Chapter 5: Pain
Dane felt like he moved through an unending haze in the months following the Great Circle's destruction. The blast had taken everything away from Dane. Menodora, Maxus, and Adelia had all vanished from his life, leaving a consuming emptiness behind. John and Sari, Menodora's parents, survived the blast thanks to their house being on the outer fringes of Margata. Despite having married their daughter, their sorrow turned to rage, eventually telling Dane they never wanted to see him again, blaming him for their daughter's death.
Dane understood their hurt, their Darkness; the same weighed in his soul. But to hear such vitriol leveled at him when they had once been so friendly to one another deepened the Darkness in his soul. He tried to reconcile with them, but their Darkness was too powerful, and only fed off his own, worsening their relationship.
Due to the mass of Anti-magic blanketing the city, Arkarium's expertise was vital in containing and dissipating it, which took weeks. Dane tried to offer his help in any way, but the citizens of Margata began to regard him with disdain once they learned he was the one who had helped implement the Dark Alchemy. At first, everyone replied with curt denials of needing his help, which later morphed into malice and beratement, even chasing him away. Once the task was complete, Margata's alchemists began rebuilding and healing those still alive and severely injured.
Regrettably, chaos descended upon Margata as a passive war between the Acaldos and the Zumistes. At first, each faction fiercely blamed Dane for the explosion, but later leveled the blame at one another. The Zumistes blamed the Acaldos for the careless creation of their machines that, to their eyes, ultimately rejected the organic components of Humanoid-A. Madae and The Acaldos, in turn, blamed the Zumistes for not creating their biological pieces with enough durability to withstand the inorganic mechanical elements.
"It was pure folly to think that machines could live as humans do! Your mechanical creations are an abomination to the neutral order! If you hadn't agreed to this project, we would have never used Dark Alchemy and avoided this disaster!" Carl would shout when he caught sight of Madae in the street.
"You think we are the only ones to blame? You also mentioned this experiment would lead to the evolution of humanity!" Madae shot back, making Carl grind his teeth in rage.
"We seek to preserve life as best we can, not extend it eternally! Your apprentice wouldn't have destroyed The Great Circle had you properly trained him! You no doubt told him to sabotage the experiment for exclusive access to Dr. Long and his favor!"
"I banished Russel from the Acaldos weeks before this happened. He was acting on his own! If you hadn't agreed to show him what the Life Force is and how to touch it, I wouldn't have had to dismiss him when his experiments became too immoral!"
"Immoral?!" Their arguments escalated into violence until the factions split the city entirely. Despite the venom thrown at one another, there seemed to be no care in finding Russel. Dane chuckled to himself, sitting on the central square fountain, seeing ghosts of his and Menodora's wedding and obliterating Russel with a fire spell so hot that it melted some of the nearby rocks.
All that remained of Dr. Long was Humanoid-A, which appeared to contain some of Dr. Long's brilliant mind for Alchemy and science, but not his personality, nor did he have any memory of his wife, Felicia, or his daughter, Keni, who survived thanks to a powerful barrier spell cast by Felicia. Humanoid-A did seem to care for both of them, becoming a helper and tutor for Keni. In the deepest part of her mind, Falicia believed that some part of Mathias still existed within this android and would return to her one day. Until then, she was content with the friendship of Humanoid-A.
While glad that Dr. Long's experiment had succeeded at least in part, the gnawing emptiness still ate at Dane. His Darkness research became a chore. He would read through his and Menodora's notes, feeling a presence surrounding him with warmth and comfort, suppressing the Darkness within him. Dane thought it might be some fragment of Menodora embracing him as though trying to offer a tiny bit of comfort, feeling like another person and not just wishful thinking.
Dane searched for a way to isolate that presence earnestly; it was a glimmer, the spark of hope he needed to spur him on in bringing Menodroa back from the grave. But as time passed, his search brought him to one absolute conclusion: there was no reviving the dead. However, that presence persisted, almost urging him to finish what he had started.
