THE PROFANED LEGION’S INFLUENCE WEAKENS THE HALLOWED GROUND

  THE BLESSING OF THE GODS WILL COME TO AN END IN 3 DAYS

  71:59:59

  The counter started counting down the seconds, prompting another wave of panic from the crowd. Alaric stared at the numbers blankly for a few seconds. “Well, that’s bloody great…” His voice was but a whisper, laced with exhaustion.

  “Calm down, people!” Charles’ voice rose above the crowd. He walked amongst the people, touching their shoulders, and holding their hands. “Three days is a long time. We will find a solution. We’ve persevered so far, we won’t fall now.”

  Empty words. Alaric closed his eyes. He could feel the gazes on him. The people looked for promises of protection. The wolves and knights watched their prey. I don’t know what to do.

  The sound of footsteps made him open his eyes. Jason, Lochlan and Avery made their way towards them, as did Clara and Ava.

  “We can’t fight them off.” Jason’s voice was a low whisper. “Even with that sword and the horse. We can’t.”

  “I’m aware.” Alaric watched the silhouettes in the swirling fog. There had to be some way to get out of this alive – some way that didn’t include a head-on fight. “Ava, give me that book. I haven’t read it yet – maybe it’ll have some information.”

  “What, about how to get a reward that strengthens the Hallowed Ground?” The young woman rolled her eyes. “I don’t think so.” The book appeared mid-air. She caught it with her free hand, then grunted and winced before handing it over. It was clearly too heavy for her.

  “No. About what the hell a Hallowed Ground is even supposed to be. The witch survived in that castle – and you guys survived when you were taken too. Can someone bring me a torch?”

  Victoria raised her hand and snapped her fingers. A small, golden flame appeared above her hand. “Let’s not take their light away.”

  He sat down cross legged and opened the tome on his legs.

  “It’s… a notebook?” He mumbled, looking over the pages. “Notes on Alchemy, The Chthonian’s Curse, Wyrdflame.” He continued to turn the pages. “These are the Witch’s notes, I’m sure of it. Look,” he pointed at some detailed ink sketches of plants. “She used these to heal the burns she suffered from something she called Wyrdflame…” His finger followed the cursive Enochian. “…The Wolves and Steeds do little to harm me – I think they’re afraid. But the Profaned Knights and their commanders… My magic does nothing to their accursed armour, and their silver-black Wyrdflame leaves awful scars that never heal.”

  He stopped, then slowly turned his gaze to an extremely pale Ava. “Yeah… Clara couldn’t heal this.” Ava said quietly and tapped on her arm with a bitter expression.

  “We can find the plant and use that.” Clara excitedly exclaimed.

  “If we survive, yes. Please.” Ava’s voice wasn’t as hopeful as her friend’s.

  “Anything about Hallowed Ground?” Jason sat down with a grunt and rubbed his stomach. The cut he suffered from the knight wasn’t fully healed yet.

  “I’m not sure…” Alaric’s head jerked as a wolf howled awfully close to the border of the Hallowed Ground. He breathed a sigh, then continued looking at the pages. “When Aetherfall descended on my world, I feared it. I denied the power and authority of the Empyrean. But now – I feed from it. My power has grown unimaginably. All I needed was to accept my role in the story woven for gods. I have fed from many, enthralled even more. Every time, they hide in their blessed grounds, only to be snatched up. A rich feeding ground.” Disgusted, he stopped and turned the page.

  “The Empyrean cares not for the weak and the frail. Their souls feed the heavenly host that keeps this cycle going. The Profaned Legion is but one facet of this.” He scowled. “I’m not so sure if there’s anything helpful here.” He turned the pages quickly, then paused as he recognized a familiar object, drawn with black and red ink.

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  “Here,” he started reading. “The mana cores are rare, and most valuable. Depending on their base and surroundings, they do different things. They store mana for later use when not put on any inscribed bases, but the Profaned Legion clearly uses them to weaken and eventually destroy the blessed grounds the natives hide in. I will see if I can create such ground without the Empyrean’s aid. I shall not lose all my thralls to the Profaned Legion ever again…” He’s gaze turned west. “… we didn’t miss a mana core on some inscribed base in that castle, did we?”

