Anastasia Pascal

The horrible marathon of battles aside, she was almost enjoying herself. Holding ground or exploring the streets of the dead city was oddly mundane now. Yes, the creatures were unrelenting and constantly regenerating, but the gargoyles were also beautiful. Her comprehending eyes saw their true essence.

They were Mana. Simply spirits of Mana imbued into the stones of the city. Breaking a statue didn’t matter because it wasn’t the creature itself. A husk, a vessel to work like a puppet. Before the Will of the magic that was involved, the stone was fluid. The dream of what a gargoyle was had been placed within the pool of power that churned beneath the city.

Protection. The word screamed up at her from beneath. A raging mindless pursuit.

Terror, beauty, her eyes saw and were filled with wonder. Though those grotesqueries charged to tear them apart, Anastasia was overjoyed. It was an exciting mystery and Damien had taught her to adore such things. There was no greater satisfaction than to understand power, and then replicate it.

She was beginning to be happy about coming to The Pit. Mana was freeing her of the chains of fear that had laid long over her being. Restraints that had been imposed were breaking, loneliness becoming an old story.

Everything was changing.

Good! Fuck my life before!

Yet, all of that birthed new horror within her as well. Anastasia feared change, that hadn’t really gone away. Still being afraid wasn’t enough to stop her anymore. The voices of the past screamed for the blue mage to return to her, but there was no need to listen to that voice anymore. She was free.

I have always been it seems, realized Anastasia in awe. She was on the verge of tears between the beauty of living statues and the blooming of self-revelation. Once the emotional chains fell off, the clarity of that thought rose to terrible prominence.

“Our chains are self-forged,” she whispered to herself while drawing on power. Her power. Others tell us they are there, but we are the ones that clamp them on. With a smile and the satisfaction of having pleased someone; having lived up to their notion of perfection, or at least made the effort to pretend. All the while, we could be free with an ounce of effort if only one was brave enough to make it true.

Silver Mana surged around her like a star. Locking onto the power that animated the gargoyles, the thrashing stone burned in Anastasia’s senses. She became aware of their every movement and torrent as they rebuilt themselves from every shattering.

She also felt the eyes of her party. Their efforts against the horde didn’t slow, but the silver display had drawn attention. There was almost a silence under everything, a swelling of anticipation as they waited to see what would happen. Anastasia smiled for the trust from her audience. This was what she had always wanted.

To be noticed and be wanted.

“Sunder My Foe,

Break Their Will,

Shatter the Flow,

Chaos Injection!”

The gilded words echoed outwards in a silver supernova. There wasn’t one target, but all those that surrounded the blue mage. Silver Mana injected into the streams of power within the gargoyles. They all froze as the structure within lost cohesion. Erratic spasms flung them into each other as the Mana within grew wilder and wilder.

Every statue exploded with a great crack and a scattershot of stone chips.

A field of smashed statuary surrounded them in the sudden stillness of the courtyard. None of it moved. Not a shake or shift. Dead stone. She had cut the gargoyles off from their source and deadened them to immediate regeneration.

In time the spells could seep back in, but not now. Not today.

Further, she wasn’t finished.

More gargoyles were coming, the horde unending. They didn’t even flinch over their smashed and inert kin. Racing across the rubble to continue was the only strategy that the constructs seemed capable of using beyond ambushes. Anastasia could see that her team was impressed, but with the next wave coming there was no time to praise, nothing more than smiles in her direction.

“That won’t do. I’d like some real praise this time, please.” Her voice was distant in her concentration. The words were spoken unnoticed.

A silver star bloomed again, reaching out to the broken statues. The light ignored the moving ones completely. Remembering and rebuilding the former structures that had flowed within the stone. She was after all a blue mage and what was cast could be copied.

“My special power,” grinned Anastasia, delirious as the Heartsong welled within her.

There was a silver flash, like lightning and then the field of rubble leaped. The broken stones gathered together into piles that softened into one mound. Silver cracks marked where pieces slotted together. Slowly the mounds rose into smooth human shapes. They didn’t have the morbid details of the gargoyles, but her statues were just as strong.

Statue fought statue as the blue mage struggled to maintain the spell.

Memories passed into her, so worn and washed out that they were meaningless movements. Only shadows cast by vague, indecipherable emotions. All ancient whisperings. A part of Anastasia felt she could almost walk to where those crumbling reminiscences could become blindingly clear. Her Heartsong could show the way, but something was missing. A step or two that was missing. Undeveloped. Yet. Lost.

It didn’t matter. The grip on the copied spell was fading. Her silver cracked statues were now breaking and unable to rebuild themselves anymore. Crumbling like the spell. Oblivion was pressing down on the blue mage, too much Mana too quickly having run through her.

Copying the spell imbued into the dead city had been a few steps beyond her limits; broken to recreate new ones, but there were repercussions to such hubris. Always were. Must be.

As she faded, Anastasia noted two things. One was that her remaining statues formed a corridor of retreat because of her faint desire to escape and the party was taking it. The blue mage was encapsulated into a violet bubble to be brought along.

