down their long neck till the subtle twitchings spread throughout the sprawling monstrosity. They gathered together and separated like a cascading wave, accompanied by a faint pale pink colouration that glowed at the tip of the bristles. In a series of rambles, the pale pink colouration rattled and pulsated. And in perfect unison, all seven heads turned in my direction.

I exhaled sharply, suppressing the hyperventilation that came at that horrid sight. While ordinarily, the heads might not qualify as scary, without knowing exactly what to expect beforehand; the anticipation piled up churning bile in my stomach. Seven pairs of flared nostrils atop ravenous maws slowly advanced in my direction.

Overwhelming! I shivered while trying to suppress my nervous laugh.

A bright yellow flame erupted and soaked the ground where I stood moments ago, followed by a bolt of cerulean blue lightning striking the very ground in my vicinity. Elemental powers!

Fighting against panic, I took a few steps backwards, mindful not to exert myself or leave myself in a vulnerable position. Despite taking defensive measures, my posture left me quivering with fear while icy sweat emanated from my body. A heavy silence, broken only by the sound of my own breathing filled the air. Contrary to its external appearance and true to its name, the Empyrean Hydra awaited with intense patience, only two of its heads participated in the attack while the rest five considered my moves with almost a prescient intensity.

Soon, a third head joined as its neck thrust forward, and a rivulet of a glowing harlequin green liquid poured forth, washing the ground where it fell with burning vitriol. I landed a few paces in haste to avoid a sprayed acidic shower. Evidently, the acidic mixture collected inside the Empyrean Hydra was more potent in the wake of the purposefully engineered research.

For a moment, I toyed with the possibility of using elements against one another but immediately scoffed at the absurdness of the plan. Sinvaintra would not be so naive to let such a vulnerability exist in her carefully crafted plan. Judging by the elemental affinity of the three heads, I would reckon that the fourth head would spew poison mist or fog, the fight, a bone-shattering shriek and the sixth would generate a heavy gale or windstorm. But it is the seventh head that worried me most, mainly because of its physical enhancements.

Given the array of skills that the Empyrean Hydra possessed, even its formidable claws could tear apart a heavily armoured knight as if they were in rags. Immediately after displaying its prowess, the creature launched itself covering the grounds with a leap that was unimaginable to its corpulent body mass. Finally, all seven heads roared, a full bellow of exaggerated rage. Three of its seven heads constantly followed my swift evasion.

I ran with desperate speed, dodging several gashes made by its outspread claws. Wherever I landed, its shadow of death loomed closer. I scrambled high over the crumbling walls, latching onto thick boulders, attempting to hold on for life. A quick glance told me that I still have a wide distance to reach the aqueduct. Of course, the creature wasn’t stupid, it acted swiftly by finding ways to cut my escape. It pummelled the ground with its thick battering ram-like tail with thorn protrusion on its tip, generating tremors. The pulsating quakes propagated causing underlying stone and soil to slide dangerously. I desperately weaved around blocks of debris, fully aware of the fact that death could grasp me in its bony hands at any moment.

I struggled, dragging myself while using all of my endurance to ignore the seething need to vomit and was soon rewarded with an exhilarating satisfaction as the hidden entrance to the underground aqueduct came into view. I kept low with every twist and turn, marking my motions as unpredictable as possible. Behind me, an explosive sound resounded the eruption of a watchtower along with a wall. More rubbles fell everywhere, rocking the ground in an unstable manner.

I started rolling myself faster, driven by sheer panic and necessity. Bloodied and bleeding, I dragged myself further hiding between the natural ramparts. Trusting my instincts, I crawled on all four, till I reached the entrance to the aqueduct. Seeing the darkened tunnel gave me a ray of hope. Ignoring the heavy thunderous movement of the Empyrean Hydra outside, I stood, scraping the dried blood and debris from my arms and knees and finally gave a sigh of relief.

My sigh was short-lived as invisible forces stretched my hands and legs, threatening to tear me apart. When I looked closely, I saw fine strands of almost translucent silk wrapped around my arms and legs. I struggled in a futile attempt to free myself. My actions resulted in a peal of laughter contorted with cruel mirth. The sense of balance failed me as the thick braided spiderweb lifted me. The solid ground sunk below my feet while the dark tunnel of the underground aqueduct retreated further back and with that the hope of a safe haven from the Empyrean Hydra shrunk.

“You have grown complacent, Rylonvirah,” said the Tenebrous Weaver. A look of amusement danced on her thin face as she referred to me by my name; an insolent act, that she would not have dared under other situations.