The loss of Menodora and the anger, hatred, and sorrow laid at his feet allowed him to see the Darkness for what it truly was. Darkness wasn't just the negative emotional wounds in a person's soul. It was also the directionless need for vengeance or revenge for the wrongs and wounds left behind. If tended to soon enough with the proper care, or Light, a person could heal and ease the suffering.
If these wounds were left unattended, they would fester into poisonous wells of pain overflowing out of control. These wounds often manifest themselves as violence, depression, greed, and depravities of the worst sort in humankind in an attempt to find a cure. But none would come. Any chance of healing these wounds was remote at the absolute best, non-existent at its worst.
Had it not been for the constant warmth the presence gave him, Dane felt that his heart would have easily succumbed to the hate and rage that boiled within him. He felt as if life had been torn from him when Menodora died in his arms. It wasn't fair that her bright life was taken from a world that could use it. However, this presence felt as if it were made of the outward healing Light the world needed.
Dane pivoted his research into the 'Light' he and Menodora discovered, trying desperately to harness it and combat the Darkness. But there seemed no conclusive way to think of Light and erase or push back the Darkness; it was far more stubborn than that. To add to the findings, Dane found that no matter how powerful or how much Light a person was exposed to, a spec of Darkness would always remain. It was like a permanent scar or disfigurement of their spirit, but never seemed to grow from that speck as long as one didn't allow it to.
The test of spreading Light from Azwan's Obelisk, which he and Menodora set up, did affect the Darkness of the World. But now that Menodora was gone, the next attempt failed because Dane could not effectively direct the Light through the Obelisk. He tried many more times, but those he'd gathered to give their Light began to abandon his attempts, soon leaving him as the only one trying. Despite the power of Light, no one person could produce enough outward Light to be used in such a manner.
A year passed with Dane still searching for answers about Light and Darkness. And then, it came.
All at once, a famine spread through Usoria. Many called on the Alchemists of Margata for a scientific solution to slow it down, but it still spread wildly. The famine decimated even the lush and plentiful gardens of Moon Terra in the southwest. Word filtered down from Oreyon that the Emperor was sending aid as far and as fast as possible. It was the only place that seemed less affected by this tragedy.
Dane shifted his focus from the Darkness to the cause of the sudden famine. Entire crops would simply wither overnight. Fruits grown in the East Dragon Forest would rot off their branches. Nothing was safe. He threw himself into studying magic, the only thing that seemed to slow the famine. Magic may not have been the ultimate answer, but it was a step toward finding one. Despite his study and using the strongest magical runes to create Barrier Sigils, they would only last a month. Even stronger runes were needed, but there were none.
Through all of it, that presence followed him wherever he went as he left Margata behind: Dane was practically no longer welcome there, leaving behind the home he and Menodora might have made. Eventually, Dane accepted that the presence wasn't Menodora, though he couldn't help but imagine it was part of her. That sentiment was enough to give him the energy to keep moving, helping those in the world. During his travels, misshapen beasts of shadow began to appear, the same he and Menodora had faced years before, only with more form. People and fellow clerics began dubbing him 'The White Mage' for his selfless acts and snow-white hair.
But it wasn't the same. Dane could spend the rest of his life helping those in need: curing illness, bringing food, hope, money, and comfort. But without Menodora, it drained him. Dane could feel the Light he had built with her fading from his life with each passing day. His heart would ache every time he visited a village where both of them had been before, and they would ask where she was. But Dane pushed on, stretching out what little of Menodora's Light remained. She would want to help those in need, and Dane wanted to preserve that. Nevertheless, how long could he make it last before his heart collapsed?
Ariel followed Dane every chance she found an opportunity. She was a goddess, but in her reflective thoughts, she discovered that she had been abhorrently absent in her duties to the people of Usoria. Minerna had charged her and her two brothers, Haim, Deity of Life, and Nanahuatzin, Deity of Light, to watch over this world. But Ariel felt her powers limited her to a lonesome existence: she protected and controlled Time.
