Hope you like the chapter! Returning home on Tuesday so I think I'll be able to write the next one on my flight. Will update in the chat if it's running late.
Baelkor’s attention fixed on the central keep, and the tower beacon that pierced the sky like a shining needle.
The moment the Chosen of Ordana sensed a change to their blessings, it was as if he had too. Everything else had become secondary. The Chosen and warlocks battling for territory, the dragons overhead, the demons—all of it was ignored in favour of a single objective.
The tower.
In that instant, Marcela understood their role clearer than ever. She sensed Sumi speaking through her. The path ahead was clear.
They had to stop him.
“Sorcerers!” General Korteg roared somewhere across the battlefield, his voice carrying over the chaos. “Formation attack!”
The essence of Byzantius rose across the battlefield. Marcela sensed the union of others in that power. She felt the building of power as Chosen all focused their strength through him. This was one of the great strengths of the War God’s Chosen—not just the power to devastate battlefields, but the ability to bring together the strength of one’s on force and focus it.
The army of Alveron surged as one. Sorcerers of all gods came together with their great magics. The power built all around her. The very air was vibrant with its energy. Harris added to the force with his earth magic. Marcela focused on a Water Blade—she might not be a Sorcerer, but at her strength, her martial blessings were comparable to their spell blessings. Walls of light, ice, and stone rose before the giant in overlapping layers. Fireballs filled the sky with smoke and blazing scarlet. It barely mattered. Baelkor’s own forces protected him. The demon lord fought at his side, and together they were unstoppable. Alveron simply lacked the power to face them anymore.
Their ninth circle Chosen had betrayed them or died.
Those that were meant to guide them in their darkest hour were gone.
And the gods were not fighting, even here.
Trees of Damnation erupted around Baelkor violently, their roots tearing through the streets and towers alike. Toxic vines swept through formations of soldiers, dragging screaming men and women into writhing masses of thorns and poison. The giant strode onward through fire and blessings, unhindered.
Chosen struck sfrom all angles, desperate to bring him down. Spears of lightning crashed into him. Dragon fire engulfed his upper body.
Still he advanced, until finally he reached the tower. He stood at its base and gazed up at the beacon.
“No…” Marcela whispered.
Baelkor placed one enormous hand against the structure.
The stone blackened and twisted beneath his touch. Cracks raced through the tower as poisonous roots burst from his arm and crawled upward, wrapping around the structure in seconds. The beacon atop blazed brighter, radiant blue spilling across the battlefield.
And then Baelkor’s roots reached it. They burst from the top of the tower, wrapping around the beacon until it was tightly in their grip. Thorns pierced the crystal, and darkness flooded in.
The beacon flickered wildly as if struggling as the poison tarnished it layer by layer. Blue turned to sickly purple, then finally black.
The tower crystal shattered. A scream pierced the air, so loud and high pitched that Marcela and everyone around her covered their ears at once. She couldn’t identify a source. It was simply essence. As if the very intent of the world was dying.
A sound like the world fracturing ripped through the fragment.
The sky split apart, not the wound of the demon rift, but something far greater. Marcela staggered as the heavens above tore open in jagged lines of light and darkness. Essence flooded the battlefield in vast quantities. Wind howled through the rupture as reality peeled back like torn cloth.
And through the rupture was a palace. It floated above them, its golden towers shining amidst divine light. Glittering waterfalls flowed from its edges. The sky was clear and blue overhead.
Heaven.
Marcela knew it instantly. This was the Palace of the Gods.
Silence spread across parts of the battlefield as soldiers, warlocks, and demons alike stared upward in awe.
Only for that silence to break with Baelkor’s laugh. The sound rolled across the fortress fragment like doom.
“Finally,” the giant rumbled. “Lay siege, my minions! Now is the hour! The Pantheon shall fall, and a new order shall rise from its decaying corpse!”
His magic exploded outward.
Poisonous essence swept across the battlefield and wrapped around his forces. Demons howled as wings burst from their backs or shadows gathered beneath them. Warlocks rose into the air atop platforms of corrupted magic. Even the Trees of Damnation bent upward toward the tear in the sky like grasping hands.