Tied spread eagle and held by tight spider silk cords of the Arachnoloth, I could only twist my neck and pound my fists against the netting. I struggled but every single struggle seemed to bring a pleased look to the Tenebrous Weaver’s astutely appraising face. I cursed and struggled bitterly.

“Give the desperate a chance to freedom and deny it at their last step,” she quoted wryly, with withered words amid flashing teeth,” That is how you break someone.”

I did not dodge the Empyrean Hydra. She wanted me here. To desperately seek shelter and experience despair.

“Let me talk to Sinvaintra,” I asked.

Her eyes flickered towards my bound hands and then towards my lips. With a flick of her wrist, she gestured to the Arachnoloth. The webbing holding me pulled me closer to the Sister of Tenebrous Weave. I was held opposite to her, unwilling, defeated and almost broken. With her arms firmly wrapped behind her back and neck thrust forward, close enough for me to catch her scent, she scrutinised me closely with furrowed brows.

“No,” she replied firmly with an authoritarian tone.

Not waiting for another response, my eyes pierced the Tenebrous Weaver who in turn returned the gaze with genuine curiosity.

She adjusted the folds of her fine embroidered purple mantle and asked, “Do you know why the gracious mother claims your death?”

“No,” I kept my response short. She has already shown me where she stands, The rest is just her show of power, to inflate her pride.

“Good,” she moved a few steps away and turned again to consider my state; convinced that she had me where she wanted, she continued, “Neither do I,”

She turned again and continued walking away from me, while the Empyrean Hydra slowly advanced with ravenous eyes. Only the Arachnoloth stood unfazed.

With the obvious knowledge of my certain death, my face contorted to convey disdain and sneer mixed with a sense of defiant stubbornness. As the shadow of the Empyrean Hydra encroached over me, darkness descended slowly. My thoughts kept crashing between Delyn and Lyria. Wordless cries stifled, lost beneath slabs of broken recollections and failed promises. I still don’t know if Delyn would shed tears for me. My only comfort was that, with Celerim by her side, Lyria will definitely aid her should the need arise.

The Empyrean Hydra drew closer and all of its seven heads raised in synchronisation. The bristles around its head, now stood steady and filled with a light pink colour, almost as if the hydra soaked itself in a sea of tranquillity born of my death. It drew a deep breath, lungs filled with air, prepared for its next move. Its tail pointed down and swivelling, ready for the strike. And then the Empyrean Hydra’s leftmost head exploded, spattering blood, shattered bone fragments and pink viscera.

The bristles of its other heads rambled and turned bright orange. An extremely bright and deep orange, its intensity proportional to the threat that it faced.

Lyria swung her Warhammer at a thick metallic rock, almost thrice the size of her head and stuck it with the force of a hundred battering rams. The rock flew at an amazing speed, propelled by the supernatural strength behind Lyria’s strike. The sound of it travelling through the air, reached a few heartbeats after it struck its target -- another of the Empyrean Hydra’s head. More gore and brain matter flew and scattered around. In response, the bristles of the remaining five heads turned a brilliant orange and ruffled creating an uncomfortable rattling noise of a giant rattlesnake den.

“Rils, you were supposed to be behind us,” chided Lyria with contorted mirth. She hefted her Warhammer on her muscle-defined shoulders and took longer strides at a pace impossible for ordinary mortals. Despite the adversaries we face, with her intoxicating aura, all doubts about my fatal predicament vanished. She moved with her indomitable fervour, with glory and grace in every step. There was love in her movement, which felt so right at this time. I could only blush as the immediate thought of her rescuing me from the spiderweb and scooping me in her powerful arms seemed like a very plausible reality. I blushed more with the sudden thought of what Lyria would want from me afterwards.

Although somewhat enraged, my yearning desire intensified as I imagined her kicking away the entanglements, smashing hydra heads, drawing demon blood and more importantly, smothering me into sweet intimacy; and how alluring her lithe and graceful body would look when she twirls around in throngs of passion. Sincere desires surged beyond caution and rationale. I imagined rolling naked under a sheet with Lyria. An all-consuming tenderness accompanied everything that I felt for her. A honey-sweet craving stole the last bit of objectivity from me.

“Archdemoness, what stake do you have here?” asked the Arachnoloth, “Do you have a claim on her soul?”

Without breaking stride, Lyria approached closer. Her posture altered to match her wrathful passion. I felt mine surge to match hers.

“No, she is my soul,” replied Lyria.