When first given this duty, she used her power to stretch moments for some people into hours to help them remember it or help those in dire need. Other times, she would use her power to see what lay ahead and guide humans toward a better path. Still others, she would look back over a person's life to help them remember important things. But after a few millennia, her ability to define past, present, and future began to blur. Patterns began appearing to her that would explain how certain people would react, despite her help.
As more time passed, she began to grow disinterested and disconnected. Did she care too much? Did she not care enough? It all felt monotonous as fewer and fewer people sought her help or acknowledged her existence. Soon she began shirking her duties to the point of near non-existence. The few prayers of people for their children's protection went unanswered, and time passed her by quietly.
Ariel began to wonder what would happen if she were to disappear. The people of Usoria loved her brothers. But she? It appeared she had nearly faded into myth as only a handful of people still believed and worshiped her with any hint of sincerity. Irritation and resentment began building in her soul toward her beloved brothers. She needed something for herself, a purpose she could call her own. Looking back on her long life through her Mirror of Time, Ariel found something missing in her soul, leading to her helping the humans with such fervor. It was as if someone had taken that part of her away. But she couldn't define it, who stole that part of her, or when it happened, as if something were blocking her vision.
Then a massive surge of power jolted her from the pit she had collapsed into. She hardly recognized the world when she extended her mind to the surface. Yes, the place she had come to before was originally dimmer than most of the world, but as she followed Dane, she could hardly believe her eyes. What had happened? The world she saw was so much colder and unloving than the one she remembered. Had it been so long since she genuinely cared?
Ariel was so out of touch with the state of the world that she had no idea how to help the world she saw. Her best option would be to follow Dane as he traveled the world. Doing so would allow her to learn much of what humanity had become and how best to help them. As she watched Dane work, his compassion moved her.
When he would tend to someone with an exceptionally resilient illness, she strengthened his healing magic. She also amplified his magic when he would build barriers around towns and cities, slightly changing the sigils he used into Runes never before seen in Usoria that were stronger than any he'd found.
For all that Dane did, Ariel felt a stirring in her heart that she'd never felt. Or maybe it had always been there but was never fully awakened. Yes, she had felt love towards the people of Usoria, but this was different. She felt a longing to be with this one human. She knew Dane would be gone within a few short decades, but Ariel longed to be with him . She even began to refer to him as 'The White Mage', feeling strangely comforted and familiar with being in his presence despite never having a lover before meeting him.
As the days and weeks passed and she continued to help him, he began to smile sometimes, but there was still a quiet sadness in his eyes. Ariel would come to him when he was alone, putting her arms around his shoulders and reading the journal he would often look into. It consisted of notes describing Darkness, Light, and their Ultimate forms: fascinating concepts for a human study. Perhaps speaking to Nanahuatzin about the subject would give her insight into why these polar opposite concepts were so riveting to Dane. There was also a second book Dane would consult occasionally, but this one was different. It didn't look like it belonged. She couldn't put her finger on it, but it was there.
8 months later
"My Light. My ultimate Light is gone." Dane whispered to himself one day, staring down at Menodora's journal as he held it. His work kept his mind busy, but it didn't help with the gnawing loneliness, and after eight months, Dane's heart felt empty. There were so many in need, and he could still feel his Light shining in his being, but it was slowly getting weaker, and the Light he and Menodora shared was gone. With nothing to tend to his wounds, the Darkness was creeping in.
Women still came to him as they always had, talking with flirtatious tones, making him feel all the lonelier. And yet, that presence lingered. Was he going mad? The amount of sorrow he was surrounded by daily, both his own and from others, might be diminishing his Light and pulling him farther in than he wanted. Had his Light turned inward and begun absorbing the Darkness around him?