The second was that the living statue spell had not remained on her spell list. The mental presence was simply not there among the others collected. Only a ghostly understanding of its properties remained.

That felt important, but she couldn’t think why. A fumbling curiosity that died as Anastasia disconnected from everything. Into the void of self, awake in nothing.

Mind down.

Evelyn Merrit

There were several entryways into the white dome. Circular tunnels that looked burrowed through rather than built that way. Smoothed to porcelain, but with wavy lines that reminded one of the stroke of a claw. Wind pushed against their entry. A chill ran through her body as the air hummed in her ear. The pressure was rising, Mana trembled around them.

“Sacred ground…” whispered Marceline.

She nodded in agreement. It was that odd feeling that the sanctuary of churches and temples always had. Especially the old ones of stone. A sense of weight from something other.

Past the umbilical tunnel, the dome was hollow.

Emptiness from wall to wall, soaring to the pierced oculus above. Nothing. Smoothed out walls; decorated only with the abstracted waves of the polish. Light reflected and glistened across those patterns from the ghostly light pouring down from the cloudy sky.

There wasn’t a clue of what the grant structure had been used for in the living days of the city. At some point, its purpose had been changed to a tomb.

The floor of the dome was covered in the ruins of a shanty town. One that was torn asunder and the pieces tossed about in absent fury. Eveyln knew this upon sight. Intimately familiar with the pattern of aimless destruction caused when violently pursuing one target.

At the heart of the desolation, dusty bones piled. Broken and scrambled. Thickening around an obelisk of vibrant gray stone. Her mind’s eye showed Evelyn the crowd’s panicked last moments. Clinging to the stone for one last cry of mercy. She didn’t know why that thought occurred, it could have been they were surrounded and there was nowhere else to go. It could have. But, the bones seemed to speak to her, beseeching for salvation.

The obelisk was covered in spellwork and the same proclamation on all four sides.

By Our Blood Was The City Claimed

By Our Blood Does The City Remain

For All Days Yet To Come

The Stones Shall Watch Over The Blood

The Stones’ Fury Upon Those Not The Blood

For All Days Yet To Come

Bound By Blood And Stone.

Bound By Past, Present, and Future

For All Days Yet To Come

Evelyn turned away from the words and scanned her surroundings again. Asking a silent question to the dead.

They came here, no, fled here, and were stuck here for long enough to throw up structures. So, forced to remain here for a long time. Then, they all died anyways. Whatever these people were hiding from came in the end.

She turned to Molly, “I don’t think this place is all that fucking safe. Gargoyles definitely did them in.”

“I think you are correct. No doubt the Sixty is being herded here like they were.”

“Alright, then let’s get fucking out of here! I don’t fancy trying to jump out a hole two hundred feet above me when those assholes come streaming through the tunnels!”

“Patience. There’s something to learn here and we aren’t defenseless like these city people were.” The cool-eyed woman strode over to the obelisk and bent down to study the spell designs. Shifting carefully about to read without having to disturb the jumble of bones.

“Patience my ass,” mumbled the dagger Sister under her breath. “You just want to study that runic bullshit.”

“I do, and we also have time before everyone gets here.” Molly grinned.

“Shit, fuck!” declared Evelyn as she fled her party leader, her Sisters following along. Once at a safe distance, she posed a question. “So, what do you gals think the story is here? Gargoyles got a massacre fetish?”

“It’s pretty… if you don’t look at the bones,” stated Amelia

Marceline nodded, but looked down at the bones with a frown. “Bones, blood. By blood and stone. Blood! It's about blood.”

“Whatcha mean creepy? Amelia, time to pay attention to the kill-us-soon scenario.”

The spear Sister pouted. “Ok… but you always think we’re going to die and we never do.”

“That’s why we’re still alive!”

“Not sure that makes sense…”

“Anyway! Marceline, you got an explanation for me, dollface?”

Big round eyes turned to her over a face emotionless as ever. “I feel it. Blood under the stones, in the stones. The city, made of blood. Runs on blood. They're looking for more.”

“Shit. Those damn gargoyles are looking at us like a can of gasoline…” growled Evelyn.

Working on instinct, as always, she pulled out a dagger and cut the top of her forearm enough for a steady drip. A small effort of will kept her Mana from healing it too quickly as the dagger Sister dripped in a straight line toward the obelisk. The first drops landed in the bone dust as expected, but the closer to the center Evelyn got, the faster the drops slipped into the cracks between stones.

Leaving not a trace.

Molly looked up from her inspection to watch the experiment. Hummed thoughtfully and turned without surprise back to the spellworked stone.

“Well, that confirms the fucking blood-sucking bullshit! I really want to hightail it out of here now. Fuck being wrung dry!”

Amelia smiled. “That does sound unpleasant.”

“Where would we go?” asked Marcline. “The walls are guarded. Everyone’s coming here.”

“Like I know! I just want to do something, not wait around like this! Hell, we haven’t even found the Gate yet. This place could be full of information, but that don’t mean it ain’t a red herring for that.”