Marcela stared upward helplessly. They were too late.
A dragon appeared amongst the ranks of flying demons, fire carving a path through their ranks. Black scales gleamed amidst the chaos. Upon its back sat the woman Marcela had met before—the archer.
Silver light spiralled around both rider and dragon as they shot toward the breach ahead of everyone else.
Baelkor turned slowly. The women drew back her blow, and Marcela felt the moment the arrow took form. The battlefield itself seemed to pause as pure killing intent pierced every single one of their hearts.
She loosed it, the arrow carving a line of silver across the sky. Baelkor roared, both hands heaving as if lifting a great weight. The ground tore apart as a Tree of Damnation took form before him. At the same time, layer upon layer of black bark formed over him like armour. In his left hand, he held up an amulet, a barrier forming before him, while in his right, a staff formed from a corrupted tree pulsed with red light.
The arrow shattered all of it. The impact thundered across the battlefield. Silver light erupted outward in a shockwave that shattered even the ground around him. Baelkor roared as he was smashed into the ground, the arrow lodged in his chest. Blood splattered from his mouth.
He reached for the arrow and pulled it from where it was lodged in his armour, blood coating the silver head before it faded into essence. He rose unsteadily to his feet, his plant army gathering protectively around him. Alive, but for the first time since entering the battlefield, the First Servant of Uvdar had been stopped.
Yet a follow up did not come. The way cleared, and the dragon rider disappeared into the palace city above.
***
The chamber trembled violently. Stone groaned beneath Hump’s feet as the entire palace shook around him. Essence roared through the chamber, but there was something not right about it. Even at its worse, essence always felt energetic and invigorating. There was life in it—intent. But this…
It felt like death. Like the Remnant Realm. Like the Will of the World had been stolen from it.
Somewhere in the distance came the muffled roar of battle.
“I’ll have a look,” Celaine said, launching herself to one of the upper windows.
Hump removed the stone he’d formed over the window for their battle against Karlac, letting light back into the chamber.
“I can see the fortress city far beneath us through a crack,” Celaine called down. “There is a great battle. Demons, warlocks, and a giant that must be Baelkor are facing off against Alveron.” Her voice changed, hope in it. “The Dragon Keepers are amongst them.”
Celaine returned to the ground, her cloak billowing around her as she landed, light as a feather.
The war has finally reached Heaven,” Bud said, his voice heavy. “Our people will think they will find support here—that the gods will unite with them against this foe. This will destroy them.”
“Unless we can stop them,” Emilia said. “If we can close the opening.”
Hump looked around the chamber, at the dead gods seated upon their thrones. At the Divine Sparks burning in their corpses.
The war outside suddenly felt smaller. Whatever happened below, this room remained the centre of it all. It was here that they would congregate. Every force in the fortress fragment would fight to take this place.
Baelkor and his warlocks.
The demon lord and his army.
And of course, the Chosen of Alveron.
A terrible idea formed in his mind. Dangerous, reckless, and possibly impossible.
“The plan stays the same,” Hump said at last. “We take the Divine Sparks away from here. Take them away from everyone.”
“I thought you said the formation is connected to the seal of the Old Gods,” Emilia said.
Hump looked at her and nodded. “It is.”
“You want to set the old gods free?” Bud snarled. “You would unleash hell upon us all!”
“We can’t stop what’s coming,” Hump said. “Loften himself told us that there’s no way to prevent it now. Even if Baelkor fails today, they will still get out. But if we take the sparks now, while our people are below, at least we can set them free. They will know their gods aren’t here and that there is nothing to fight for. Baelkor won’t be able to get the power he craves.”
Bud stepped closer, towering over Hump, arms gesturing passionately. “But they will still achieve their goal! The old gods will be free, because of you.”
“And all this knowledge, all this power, will be kept from them,” Hump said.
Dylan frowned. “How? You barely managed the last one.”
Hump looked at his hand, the flame stil dancing above his palm.