His healing abilities began to gain him worldwide recognition, even healing people on the brink of death. People started calling him a saint in addition to his title of 'White Mage.' The recognition did take away some of his loneliness, but all the same, he couldn't find the strength to smile genuinely. His notes reminded him that the Ultimate Light was the strongest when two people with outward-directed Light shared it with one another. If Dane could find someone like Menodora, whose Light face outward, it could put him back on track.
"Yes! That has to be it! If I do that, I could heal this land and myself as well!" his thoughts raced when he found time to be alone after a long day's duty and seek out women with this trait. There would be those he thought he saw a small part of Menodora in, and desperately waited for that person to become her. However, it would only lead him and others to be hurt all the more, further diminishing his Light. Most, if not all, only carried with them inward-facing Light.
" If I cannot find Light to strengthen my own, then I will seek out the Darkness, and Light will come to me. " Dane reasoned with himself. Rumors of a dark and shadowed land, known as the Forest of Peace, were sometimes heard as he sought out love. Many maps placed it on the far southeast corner of Usoria, three days past the East Dragon Forest.
"That is where I must go; Darkness is Darkness," He thought. But what would it accomplish? What would be his reason for traveling so far east? Was it the promise of solitude? There were no villages, no towns, not even the forest village of Lefra was there any longer. But Dane thought that if he could study Darkness in a dark place, he would understand how to rid himself of it. As he sat plotting the forest's location in his journal one evening, a Cleric of Ariel wandered into his camp. His wide-brimmed hat shielded his face from the unrelenting sun, and his simple tan robe appeared thin and stained from the many years of service.
"You wouldn't happen to be The White Mage, would you, young man?" the aging Cleric asked, heavily leaning against his well-weathered staff.
"I am he. Sit Fatri, ease your feet." Dane instructed as the Cleric sat on a nearby rock.
"Oh, thank you, Saint White."
"Dane, Fatri. There is no need to call me by such lofty titles."
"Oh? But your power and willingness to help have well-earned you that title. Even your sharing the new Runes helped a great deal."
"Even so, I do not deserve it. I have done all that I can, yet there seems to be no end to this terrible famine. And the Runes didn't come from my searching; they evolved independently."
"I've never heard of self-evolving Runes, but given your power, I believe one of the three deities favors you and has touched you. Have you considered asking them for help? Perhaps even the Great Mother Minerna?" the old man asked, his bushy eyebrows lifting slightly, revealing his dark, wise eyes.
"The thought has crossed my mind. But I have yet to find evidence that the deities exist. If they exist, I doubt they would answer my prayers, Fatri." Dane grunted, staring blankly into the fire as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. The old man laughed slowly, his smile making his thick white mustache pull upward almost to his eyes.
"Perhaps then you require a pilgrimage to reinvigorate your faith." The old man looked around a bit.
"Hmmm, where are we…"
"Arentia, Fatri." Dane smiled, wondering if he would be like this old man one day.
"Ah, yes. There is a great tree in the Victarani province far north of here. I have never been that far north myself, as I am from Al Neth in the northwest region. I doubt these old legs could carry me that far now. Seek out that tree: it is said to be the footstool of Haim, Deity of Life."
"And what am I to do when I reach this tree? Beg for his help? Or seek out some object that will end this famine, bringing it to him as an offering?" Dane scoffed, knowing that deep down, he wanted to believe that deities did exist, but the Darkness in his heart tainted his belief.
"I doubt he would be so callous. It couldn't hurt, could it? You might even find something that will cure this land once and for all." The old man smiled, leaning against his staff and promptly falling asleep. Dane grinned, helping the man to the ground to sleep and putting his blanket over him.
"Victarani. I should travel there. But first, I must visit my grandfather in Azwan." During his three-year tour to study magic in his youth, Dane often visited Azwan to consult with his grandfather Vusron. In addition to becoming friends, Vusron became one of Dane's many masters in magic. Despite using the Obelisk, it'd been quite some time since his last proper visit to his grandfather. Would he have some insights that Dane had missed?