“Let’s take a walk then!” cheered the spear Sister.

A quick smile showed on Marcline’s face. “Yes, the gardens are safe. At least as here, and very pretty.”

“Augh, fine. Let’s walk and see what we can see of our ticket out of here. And flowers…”

The Sisters put the unsettling boneyard behind them.

Leon Machi

The magically inclined had gathered at a respectable distance from the bone pile surrounding the obelisk. Every party had arrived to the suspect safe zone and, by his count, every mage had gathered together in conference. Not all had much to offer, but they remained on the edge of conversations in case there was something to add.

As Leon was.

Dissecting ancient enchantments and solving the threat of living statues didn’t feel like his wheelhouse at all. He felt no shame at that. Barriers, some healing, were his purpose for the Sixty. Satisfying work. Taking the initiative in these violent puzzles did not harmonize well with his nature. Protecting everyone through it was much more to his liking.

Still, these moments of confusion left him conflicted. A mummer of doubt that became a wish that he was less limited. That small conceit everyone had, made being at peace so hard. The bane of self-acceptance.

He spent the mage huddle half listening while debating the best defensive strategies for holding the dome against the gargoyle horde. It was the general consensus that the constructs were only pretending to be unable to enter the area. A disturbing thought that they had such intelligence. Tricks and clever plays were supposed to be the domain of humans, not monsters.

Blocking the openings was a cinch, even if there were a dozen of them plus the hole in the ceiling. His barriers had grown in strength. Maintaining that many wouldn’t be much of a strain at all. Temporary walls, nothing strange.

That would only be a temporary solution though. A couple of controlled openings in a few of the tunnels to allow a small flow through maybe? Normally that would help with the pressure and stave off trying different angles… but in this case once defeated the gargoyles would simply restore themselves. Hmmm, a siege here is more difficult than I first thought. Remaining here is not viable.

His attention turned to the rest of the space within the dome. The emptiness bothered him and Leon hoped to see something the others had missed. It felt like there should be more to the structure.

He scanned the walls to only see the same as everyone else. Polished smooth. Not a single detail to latch on to. The floors were similar, perfectly placed stones. No room for even a knife’s blade to fit. Yet something did catch his attention, but not with his eye. He saw nothing, it was more of a feeling.

There was an impression of a boundary. A sensation that the barrier mage had been noticing lately. Mostly along walls and doors, but also what must have been the domains of predators. The invisible lines that were drawn in the world by others and he was becoming aware of them. That was what Leon felt along the floor not too far from the obelisk.

A rectangular space that didn’t match the placement of stone.

He stepped away from the mages arguing over the nature of the spell powering the gargoyles. There was debris in the way, but it was easy to use barriers to shift everything out of the way. Staring down at the bare stone, Leon reached out with Mana to understand further about the boundary he felt.

“What have you found?” asked Molly. She had suddenly appeared at his side.

The barrier mage ignored her for a moment, tracing the space below him. There was something under their feet. When he finally turned to answer, Leon felt the eyes of everyone on his back.

“There’s a hidden space underneath. I’m trying to see if I can open it.”

“Where?” Something flashed in her eyes as the witch became more engaged. With a visible barrier, he traced out what he supposed was the doorway to go below.

“There… I do not see any physical sign of an opening…”

“No, it was something I sensed.”

“Right, my eyes detect something faintly. Russel, come over here and see if you can open a way through.”

The earth mage strolled over and fell to a crouch. Like a farmer checking the soil, his hands glowed rich brown as they touched the floor. There was a pausing frown as the man strained for a moment. “There’s a seal cutting it off that’s resisting me prying it open. Can ya help me out?”

Molly nodded. “See if you can create some friction so I can lock on. Yes, like that. Good.” Purple threads poured from her fingers to lay into the invisible cracks of the opening.

The two mages strained for a moment and then there was a flash of light as the seal broke. A hole in the floor appeared before them as Russel was finally able to force the entrance to open. There were stairs leading down into a red glow. The bottom turned immediately to take one directly under the obelisk.

Leon found himself up front with the other two as a crowd of mages went down to check out what had been discovered. As he had felt earlier, there was a room underneath; one cylinder in shape. In the center was a giant glass orb filled with a swirling drop of liquid. From it came the red glow.

“Is that blood?” asked Leon, knowing the answer already.

“Yes, the missing piece to my understanding,” nodded the witch. She looked pleased as a cat. “This is ancient blood too. I can feel the curses aligned to keep it fresh and unchanging. Preserved for ages. This is why the gargoyles went wild and killed the city. The binding above makes them protectors of those with this blood, but it didn’t take into account or they did not know that DNA changes to some degree with every generation. Eventually, the citizens weren’t close enough to their ancestor’s blood. The gargoyles began to see them as invaders and slaughtered them mindlessly. It’s all here in the guiding spellwork.”

Leon frowned. “As interesting as that is, how does that help us?”

“It doesn’t directly, but I can turn gargoyles off from here. Or at least disrupt their function”

“That seems way too easy…”

“Probably is,” agreed Molly as she began disabling the enchantment.