Chapter 3: The Day Unlike All Others
The morning feels off. She cannot quite place why, but somehow it is. Sunako awakes feeling anxious, as if all her nerves are homing in on an unknown source. She flits about her bedroom, getting ready for just about any instance she could think of. She cannot fathom what is wrong. It just feels like there is something she's missing. It sits in the back of Sunako's mind; the reason is just on the tip of her tongue; the source of her unnerve remains just out of sight.
She spends the morning on alert, trying to figure out what is wrong. Her first thoughts are that the Radiant Creatures might be the cause. However, that doesn't sit right in her stomach. There's just no way they could do this: make the very air feel like it is trembling. Never once did she feel threatened by them. Not even the Creature of Light pushed her buttons this way. It isn't his style to hide and build tension; he's far too obnoxious and proud to be passive-aggressive. Besides, as a whole, they are not a group capable of giving off such dark and menacing auras.
So, what is the cause of her distress? Why does she feel an impending danger? What is it she isn't getting? Sunako ends up spending the morning staring out a study window, stroking John's bare bone head in concern.
It's nearing noon when Sunako senses a spike in magical power. She's in the front courtyard, between the castle and the defense walls. She had thought about eating under the dead trees for lunch, but stops dead in her tracks. Around Sunako, the temperature drops drastically, and the air itself becomes crisp and dry. There is an inaudible pop in the flow of magic around her: like a pressure release. It's sudden—mere seconds really. Then, the front gate is on fire.
Josephine's shrill chatter is next. The sound of bone clattering together comes from across the courtyard. On the skeleton is a wedding dress, tattered and less white than the day she was buried; it drags behind her, but somehow remains set firm on her boney frame.
"Your darkness," the dead bride starts, her voice accented heavy with a magical charm. It causes the noise to echo through her empty skull. "We're under attack! And just before lunch time; haven't these barbarians any taste?" Her boney jaw ends up dropping in her distress.
Sunako does not hesitate to bend and pick the jaw up in her free hand. She is calm as she reattaches the dead bride's lost bone with a magic. "I know Josephine. It's fine; move everyone deeper into the castle. Here, take John with you." She hands off the skull to Josephine's less stable hands, which are wrapped in torn and tattered silk.
Josephine blubbers consent before rattling off through the main castle doors. Not long after, another skeleton approaches Sunako. Sargent George approaches with less noise than his wife; but, even with no skin for expression, it is clear he is panicked. His ribs still rattle against his spine as the groom stands straight and stiff shouldered before his dark mistress. His weapon, an old broad sword with no scabbard, shakes just so in his bone grip.
"Shall-shall I prepare for battle?" His voice echoes out of the open jaw bone. It is low and deep, as hollow as his ribs. The waiver, however, is undeniable.
"No," the Dark Princess assures her well-dressed minion. "It's just some adventurer, no doubt wanting to try their luck at a castle serving the Demon Lord." She grins, and the look oozes with wicked agenda. "It shouldn't be a problem; I'll let them know their luck's run out."
"But, my princess," Hiroshi's voice drawls like molasses. Sunako turns to see him approaching. His spleen seems to have fallen out in his jog to her side, as he holds it close to the open rip in his flesh. "As your guard, I should—"
"You look awfully dirty, my Hiroshi," the dark princess interrupts with a coo. "When was the last time you had a magic cleaning? You should've told me. Your rot is starting to show."
The zombie in question flushes just enough to tint his pale skin a closer shade of those normal and alive. It's still green, but the magic Sunako infused into him keeps Hiroshi's dead skin from stinking and rotting away. "Lady Sunako," the undead replies slow and sluggish with his half-dead tongue, but pitched high. "This is not the time. We're under attack."
She grins with wicked delight streaming through her blood. "We are, aren't we? It's been a while. I'm rather excited." She giggles. The sound is deceptively sweet. "And it's not those Radiant Creatures." There is glee in her words, but also a squirming motion in her stomach. Sunako believes that it all means she is excited for the change. It must mean that.
"And that's something we should be worried about," insists Hiroshi. "They are simple, predictable; these foes are new. We can' be sure what they are capable of."
"Agreed," Sargent George cuts in. "From what I can tell, there are three of them at the front gate. A monk, sorcerer, and knight."
Sunako hums, eyes drawn back to the still burning gate. Something from the other side keeps hitting it, causing the double doors to quake with several booming sounds. The wood shudders in its metal supports, resisting the outside pressure as best it can. She doubts it will shatter any time soon though. There is a metal plate hidden between the wood planks. "They're all a bunch of muscle heads," she decides. "It's nothing to be worried about, my lovely friends. They haven't a chance against the Darkness."