It took Dane four days to reach the front gate of the buried city, seeing sand nearly burying the cobblestone road entrance, which reminded him just how long it'd been since his last visit. A low buzz from the Great Obelisk ticked his ears as he passed. However, the sound emanating from it was strange, making Dane pause. It was almost as if the power within it was on the brink of release. Shaking his head, he continued to the front gate, where a well-dressed guard stood in his path.
"We don't get many visitors to the city of Azwan. May I ask the reason for your visit?" the man asked. Dane looked the guard over, noting that he didn't have a trace of Darkness surrounding him, nor any Light for that matter. Looking past the guard, those he could see were also strangely lacking in both Light and Darkness.
"I have come seeking counsel with Vusron," Dane answered, puzzled by the lack of Darkness or Light.
"Vusron? Grand Shaman Vusron? Is he expecting you?" the guard asked, almost seeming to be in shock.
"Yes, the very same. Is there something wrong?" Dane inquired, noting that the guard's demeanor seemed forced.
"I'm sorry, but he can no longer speak with anyone. He spends his time managing the power of the Great Obelisk." Dane narrowed his eyes, looking back over his shoulder.
"Does not Azwan train Shaman for that very task?" He asked. During many of his visits, Dane often saw Shaman troupes led through the halls and streets. When he inquired about them, Vusron explained they were Shamans specially trained to maintain the Obelisk's power.
"I'm sorry, but that is all I am allowed to tell someone who is not a shaman of Azwan." The guard replied. Dane narrowed his eyes; the guard acted strangely, as if trying to hide something.
"Then may I be permitted to enter and buy supplies? I am embarking on a long journey, and my current supplies are quite low." The guard seemed to freeze in place until his expression lightened, and stepped aside, holding out his arm for him to enter.
"By all means. The market is near the center of the city. If you get lost, I'm sure you can ask anyone here, and they would be happy to guide you." Dane nodded his thanks and stepped through the gate, mentally noting the guard's strange hesitation.
Inside the cool facade, A long stairway led deep underground to a massive cave beneath the sands. Stone made up grand viaducts, pillars, palaces, and homes that comfortably crowded the cave's outer edges. Wide dirt roads led down to the center, where a massive but lively market sat. Roads spread out in all directions like veins connecting every part of the city efficiently, but they felt hollow and lifeless. Dane had been to this city many times, and even then he could sense Darkness and Light coming from the city. But now, Dane could hardly feel anything despite the throngs of people walking its streets. Was there something he missed? Or did these people do something that kept the Darkness of the world at bay? Were they exuding outward Light so much that it overwhelmed his senses?
As he wandered, he couldn't help but notice very few shamans among the populous. Azwan was known far and wide for its powerful shamans, and Vusron told stories of how the streets would nearly be split evenly between civilians and shamans walking them. When Dane would visit, there were sometimes festivals and rituals, some of which were led by a beautiful fire-haired Shamaness named Hilda. Out of all the Shamans, Hilda was adored the most by the people and fellow Shamans alike. But in the city Dane now saw, only one or two shaman walked the streets, and even then they seemed only to be well-dressed mannequins.
"Excuse me, but where are the Shamans? I've heard that this city was well known for them." He asked a grocer as he packed his knapsack.
"It's strange you ask about that. About two years ago, there was a sharp decline in the number of Shamans being trained due to all the Grand Masters mysteriously dying quickly. There are rumors that the new King despises all Shamans." Dane lowered his brow and pursed his lips.
"Why would that be?" the grocer handed him the supplies, seeming stunned for a moment before continuing as if nothing happened.
"The previous King favored the Ruby Shamaness, Hilda, showering her with gifts and affection. After some time, it became evident to all that this affection became love, at least on the King's part. But soon after the King brought her into his court, she killed him. The prince banished her from Azwan soon after."
"How does that connect to there being no Shaman here?"
