Long chapter today. Hope you like the chapter. Still owe you one but this one ended up being 50% more words than usual but also not one I wanted to split. I've got another 1300 words ready for the next chapter so hoping to post that tomorrow.
Bud rose from the ground on shaking legs. For a moment, the world spun around him. His ears rang. Pain shot through his ribs with every breath. He spat blood into the dirt and tried to orient himself, only to realise the trembling wasn’t coming from his body at all.
The world itself shuddered around him.
Roots churned through the ground around him, throwing up broken stone as they surged from beneath the Tree of Damnation. One shot towards his chest like a spear. Bud threw himself sideways, armour grinding against the ground as he rolled. Frostfire surged from his soul on instinct, blue flame dancing up his blade as he hacked the root apart before it could reach him. Another wrapped around his ankle immediately. He cut that too, only for a third to slam into his breastplate hard enough to lift him from the ground.
The impact rattled through every bone in his body. Ice Armour reacted on its own, ice erupting in crackling crystals, freezing the root solid. The frozen limb stood rigid and actually held him to his feet. He smashed through the frozen root with a gauntleted fist, then brought up his sword.
More were already coming. They attacked from every direction, swarming like snakes. Surrounded like this, his armour felt like a tomb. The narrow slit of his visor restricted his vision to a thin window. The roots seemed to come at him from everywhere, always just out of sight. All he could do was swing at anything that moved. One moment he was defending against an attack from the front, the next something struck from the side or behind. His sword became a blur of Frostfire as he turned constantly, hacking and parrying without pause. If he stopped moving for even a second, they would bury him beneath sheer numbers.
The Tree of Damnation loomed beyond. Power pulsed him its trunk, different from before. The trunk was thick enough that a dozen men could not have encircled it. Faces pushed against the bark from within, mouths open in silent screams. Blood-red leaves rustled overhead despite the absence of wind. Through the gaps in the roots, Bud caught sight of corpses scattered around its base—demons and people alike. The routes gouged into their bodies indiscriminately, bulging as they drank from them.
This was no place for him to remain. He reached deep, willing his wings to return. The power came slowly to him now, tiredness catching up. Before they had even partially formed, the stone erupted just in front of him.
One of Baelkor’s spawn shot up from below. It had been human before. At least, he thought it had. Thorn covered bark replaced most of its flesh now. Razor leaves protruded from its arms. Frostfire flashed, his blade hissed through the air, and the creature was split apart, each half of its body collapsing with the thud of ice.
Another took its place before the first had even fallen. Then three more emerged from the roots nearby—they had been fleshprowlers once. Baelkor’s corruption had somehow twisted them into something even more horrifying. They scuttled over the roots on all fours before throwing themselves at him like starving hounds.
Bud met them head on. Claws screeched across steel. His sword cut one apart as a second slammed into him from behind, ringing his helmet like a bell. A third struck his shoulder. Metal crashed against metal, ringing loud in his eyes. His vision narrowed further. He felt hot, rotten breath under his helmet, seeping in through narrow gap as something tried to pry it open.
Bud sealed the gap with Ice Armour, warding off the attacker. His own breath felt just as hot and stale. His lungs were burning, needing air. Needing space. No matter how many he killed, more kept coming.
His reserves were nearly gone. They had been nearly gone before Baelkor ever hit him. Before they had even arrived in this so-called Heaven at all. Frostfire still answered his call, but each use demanded more effort than the last. The fire felt dimmer. The cold less biting. His Heart of Frostfire aura didn’t even seem to put off his attackers.
There was no end to it. How could one man stand up to such evil? How could any of them?
Without thinking, he reached for the familiar presence at the centre of himself. All his life, the answer had been there—Kelisia. Her blessings. Her love. Her strength.
Yet all he found was a hollow absence more painful than any wound. He had given everything for her, yet she had been dead all along. A lie fed to him by the Pantheon. Even now, standing amidst the battle before the gates of Heaven, he could not get his answers.
The gods had abandoned them. Kelisia had abandoned him.
A root smashed through his guard and hurled him backward. Bud struck the trunk of the Tree of Damnation hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs. Plant creatures descended upon him immediately, clawing at his armour and tearing at the joints. The noise was deafening inside his helmet. Steel rang around his head as they battered him from all sides. They would find a gap eventually.
He was not on the path Kelisia had set for him. She would not save him. He was not her Chosen. Just a man with a sword.
A man with people to protect, Bud thought.
And if that was all he was, then it would have to be enough.
With a roar, he reached for those dwindling reserves and unleashed them. Heart of Frostfire exploded outward in a wave of freezing essence. Ice spread across the roots and plant creatures alike. The weakest froze solid where they stood. Others slowed as frost crawled over bark and thorn. He swung his sword, cleaving through four with Blade of Judgement, Frostfire freezing each of them solid as statues.
He could move again, yet as he tried to stand he discovered he couldn’t. A root thicker than his leg was wrapped around his waist.
The surviving creatures lunged, then stopped as red lines appeared across their bodies. For a second, they stood in place, paused, then their bodies fell apart in perfect slices.
