1458 - The North Sea
Three boats slid up on to black sand in unnatural silence. The sounds of the world at large seemed unable to reach the place they had landed. No sound of waves, nor rush of wind, no distant birds. Nothing but the pounding of a dozen hearts as they took their first tentative steps onto the island.
"He is here." Ostanes whispered, his voice carrying across the silence like a scream. "I can feel his evil in every breath I take."
"Well then, let's go say hello." Egil said, not bothering to keep his voice low. The blind viking carried a staff carved tip to top in glowing runes, and the gleaming blade on a broken axe had seemingly been grown into the wood above his hand, root-like tendrils twisting around the metal to hold it in place.
"You have not met him as I have, Egil. He is unlike any warrior you will have ever faced, or will ever face again. We must be cautious." Ostanes insisted quietly.
"Caution was what left our order in tatters, and caution was what Salazar believed would allow our enemy to persist." Shen was the only one among them who looked his age. He did not use the stone and it's elixir to prolong his life, though no one knew what he used in its place.
"Salazar urged that we balance caution and boldness and never fall prey to a surplus of either." Ostanes frowned. "We cannot afford for all of us to perish, not unless his death is confirmed. Someone must live on to continue our work if he survives."
"Send the kids to sound the alarm. With any luck, maybe we will see some backup before he kills us." Egil shrugged. The 'kids', both over a century old, were the youngest members of the Order. Hair halfway between silver and gold, flawless skin without wrinkles, bright blue eyes that almost glowed in the gloom of the island, they resembled angels, and at a glance no one would have guessed they were even 20, much less 120.
"We have every right to stand and fight. We would never have even found this cursed place without Nell's sight." Nicolas argued. "We have left contingencies in place to ensure others follow after us. We have never even found all of Salazar's hidden vaults. The war will not end with us, even if we should all fall here."
"No, but they will be starting again from nothing, an advantage our enemy does not need." Shen said. "Egil is right. You two are the hope of another generation. You must go to the counsels, as quick as you can. There is evil on this island that will take more than a dozen dusty old skeletons like us to purify."
"I agree. The two of you are worth more alive. This will not be a fight decided by might or numbers. If we cannot take him with ten, we would not have taken him with twelve." Ostanes said with a finality that the others would not argue against. He was the eldest member of the Order, and the only one still alive who had met their enemy, and Merlin, before the line of Uruk had been lost with Salazar. When Slytherin had died, he left Ostanes as their leader, and he had tried to fill the great wizard's shoes ever since.
"Nick?" Perenelle shared a look with her husband. "They're right, Nick. Even if they kill him, his cult is still out there. The creatures he has already unleashed on Britain are spreading faster than we can exterminate them. We will return with help. With luck, we will find our friends victorious."
"Fine. Fine!" Nicolas turned back to the boats. "But we will take no longer than necessary to bring reinforcements."
Nicolas and Perenelle climbed into one of the boats and took off across the still, glassy surface of the ocean.
The others turned their attention to the monolith of black stone rising from the ground like a spear dropped from heaven. The treacherous terrain of course sand and jagged stone continued right up to the smooth wall of the fortress. Furtherance the coast, steep cliffs lifted the land away from the sea, and the cliffs themselves gave way to the structure as sharply as if cut by a blade.
Ostanes led the group up towards the base of the wall, a doorway becoming visible as they approached. The doorway was a simple open archway, no doors hung by which it could be closed, and when they drew near, they could see only darkness inside.
Makeda stepped to the front and knelt down to press her hands to the stone floor. Immediately, a soft, warm light began to seep up through the cracks, only to vanish a moment later.
"This place has been in such darkness for so long that the ground has forgotten the taste of sunlight." She whispered quietly. She repeated her action, but this time, the faintest glow appeared in the shape of footprints, barely lighting the path ahead.
"It will be enough. Egil, you take the lead." Ostanes gestured and the blind viking strode confidently to the front.