"Rumors spread that the Prince, now the King, turned his ire toward the Shaman of Azwan and secretly began executing or banishing them. Only a few remain to maintain Obelisk's power." Dane thanked the man for the supplies, beginning to wander the streets again. There was something else at work here. Yes, seeing the lack of Darkness was refreshing, but the lack of Light concerned him.
Dane chose to stay for a short while and study the city, eventually noticing that everyone appeared to be moving in set patterns as if hypnotized. The interactions of the people all seemed staged and stiff, and not one person acknowledged his presence. Despite being a stranger to the city, someone would at least offer a greeting in the past. When he paused for lunch, Dane felt someone watching him as he read over his notes and looked up.
Standing among the crowd and surrounded by three guards and an attendant, he spotted the ruby-haired Shamaness he remembered. But her golden-brown eyes didn't reflect the kindness she'd been known for: they were heartless and malicious. Her black dress was also much more sensual and revealing than the white dress she wore for the rituals and festivals. Her stare lingered on him for a while before she leaned down and said something to her attendant before leaving, as the attendant bowed and quickly made her way through the crowd directly to Dane.
He tensed but focused on the attendant, noting how she weaved through the people. None of them seemed aware of her, but they all moved out of her way. Dane half turned his gaze down, scribbling something in his journal before the attendant was upon him.
"Excuse me, Sir. My lady, Grand Master Hilda, asks for a word with you." Dane shut his journal, tucked it into his bag, and sat back as he reached for his drink.
"Is there something wrong?" Dane asked in return, his stare burning through her over his cup. The woman seemed to freeze for a moment, her face becoming blank, then continued, but her voice seemed nervous.
"No, nothing of the sort. Are you not The White Mage?" she asked. Dane narrowed his eyes before setting his cup down, spinning it on its plate; he hadn't told anyone that name in the city, even in the past, so did she know who he was?
"I am. But what would Hilda want with a lowly cleric such as myself?"
"That is something I don't know. I am sure my lady is eager to meet you, so if you would follow me, please." She asked, holding out her hand. Dane was unsure what this meeting would reveal, but he could only do so much to resist someone of high standing. He was, as he put it, a lowly cleric. The attendant led him through the city towards one of the buildings that closely resembled a palace made of earth-tone stone. With each hall they passed, Dane noted that all the guards' eyes seemed distant and clouded.
A musty stench also hung in the air, mostly masked by the heavy scent of dust. Upon entering a grand room, Dane instantly felt a change: Darkness was thick here. It was almost overwhelming, making him stumble and lean against a nearby pillar.
"Are you alright?" the attendant asked, looking back at him with neatly folded hands, but a stiff and practiced expression.
"Yes. I just sensed something powerful is all," Dane wheezed, regaining composure and following the attendant until she stopped, and with a grand lift of her arm, motioned to the end of the hall.
"I present to you the beloved Shamaness, Hilda of the Crimson Sunset," she said as Dane neared and saw the woman from earlier.
"Thank you for coming, Master White Mage. Your name has spread quite a long way, and I feel honored to meet you face to face." Hilda said, half sitting on a fine desk on the far end of the room, crossing her legs sensuously.
"It is flattering to be known so widely, but as I told your attendant, I am but a lowly cleric," Dane repeated, holding his arms wide in a bow. Hilda chuckled under her breath and picked up her weight, holding out her hand and summoning her staff.
"Now, now, there is no need to be so modest. There are stories of you bringing someone back to full health from the brink of death." Hilda cooed as she circled Dane, admiring his physique and long snow-white hair. The waist-high splits of her skirt made her legs appear longer than they were, a distracting sight for Dane. Despite the Shamaness's title, her clothes were far more revealing than her attendant's, almost erotic. From what he remembered of the past shamans, they all wore somewhat modest garments.
"I'm sure that with some study, such an ability could overcome death itself. Even prevent it altogether." Dane narrowed his eyes, slowly eyeing her as she circled.
