The gods were dead and they were alone now. Orphaned by their divine creators, not abandoned as the ignorant claimed. No, that fallacy was the impotent rage of bitter children railing against long absent parents. Seeking a better answer than the one they had, something more palatable. The truth was a far grimmer beast, one very few really understood.
The divine architects of the Great Cycle had slain each other in a senseless war that had nearly consumed the world. They’d torn continents asunder and lain waste to cities so beautiful men wept at the sight of them.
Celeste’s centuries of searching had yielded nothing to suggest why such a war had been fought. It made nothing approaching sense. Why would beings of near limitless power battle so viciously that not a single one survived their collective wrath? It was folly. Madness. Yet it had happened. The proof stood before her.
A ragged oval taller than the most ancient redwood crackled and undulated in the heart of the fetid swamp stretched out before her. Through it lay a sea of blackness no light could ever penetrate. It was absence. Of light. Of sanity. The Rent was a crack in reality left from the godswar. On the other side lay the void, an ocean of infinity enveloping the Cycle itself.
Nor was that void empty. Rank upon rank of chitinous warriors marched through the unnatural portal, their midnight carapaces drinking in the waning afternoon light. They waded into the brackish waters around the Rent with terrible purpose, flowing between tufted hillocks covered in sickly yellow grass.
“There are just over six thousand in this latest push, Most Holy.” the fiery haired man to her right said, tone impassive. Lucarian’s flat grey gaze continued to scan the demons’ ranks with deliberate purpose. Only one with his incredible intelligence could tally their numbers so quickly.
“We can wait no longer or our position will be overrun,” she sighed, though low enough that none but Lucarian would hear. It wouldn’t do for her followers to hear her frustration. They relied heavily on her strength, though truth be told she’d rarely felt as bereft of it as she did this day.
She straightened, drawing comfort from the ancient staff cradled in the slender fingers of her right hand. Kereseth’s ivory haft thrummed in her grasp, the fire ruby at it’s crown pulsing eagerly. He was ready for the battle to come, more so than she herself was.
They could do this. They must do this. They had no other choice. ”We have beaten them back before. We shall do so again. Unleash a full barrage. Nothing lives.”
“Of course your eminence. With you to lead us we cannot help but win the day,” Lucarian replied, his carefully neutral tone putting the lie to his words. He knew how dire the situation was.
Drawing on the magic of the world weakened the caster, and most of her followers teetered at the edge of exhaustion. The magical energy stored in fire rubies had prolonged the inevitable, but most of the precious stones had already been drained. It was hardly surprising after five days of constant combat. Was their no end to the monstrosities the Rent could belch forth?
Lucarian delivered a precisely measured bow, clasping right fist before heart. The battlemage’s tabard was more ash than snow after so many days in the swamps. It’s once blue trim had been stained black by the grime pervading this awful place. Yet his grim resolve lent him nobility despite his tattered garb.
“Divison leaders attend me.” Lucarian barked as he strode down the mud slicked hill. ”Her most holy has ordered us to destroy the filth before us. Ready yourselves for battle.”
Below him a score of battlemages congregated uneasily. Each bore a staff similar to her own, though theirs were far less majestic. Their normally resplendant tabards were stained and torn, their blue trimmed cloaks little more than tatters. Yet they stood resolutely, faces set in masks of determination despite the enormous odds.
Never had Celeste been so proud. These men might fall today, but they would do so with their dignity and honor left intact. The hordes might take their lives, but they would pay dearly for that honor.
“Forward, to victory.” She bellowed, her voice ringing over the battlefield. It was time to push them back once more.