With Egil's sure-footed strides to reassure them, they made quick progress. The pitch black hall split evenly, and finally some light in the form of smoldering torches appeared on the walls as Makeda let the ghostly footprints fade. Both halls were identical, lined on both sides with archways blocked by thick metal bars. Any light or warmth from the torches seemed to be leeched away in moments, as Ostanes was able to come within a hair's breadth of touching the glowing embers before he could detect the faintest warmth.
"Egil, Shen, take Anastasia, Astrid, and Roger down that hall." Ostanes pointed to the left. "We will take the other. Go only to the end, then return here and we will discuss further."
The two groups began their journeys down the shadowy halls, passing cell after cell of bodies in varying states of decomposition. Halfway down the hall, one of the bodies moved.
"Egil! There's a survivor!" Astrid rushed to the bars, wand in hand, ready to open the door, when Egil stopped her.
"Hold. We have no idea what was done to them. It could be contagion, it could be possession. Don't forget our purpose, we must save humanity, not individuals." Egil stared through the bars with sight less eyes. "And that is no survivor. Look closely."
Astrid watched as the shifting cloth moved aside and revealed a large rat, it's mouth bloody from its meal. She jerked back.
"We will burn this place to the ground before we are done." Astrid mumbled.
As they approached the end of the hall, the air grew colder still, a feeling of dread and despair seeming to pervade every stone. Egil raised a hand and his group froze.
"There is something ahead. Anna?" Egil whispered.
Anastasia stepped forward, drew a dragged made of bone across her palm, and waved her hand, blood dripping to the floor in an arc before them. Everywhere the blood touched, flames sprung up, only to be snuffed out in moments by the ever-deepening cold.
Out of the darkness, a long, rattling breath, and the sound of shifting cloth, then, a shape. A tall figure, shrouded in a tattered cloak, gliding just above the ground, a skeletal hand outstretched. The feeling of despair amplified with every inch the figure moved towards them.
"Shields!" Egil shouted, banging the end of his staff on the stone floor and calling forth a wall of flames between the thing and his friends.
Anastasia stood on his left, her own bloody hand gripping his staff and pouring her power into his flames, while Shen stood on his right chanting as he traced complex shapes through the fire with a small cylinder or flawless jade. The flames burned white-hot, and finally managed to provide some small relief from the cold.
The relief was short-lived as the skeletal hand of the creature broke through without so much as a scorch mark, and with it came the cold, and the despair. It reached out and grabbed Anastasia by the wrist.
She jammed her bone dagger into it, but it did not flinch, it's essence seeming to eat away at the dagger like acid. Astrid stepped forward and swung her sword with all the strength she could muster. The blade shattered, but the force of the blow disrupted its grip, and Anastasia slipped free, clutching her badly frost-bitten arm to her chest.
"Back! Back to Ostanes!" Egil ordered.
"What is it!?" Anastasia asked as they ran back down the hall, the creature drifting leisurely behind them.
"I don't know! It is similar to a poltergeist from the arctic, but it shouldn't be able to pass through fire!" Egil said. "It has more substance than any poltergeist I have ever encountered!"
"How else do you deal with one?" Shen asked, seemingly troubled by netheir the creature nor their rapid retreat.
"Besides fire? Companionship would usually be enough to keep them at bay, but other than that- oh, I remember!" Astrid came to an abrupt stop, turning to face the oncoming creature.
"Fylgavar liksamvur!" She shouted, wand pointed back down the hall. A silver light flowed from her wand like liquid starlight and formed a softly glowing wolf, whose light cut through the persistent dark of the fortress in a way no other had. The oncoming creature reared back as if burnt, and the rest of the party cautiously approached.
"What is this?" Shen asked.
"Its the invocation of merciful protection! It's an old prayer that calls forward the animal part of your soul, and its invulnerable to spirits, including poltergeists!" Astrid grinned. "We use them to chase Shrouds out of old shipwrecks!"
"Expecto Patronum!" Roger sent a similar, airier spell that assembled into a glowing silver badger. "We never knew what it was for! It's known to be one of the oldest surviving spells, but it's always been more of a novelty for predicting animagus forms!"