Emilia stood before him, rapier in hand, a relieved smile on her lips. “Found you.”
***
Hump stared out across the battlefield, stunned as lines of essence revealed themselves amongst the blood and bodies. At first, they appeared as faint trails of red light threading through the chaos, linking Trees of Damnation together. Then more emerged. Thousands of them, spreading beneath the battlefield like veins beneath skin.
His stomach dropped. The formation had been there all along, and they had only been feeding it. Every bit of residual essence released by blessings and magic, every droplet of blood soaking into the stones, and every person that died.
Essence flowed through the channels in slow pulses, carried toward thirteen towering Trees of Damnation spread out in a circle across the courtyard. Their roots gouged into flesh wherever they could find it, drinking deeply. Faces writhed beneath their bark, screaming shadows trapped within the trunks. Crimson leaves shimmered overhead, radiant as if the sun was shining through them.
And somehow, Hump had missed it.
Baelkor stood at the centre of it all, laughter echoing across Heaven. He raised his staff high above his head. Rivers of ruby-red essence streamed toward him from the thirteen trees, pouring into the focus like tributaries feeding the sea.
Essence throbbed beneath his skin. His eyes were bright with power. Baelkor had never looked particularly sane to Hump, but seeing him now he looked more crazed than ever, overcome by the madness of power.
“It’s all one spell,” Hump murmured.
“Damn right it is,” Aldric said. “One of the biggest I’ve ever seen.”
Celaine stared out at the glowing lines spreading across the battlefield. “We can all see that much. What does it do?”
“Nothing good,” Hump said.
His eyes followed the formation outward. The channels stretched beneath every Tree of Danation and plant creature. The giant’s poison spreading through it all, connecting them into a single formation.
There was something familiar about it. But he couldn’t place it.
The ground shuddered as miasma exploded from Baelkor, rolling over Heaven in a dark green fog. It poured through the courtyard, corpse flowers blooming wherever it touched. Black stems pushed through stone, and more bodies awakened.
Soldiers that had fallen moments ago clawed at the ground. Demons dragged themselves upright. The dead rose amongst the flowers, roots piercing their flesh and binding them into grotesque mockeries of life.
Above them, the sky darkened. Not from clouds, but a canopy of branches spreading from the Trees of Damnation, stretching higher and higher until the blotted out the blue sky of Heaven. The battlefield was swallowed in shadow.
And then it clicked.
Hump had seen this spell before. Not this version exactly, but a similar one.
It was the very same spell that Anthony had attempted to sacrifice Sheercliff City in order to summon Baelkor. Back then, Hump had burned the formation from the inside by destroying the trees that anchored it. Just like this one, they had all been connected.
Compared to what Baelkor had woven here, it was far from as complex and powerful. Baelkor’s intent laced every inch of the ground within the trees, the giant’s domain expanded to their boundary. If Anthony’s spell formation had been meant to harvest an entire city, then Baelkor’s could only have one purpose.
To claim every life upon the battlefield.
The gathering essence grew denser. It flooded toward Baelkor in greater quantities. Plant creatures collapsed where they stood, their own power stripped away and absorbed into the spell.
Hump watched in horror as one of the weaker warlocks stumbled. Crimson roots burst from beneath his feet and pierced straight through his body. The man screamed for only a moment before his flesh withered around the roots like a fruit left to rot. His essence flowed into the nearest Tree of Damnation in a visible stream of red light. Again and again it happened, until the fog grew so thick he couldn’t see them through it.
One thing was clear, Baelkor had begun his harvest.
“Bring him down!” Korteg roared. “Don’t let the spell complete!”
Chosen and demons alike surged toward the centre. There was no sign of Demon Lord Draevor or Yunillia, both of them still lost to the sky.
Lady Isolde reached Baelkor first. The Chosen of Ordana descended from above like a falling star. Suns blazed around her, each one bright enough to rival the daylight hidden beyond the canopy. They slammed into Baelkor in rapid succession, a great boom following each.
The giant caught her by the throat with his free hand. Isolde gasped and dropped her golden sword. Dark veins spread across her skin.
“No!” Korteg roared, rushing into the fog.
Aldric advanced at Hump’s side, storming forward with Silver Rain warding off the miasma around him.
They slowed as Baelkor levelled his staff in their direction, the fog surging toward them, so thick with essence that it was overwhelming.
Isolde looked back toward the defenders gathered at the gates. Blood dripped from her mouth.
“For Ordana,” she said. Essence surged around her. “For Alveron.”
The battlefield vanished beneath light.
A blinding explosion erupted from her body, detonating outward with enough force to shake Heaven itself. The shockwave flattened trees and hurled corpses through the air. Entire sections of the formation shattered beneath the blast. The miasma was cleared enough for Hump to see group of Chosen scattered amongst them. He thought he glimpsed Frostfire on one side, joining up with a larger group, only for the miasma to begin to thicken once more.