"Are you speaking of immortality?" Hilda smiled and tapped his nose with a slender finger and fluid movements.
"Precisely." Dane's face remained stern as he locked eyes with hers.
"Such dreams are not meant to be. I have seen what such thoughts bring, which dearly cost me and many others from Margata. What you speak of is simply not possible."
"Oh, but it is." She teased, walking back to her desk and pulling a bottle containing a swirling pink liquid from it.
"With this, I have gained my youth and beauty for as long as I am alive. While this potion revitalizes my youth, thus extending my life by a substantial amount, the fact remains that I will die one day. With your power and my knowledge, I am sure we could find a way to prevent it." Hilda prodded, setting the bottle down softly on the desk. Intrigued, Dane walked to the desk and picked up the bottle, turning it this way and that, watching the liquid inside swirl.
"What did you distill this from?" Dane demanded, looking up at her from under his brow. Hilda smirked, propping her staff against the desk and walking behind him, leveling her red lips to his ear while setting her hands on his strong shoulders.
"This is the extracted youth and Life Force of everyone in Azwan," She whispered. Dane's eyes widened, turning to watch the guards and the attendant become skeletons.
"You used the people of this city to gain such a fleeting thing as youth and beauty?" Dane growled, his hand tensing as he set the bottle down hard.
"Why not? The only thing I ever received from them was heartbreak when they condemned me for killing the King. That was a lie, of course, but since the King's affections were constantly on me, I was the automatic choice for the murderer. So why not use them?"
"Because those you used are more than likely innocent." Hilda's smile faded as she slammed her staff hard on the ground, power spreading out from it and rushing past a barrier Dane cast.
"You don't understand. It isn't the people that betrayed me; it was the city. But since stone and earth have no life to use, its people are the next best thing!" Hilda snarled. Dane dismissed his barrier with a swift sweep of his hands.
"What about Master Vusron? What have you done with him?" Dane demanded as Hilda laughed darkly.
"Him? That old man caught onto my plan in its infancy. But his duty to keep the power of Azwan in check grew after the unfortunate deaths of the other Masters and Grand Masters. He has been busy enough to stay out of my way. It was a shame: I expected them all to put up so much more of a fight." Dane felt his face grow hot as blood rushed to his cheeks.
"You witch," Dane growled, fire billowing in his hands. Hilda grabbed her staff and summoned her pet, a dark creature with glowing white eyes and gold-decorated horns.
"Blackheart, be a dear and dispose of this pest for me." Hilda smiled. The creature growled, black flames licking at its lips as it charged. Dane crossed his arms, summoning a barrier that cracked under Blackheart's force. Dane readied to retaliate, but Blackheart forced his way through what remained of the barrier. Dane's arm burned as a backlash of magic surged through it, only to be trampled to the ground and pinned.
Dane teleported away, holding his hands out as fizzing electricity leaped from them, engulfing Blackheart. The ground shook as the thunder clapped, melting part of the floor, crumbling a pillar, and staining the floor with soot. The force threw the giant creature through the air against the opposite wall. Dane stared at his hands in awe: his Lightning Charge had never been that strong, even with a sigil. Not even his masters had this much power.
Blackheart charged him from the air as he had sprouted wings, pinning Dane to the ground, with flames building in his throat. Dane teleported away, having to cross his arms when a fire engulfed him. Dane moved to counter, but stopped when he realized his spell might be more powerful than he could control.
Blackheart snarled, charging through the lingering smoke, swiping at him with his long claws. Dane ducked but was met with Blackheart's second foreleg and sent bouncing across the floor, slamming into the railing overlooking the city. Hilda held up her hand, halting Blackheart before he unleashed another billow of black and purple flames.
"Why do you hold yourself back, White Mage? If you and I found how to become immortal, our power would be unstoppable!" Hilda smiled. Dane struggled to his feet and looked out over the city, seeing that the lively crowds a few moments before were now well-dressed skeletons littering the roads.