Shen frowned and traced his jade stick through the air, mumbling something incomprehensible, and after a moment, a faint silver mist appeared.
"You must put the heart of your self into it!" Astrid explained.
"No, happy thoughts, is how we were taught. It's a manifestation of positive emotions." Roger disagreed.
Shen frowned harder and the mist solidified into a tortoise that slowly ambled forward to join the wolf and badger.
"What is that!?" Ostanes called out as he approached from behind. "We saw the light from the entrance!"
"Its... like a dementor, but much more dangerous. I have never seen anything like it." Egil said.
"What is a dementor?" Ostanes asked.
"A poltergeist born of isolation and despair. They are usually only found where the sun goes down for weeks or months at a time. I have never seen one where people live in real settlements." Egil raised his staff and added his own glowing animal to the menagerie, a massive bear that filled the entire hallway, floor to ceiling. "These animals... they are some old magic. A manifestation of some part of the deeper self. Maybe even Old Magic."
"Koru Shimagishtil..." Ostanes whispered reverently. "This... is known? How have I never heard..."
"We use it for repelling spiritual pests, and Roger says they use it for identifying your animal form." Astrid explained. "Its... important, isn't it?"
"It may be. Egil is right. This is a remnant of something very old." Ostanes shook his head. "A thought for another day. Come, there were stairs that lead upward."
The united group followed Ostanes, the collection of animals bringing up the rear, serving as a barrier against the creature that loomed just on the edge of their glowing aura.
"What evil was done here to draw such a creature this far south?" Egil asked.
"Not drawn, grown. The missing people, Egil. He has been using them to create this... thing." Ostanes shuddered. "Nothing else seems likely."
The stairs were steep, shallow, narrow, and roughly cut. An afterthought, jammed into the place where two cells didn't quite meet at the corner. Up and up they went, each level opening upon another landing of cells, each housing atheist one of the creatures. Behind them, a dozen of the creatures followed them up the stairs, the rattling of their breaths the only reminder of their presence as the silver animals shielded them from cold, dark, and despair.
The stairs finally ended on a floor without cells. A man sat comfortably in a simple chair in the center of the large room, a swirling mass of shrouded figures surrounded him. Without a word, one rushed towards them, clamping freezing hands on Anastasia's shoulders.
It took only a few seconds for the horrified group to bring one of the silver animals forward, but it was too long. The creature lifted Anastasia from the ground as it drew itself up to its full height, looming over them all by more than a foot, it's hood flowing back to reveal dead flesh, empty eye sockets, toothless mouth... and then it clamped its mouth over hers in a grotesque impression of a lover's kiss. It seemed to swell as Anastasia seemed to shrink in upon herself, the rattling sound of the creature's breath grew louder as it let her fall to the ground.
The silver bear leaped over her limp form and roared at the creature as Egil fell to his knees and cradled her in his arm, checking her pulse.
"She's... she's alive!" He gasped out, relief evident in the sag of his shoulders.
"Technically, yes." The man in the chair finally spoke. "I have no need of her life, only her soul."
"What name do you call yourself now?" Ostanes stood rigid, facing the seated man.
"Ekrizdis, lately. How do you like my nursery?" The man smiled casually, gesturing around himself. "It has taken much trial and error, but I think you will agree, these are my greatest achievement. On the subject of achievements, I would very much like my Grimoire back."
"You will have no need of it." Ostanes slashed his wand and a thread of technicolored light struck the man, vanishing as quickly as it was conjured. "We will not let you escape again."
"Bitter about London? Or Jerusalem? Or Rome?"
"Do not forget Pompei." Ostanes growled.
"Credit where credit is due, you were notably absent that day. Maybe if you had been there, your comrades could have done more than inconvenience me." Ekrizdis stood slowly. "But the past is the past, little alchemists."
A lance of blue lightning vaporized the chair, just missing the man. Egil raised his staff and brought it down with a thunderous bang, and another bolt of lightning tore across the room. Ekrizdis waved a hand and one of the creatures swooped in front of the bolt, jitterbug slightly, before floating away unharmed.