The skeleton and zombie share a look, which is odd and difficult with their varying states of existence. They don't question her though, as it is pointless. Sunako is already chuckling; her eyes have a wicked gleam and her smile is in a sinister twist. She cackles louder the longer she watches the doors shake.
"I suppose," Sargent George drawls, "I should get your helmet? Sword?"
Sunako's laugh raises in pitch but seeps deeper into a dark humor; it's near hysterical. "Not necessary." She extends her arms, and a dark void surrounds her body. The magic whips around her, contained but energized and wild. When the darkness clears, Sunako is wearing her favorite skull helmet. Additionally, her body is covered in a thicker set of armor than her daily wear. It is a more traditional set, covering her body in the same dark mithril as her favored headpiece. The gear offers unmatched defense and durability, but lowers her speed and agility. However, with Sunako's skill, this could never be a disadvantage. On her back is a war axe, bright and sharp from meticulous care.
Hiroshi grunts. "So, you are taking this seriously."
All that is visible is Sunako's gleaming teeth. They are like perfect, white tomb stones. "This will scare them good."
The two undead stare at her for a moment. "Okay," Sargent George drawls, and the last syllable echoes through his ribcage. "Shall we take position, or…?"
"Fall back to the castle with Josephine and stay out of my way."
Both salute. "Yes, princess," Hiroshi agrees. Then, they scamper off without further argument, Hiroshi struggling still with his spleen and Sargent George waving his sword.
Sunako turns her full attention to the doors of her castle wall. They are still on fire and still holding strong despite whatever may be hitting from the outside. She watches a moment, head tilted just a bit to the right. She then moves closer to the burning wood, straying to the left where a wheel sits and several chain lengths dangle from an opening in the wall. Each hit on the nearby doors causes the chains to rattle, and though they are heavy metal, the sounds produced are light like tinkling glass.
Sunako pulls a lever by the wheel, and the chains lax. Hidden away, the sounds of chains rattling and moving can be heard. The hits from the outside stop. All that can be heard now are the metal chains rushing from within the door frames and the crackle of wood turning to ash.
Sunako continues to move to the center of the doorway. A large, steel bar runs across one of the doors to the next. It is held in place by metal brackets on each door. With one hand placed in the center, she lifts the metal bar up and out of its proper setting. Without another thought, Sunako throws the metal bar on the ground, just out of the way of the door's path. She steps back, moving several feet away from the large stone arch of the doorway. The sound it makes when it hits the ground is loud and undeniable, almost echoing in the air.
The door continues the crackle. The fire has created a large mass of smoke, darker than normal due to the magic fueling it. The smoke is trapped in the arch of the gate's stone framing. A long moment comes and goes. Sunako takes the battle axe from her back and crouches into a more aggressive stance. Behind her helmet, her eyes watch and wait for the gate to open.
It does so with a loud and long creak of the metal hinges, relieved of the burden of staying shut. The near black smoke follows the motion of the doors, escaping out and up from both sides of the passageway. A figure appears in the doorway. Then, two more behind it.
The back left is clearly a mage of sorts. They wear a simple outfit, all skin covered in wraps, including their face with a shawl or head scarf. Across the person's chest are leather binds with glass balls, each filled with different colored fluids. In their hand is a knife carved and glowing with sacred marks. They are nothing like a grand sorcerer from the royal brigade, like a certain dark-haired Radiant Creature Sunako knows. This figure is lean and lethal; a battle mage that was trained for war.
The back right is no doubt a knight. The person is covered in armor that has lost its shine, blood and dirt staining the steel. Based on the armor sitting on their frame, Sunako can safely say this is a male knight. He carries a large broad sword, also glowing and covered in runes. On their back is a giant metal shield. It stands taller than the knight by a foot or two. It must be heavy, just like the armor, just like the sword. A seasoned defender, Sunako realizes.
The last, closest intruder is a large man. His clothes are simple: a vest buttoned closed with half-sleeves and long, drawstring pants. He carries no weapon, hands bandaged with some cloth that may have once been clean. Each muscle of his arms, pecs and legs strain against the cloth. The only way to have such muscle mass is through training— brutal and unrelenting, day after day training. The look on his face is rough thanks to his square jaw, littered with scars. His small, narrowed eyes are trained on Sunako. She stares back without issue.
"Dark Princess, right hand to the Demon Lord," the monk begins. "We are here to kill you."
Sunako stays crouched down. Her hands flex on the shaft of her weapon. The once small grin on her face is already morphing into something large and offsetting, teeth in full display. She doesn't lose her stance. Around her, a dark energy begins to build, concentrating enough to highlight her form in glittering black.
"Welcome, dear travelers, to your death bed," Sunako cackles, and then she lunges forward.