"You use Necromancy on all these people, didn't you?" Dane sneered as she approached him, the skeleton soldiers clattering behind her.
"Necromancy is such an ugly word. I prefer skeleton puppetry; it's an ability I gained after draining their life forces and consuming them. It would have been a waste to leave all these corpses scattered around, stinking up the place. And now, I have an army at my beck and call." Dane's skin paled: he learned about undead puppetry during his study of magic in his youth. But even the strongest runes and sigils only granted control of a dozen corpses at most: to puppet the throng of this scale meant that something else must be granting her the power needed.
"How many?" Dane shuddered, still staring out over the quiet city.
"Come again?" Hilda chuckled.
"How many people did you kill?" Dane asked again, tightening his fists enough to make his skin creak.
"In Azwan?" The question made Hilda chuckle harder.
"If I had to estimate, it was roughly sixty-five thousand people. I did spare Vusron, though: someone needed to ensure the Obelisk's power didn't run wild." Dane threw back a blast of flames, tossed aside by Hilda before Blackheart pinned him. He tried to teleport away, but something prevented the rift from forming.
"Immortality is impossible! And even if it were, someone like you would not be worthy of it." Dane growled, struggling to pull free. Hilda walked over to him, crouching down while supporting her chin with her palm.
"Then, there is no need for you. As famous as you are, if you won't give me what I want, I'll find someone who will." She chuckled. Dane locked gazes with her and stopped struggling, recognizing one of the ways Darkness manifested in people's hearts. Hilda's had become the worst: a festering well of pain. With the recognition came the realization that Hilda drew her power from The Darkness, allowing her to control so many corpses simultaneously.
Dane thought there might be some way of helping people like this, bring them back from the Darkness swallowing them by exposing them to enough Light. But after seeing what such Darkness looked like up close, he knew such healing would be impossible.
"Blackheart, you may dispose of him as you please," Hilda called over her shoulder as she walked away. Blackheart breathed deeply, violet flames gathering on his tongue, lapping at his lips. Dane struggled to get free, trying to pull his arms from under the creature's weight. As the flame's light brightened, his struggle became more desperate, feeling the heat building against his back. Teleporting rifts would collapse as soon as he tried to use them, and his spells wouldn't form: his mind was too afraid to concentrate. Just as the light was brightest, something caught his eye, kneeling next to him. It was only for a moment, but the light revealed the silhouette of a woman reaching down for him.
"Menodora?!" When the light engulfed him, hot flames licked at his face. On instinct, he screamed until he felt himself drop onto the warm sand. He bolted upright, trying to gather his bearings while brushing the sand from his clothes and hair, soon finding that he was not far from Arentia.
" Who was it that reached for me? Was it Menodora? " he thought. As he recalled the image, he realized the woman wasn't his beloved. Her hair was too long and bright crimson, with a crown atop her head.
" Could it be the presence following me all this time? " Dane thought. Grave implications came to mind when he thought it was the spirit of some girl he and Menodora had visited when she was alive. But that was a thought Dane didn't want to entertain. The only thought on his mind was the need to return to Azwan and rescue his grandfather.
"But first, I must procure a staff for myself." Dane scolded. His masters and fellow clerics had told him numerous times that getting a staff to focus his great power would be in his best interest. But he never thought much of it. Hilda's command of the now undead of Azwan had shown him that his magic alone would not be enough without said focus.
Traveling into Arentia, Hilda's crazed, pain-filled fury reminded him just how thankful he was for this presence that followed him. Because of that presence, he didn't become what Hilda had: a festering fountain of pain.
" I must return to Azwan once I have a staff. " He thought, forcing himself to focus on rescuing his grandfather, Vusron, the power of the Obelisk be damned. Facing Hilda's undead army would be challenging if she became directly involved, so he must be swift and precise. Dane may be more powerful than most mages in the world, but even he couldn't face an army of sixty-five thousand undead.