Ordana’s spark no longer fought him. It burned, straining against his control, but he understood it in a way he hadn’t before. He was connected to all of them. Things were different now, but there was still one step to take. An impossible barrier to cross that was necessary to see this through.
“I think I can do this,” he said.
Bud stepped away and came to stand before Kelisia’s throne, staring up at the withered body seated there. His sword hung limply at his side.
“We can’t.” The grief in his face hurt to look at. “Even if she’s dead, I fought all my life for this. They died to keep the old gods sealed. We can’t be the ones to break that.”
The palace shook again. A voice carried up into heaven, too distant to understand, but its power was clear. That could only be Baelkor.
Then, a roar split the heavens.
The sound rolled through the chamber with such force that Hump felt it resonate with the dragon in his blood. Nisha lifted her head from where she lay. She felt it too.
A dragon had come. No. Something more.
Celaine’s head snapped upward, eyes widening. A wild excitement spread across her face. “Owalyn is here.”
Hump frowned. That didn’t sound like good news to him. What was Owalyn doing here? She had helped them before, yes, but only from the sidelines. Never in person. It had been a favour in return for what he’d done in Drakalyn, not out of the kindness of her heart. Perhaps she was here for Nisha, but more likely something else.
“This is good news,” Celaine said. “Why do you look worried?”
“If Owalyn wanted to stop the old gods from getting out, she would have killed Baelkor,” Hump said. “She’s easily powerful enough. The fact she’s only revealed herself now means her goal is something else. She is no ally of the Pantheon, after all.”
His eyes swept once more across the chamber and all the Divine Sparks surrounding them.
“I’m going to start,” Hump said.
Celaine turned sharply toward him. “We should wait. Owalyn could help us.”
“Or she could do something else,” Hump replied. He met her gaze directly. “She’s an enemy of the Pantheon just as much as she was of the old gods. Whatever she wants from this place, I doubt it’s in our best interests.”
“This is Owalyn,” Celaine said, almost offended. “She’s helped us.”
“Then she won’t have a problem with me stopping anyone else getting a Divine Spark,” Hump said. He stared at her. “I need you on board. My body will be here. I’m going to use the Timestop Hourglass to buy me some time, but I can’t do it without you.”
She met his eyes with a deep frown. “This is too big for us,” she said quietly. “We should trust in Owalyn.”
“No,” Bud said. “We cannot—”
Hump held up a hand. “No. To both of you. The first sparks were taken from the Wandering Wizard. Today, I shall reclaim them. We can decide what to do with them later. Are you both with me? There isn’t time to debate this further.”
“I’m in,” Dylan said.
“He makes sense, Bud,” Emilia said. “This is the only thing we can do to have any sense of control over what happens next.”
Bud sighed. “Do it,” Bud said. “Take the sparks. Better you than her, or anyone else.”
Celaine nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll see you once it’s done,” Hump said.
Before anyone could convince him otherwise, Hump took out the phylactery. The world folded. His consciousness plunged inward. One moment he stood within the great throne chamber, the next he was inside the pocket dimension, staring up at the library.
Walt stared down at him from atop the staircase, his single eye wide. “You’re here quick.” His eye frowned. “What happened to you. You’re glowing, kid. Radiant even.”
Hump glanced at his hands but didn’t see anything different. “I absorbed part of a Divine Spark.”
Walt blinked once.
“Well… damn.” He scratched at his jawbone. “Alright. That certainly changes things.”
“It has to,” Hump said. “Because we need to move every Divine Spark into here.”
“What are you planning to do?” Walt asked.
“There are two steps to my plan,” Hump said, already walking. “Step Two is obviously to bring the Divine Sparks into here. Step One, I simply need to advance to the seventh rank. It’s time for me to form my Soul Domain.”
Finally, he would breech the barrier of the seventh rank. He would achieve what wizards of legends had achieved in the past.
He would walk the path of the Wandering Wizard, and reclaim what was once his. The Divine Sparks—all the insight of the world, it would be his to decide to do with what he wished.