When the light faded, Baelkor still stood. His body burned. The giant looked less human now. Bark armour had fused into flesh. Roots writhed beneath cracked skin. He seemed halfway between a man and some ancient tree given life. Part of his face had collapsed in and was so charred it was unrecognisable. He was missing the arm that had held Isolde.
Yet the formation endured, and essence continued to heal him. His flesh knitted back together before Hump’s eyes. His domain continued to fill the space between the Trees of Damnation.
Alveron’s army was breaking. Some fled for portals. Others came toward the gates for support. A few groups held their ground behind blessings and barriers, but the line was shattered. More and more were being overwhelmed as corpse soldiers and plant creatures surged forward.
Korteg rushed at Baelkor, roaring, greatsword held overhead.
Baelkor levelled his staff and spores erupted, drifting forward. The moment they touched Korteg they exploded into clouds of miasma. The general was blasted back. He tried to stand, but collapsed back to the ground, clutching at his throat. Wizard Aldric arrived at his side, magic already at work to repair some of the damage.
“Get back to me, Aldric!” Hump shouted to them. Then using Distant Whisper, he added silently to Aldric,“We only need to buy time.” He took a step forward as Aldric dragged Korteg to his feet and began to drag him back.
Hump came to stand just beyond the gates. Up to the very edge of Baelkor’s domain.
“What are you doing?” Celaine asked.
Hump tightened his grip on his staff. “Stay behind me. Dylan, give me whatever support you can. Nishari, keep doing what you’re doing.”
She stepped up confidently at his side, her scales of gold. His fire and hers surging around them both as one. She was tired, but her strength filled his domain like a second source.
The spores continued forward. Miasma swallowed the battlefield until only a sea of dark green remained. It washed over the Chosen to the right, slipping through blessings and barriers alike. Wherever it touched flesh, soldiers withered. Hair turned grey. Skin shrank against bone. Crimson threads of essence streamed from their bodies, joining a vast web that fed the spell.
But it would not reach the gates. Hump planted his feet before the tide of corruption. He would hold.
White fire spread through his Soul Domain. Lava churned beneath cracked stone. Every reserve he possessed. Every scrap of essence. Every ounce of intent. Dylan’s essence added to his own, warm and nourishing.
He gathered it all, just as Aldric and Korteg got back behind him, then thrust his staff forward. “White Flame.”
The blaze that erupted was bright enough to sear itself into memory. White fire surged across the battlefield in a roaring wave.
Then it struck Baelkor's magic, poison and flame colliding.
The impact detonated with a thunderous boom. Fire, smoke, and corruption exploded upward into the sky as two domains crashed together.
“To me!” Dylan roared into the fog. “Alveron, to me! To the gates!”
***
Emilia reached down and hauled Bud free of the root around his waist. The moment he was standing, more of Baelkor's spawn surged from the fog.
Together they carved out a pocket of space.
Emilia moved like lightning, her rapier flashing through gaps Bud couldn't even see. Wherever she struck, creatures fell apart in neat pieces. Bud took the attacks she couldn't avoid, Frostfire flashing along his blade as he met claw and thorn head on.
For a few precious seconds, they held.
Then the fog thickened.
The battlefield vanished.
One moment Bud could still make out the silhouette of the Tree of Damnation. The next, all he could see was dark green haze swirling around them. The poison pressed against his armour like a living thing. Even breathing felt difficult.
Someone screamed nearby, then another voice—a cry for help. Bud and Emilia exchanged a glance. She was barely visible through the fog now, but he could see the same thought in her eyes. Neither hesitated before they moved toward it.
“That’s Frostfire,” Emilia suddenly said.
Bud squinted through the fog, then saw it too.
A group of Chosen had become trapped amidst the poison. Their barrier blessing flickered weakly against a tide of plant creatures.
Bud charged straight into the mass. Frostfire surged from his blade. Plant creatures shattered beneath his swings. Ice spread across the ground with every step, slowing the creatures long enough for the trapped survivors to escape.
"Move!" Bud roared. "Get behind us!"
The Chosen didn't need telling twice. More survivors emerged from the fog, fighting back to back as their own former allies rose up to attack them. Before long, Bud found himself at the centre of a ragged column fighting for its life.
“Bud!” came a shout. “Emilia!” And through the haze, a woman emerged that he recognised.
“Henrietta,” Bud said, stunned. His sister knight. His cousin.
She was alive. Others of his old battalion were with her, though their number was much smaller than it had been. Another Bud recognised as one of General Korteg’s officers. The rest were wounded soldiers barely able to stand. They fought together, working their way around the outer rim of the fog, but it was hard to see a path forward.
Bud's arms felt heavy. His reserves were nearly gone. But every time he looked behind him, he saw people depending on him to keep moving.
Then someone pointed. “Look!”
Through the poison, far in the distance, a white glow burned. It was faint at first. A single candle amidst the darkness.
Then there was a great boom, as if the sun itself had exploded before them, white hot and so bright it illuminated the fog.
Hump.
Relief surged through Bud. He raised his blade, Frostfire blazing. “To the White Flame!”
The cry spread through the survivors.
“To the White Flame!”