"My children are the future. Aren't they glorious? They will be the instrument of my apotheosis." He turned and disappeared with only the faintest pop.
"Egil, stay behind to inform the reinforcements, the rest of you, with me!" Ostanes drew a rope from his cloak and swung it around his comrades. Once they were all encircled, except for the distraught, blind viking, they vanished in pursuit of Ekrizdis.
Egil gently lifted Anastasia and with the silver bear as a guardian, returned to the ground floor and the entrance of the fortress.
High above, in the ever-dark sky, he saw dozens of floating figures.
"Egil! Anastasia? Is she... alive?" Nicolas shouted as he approached. Perenelle seemed to know already that she would not be recovering as she looked solemnly at the ground.
Egil looked up at the two returning friends, and the dozens of boats full of witches and wizards they had led to the island.
"There are creatures here, they are like something we call Dementors, from the far north, but they are stronger and more dangerous. If they get their hands on you... they can leave you worse than dead." He swallowed. "Roger knew a charm, expecto patronum, that can defend against them. Anyone who can cast it, take the front and back. The rest of you, stay in between. We have not checked for survivors in most of the cells."
"Where are the others?" Perenelle asked.
"Pursuing the enemy. He fled immediately." Egil swallowed. "Ostanes ordered me to stay behind, to tell you what we learned. To see Anastasia buried."
"Nell, can you cast the Patronus?" Nicolas conjured a ghostly silver cat. Perenelle nodded and her own cat joined his. Behind them, seven more people conjured their own animals. "Alright. We sweep floor by floor. Any survivors get immediately sent to the mainland."
"Nick... there are no survivors." Perenelle looked up at the fortress. He swallowed and nodded.
"We must try, nonetheless."
By the time they reached the third floor, Nicolas wished he had not insisted on checking every cell. It seemed that every step into the bowels of the fortress brought new horrors the likes of which he had never seen and would never forget.
Children who had been flayed alive, their bones carved in cursed runic script, and their flesh closed over. Their bodies continued to play games as their heads rolled on their necks like marionettes. A woman who seemed to have died midway through giving birth to herself, her abdomen torn open and her head and torso bent double to fit inside. A man who's body shambles around its cell until they opened it, then collapsed into a scattering swarm of unidentifiable insects.
On and on, each cell bringing new abominations. Twisted creatures that had clearly once been human. Corpses desecrated in ways that spoke of a cruelty that went beyond mere heartless utility. The evidence of tortures that had lasted years, even decades, before the victims passed.
All the while, the dementors lurked just beyond glowing guardians.
And as Perenelle predicted, not a single survivor until they reached the top floor. There was only one cell there, and inside there lay a still form, breathing slowly and evenly.
Nicolas broke open the bars and knelt beside the figure.
"My name is Nicolas Flamel. You are safe, now. We are going to get you out of here."
The figure slowly turned its head to look at its rescuer and then let out a sobbing scream, building from a haunting wail to a deafening howl. Nicolas stumbled back, and in the moment of confusion, a dementor slipped into the cell. The scream cut off like a snuffed candle, even as a silver gorilla lunged and seperated the creature from the survivor.
Nicolas gestured for two of the wizards to get the man away to safety.
Back on the shore of the island, there was a sudden shift in the air. The glassy surface of the water broken into choppy white capped waves, the stillness replaced by blistering winds. Egil felt raindrops hitting his face, and to the southwest, a feeling of dread followed a rumbling like the opening of the gates of hell.
In the last moments before the superheated ash, stone, and gas raging from Mt. Reclus destroyed him, Ostanes watched Ekrizdis drawing the glowing red energy of the volcano about himself like a familiar cloak. It burned inside him like the flames of the earth that were consuming his comrades, to know he had failed once again. Someday, the enemy would rise again.
He could only hope that Egil, Nicolas, and Perenelle would ensure the Order of the Remnant Flame survived to fight him whenever and wherever he reappeared.