  “No.” Victoria shook her head. “I don’t remember anyone mentioning that.” She clenched her fist. “We need to check, though. We didn’t know what mana cores were back then.”

  “I guess we could call this a plan?” Lochlan suggested. “I’ll fill Charles in. And take Jason back to bed.”

  “What? No-“

  “Yes. You need to rest.” Clara cut the young man off. “Some help please?” She glanced at Avery, who nodded and helped them get Jason back up on his feet and gently led him back to the church.

  “You guys try and get some rest too.” Alaric suggested Ava and Victoria. “I’ll read a little further, see if she wrote any details about her plan.”

  The restless night left everyone tired the next morning. They sat by the fire, eating in silence. They watched the counter tick down with growing dread.

  “Right,” Alaric stood up once he was done eating. “We’ve got a few ideas, so a few of us will drop by the castle to see if there’s anything we can work with. The rest of you – don’t go too far away today. Keep the hunting and the gathering to a minimum. Make sure you’re all back well before dusk. Charles will help all of you organise your tasks effectively.”

  He could see hope dawn on some people’s faces.

  As he want to put Cinder’s saddle on, Martin approached him. “Hey,” the man said with a grimace. “Do you think I could tag along? I want to help.”

  Alaric hesitated. “… are you sure? It’s safe here.”

  Martin shrugged. “I’m almost fifty, Alaric. And all I’m seeing here is twenty year olds going out there risking their lives while the older folk sit in safety. I don’t particularly enjoy that.”

  Not like the older folk can fight.

  “I won’t stop you, but you saw how badly Reuban got wounded. Jason still can’t walk without help, and Ava’s arm may never heal. It’s not a small risk.”

  Martin’s expression darkened. “I lost two sons on the night you came to save us. I know how dangerous it is. I’m saying I won’t let other kids die while I’m sitting here in safety. Now, have you got a sword for me? The spear we made kind of sucks.”

  Accompanied by the two wolves and Cinder, the group set off. Aside from Martin, only Lochlan, Avery and Victoria accompanied him. It was a small group, and it felt odd to be out here without Ava. Still, they hurried, well aware that every second lost was valuable.

  The castle was just as they left it, though the small courtyard was even move overgrown now. Crows perched atop the walls cawed when they noticed the group. Some of them flew off, while others watched with curious gazes.

  “Keep watch.” He told the two wolves and Cinder before leading the group inside. “We’re looking for a mana core, or a ‘base’ with inscriptions. She didn’t explain much in her notes, but we know that it would be some sort of stone or metal structure. Victoria, go with Lochlan. Avery, go with Martin.”

  “Are you going to be alright on your own?” Martin seemed worried.

  “Yeah. The owner of the castle is long dead, and I have the knight’s sword.” He snatched a torch from is loop on the wall. Victoria lit it for him.

  Letting them handle the ground and upper floors, he made his way down to the basement. The scent of dusty, old air filled his nostrils. His footsteps echoed as he walked. The wide stairs led to a round chamber. He glanced toward the armoury. It was just as they left it.

  We’ll need to get some things from here for the newcomers at some point. They couldn’t remain unarmed forever. But now wasn’t the time for that. He closed the door behind him and walked down the hallway, checking each room. Some of them were small storage rooms, others were either empty and unfurnished, or simply unfinished.

  He went down one more floor. The dungeon, now empty, smelled of moss and mould. The air was thick and dusty. The metal bars caught the torchlight, and shadows danced to whims of the flames. Even standing here at the entrance was enough to make him uneasy.

  Taking a deep breath, he took a few steps forward. The heavy metal door at the far side of the dungeons glinted with the flame of the torch. The mark on the back of his hand felt warm. Clenching his fist, he kept walking, each step bringing him closer to the door. Yet his gaze was anywhere but. He looked inside the metal cages, and through the half-open reinforced wood doors.

  Chains hung from the walls, and moss grew in the corners, thriving in the dark. He couldn’t imagine how terrified everyone must have been locked in here. At least it had only been for a few hours.

  As if that’s any consolation.

  He shook his head and forced his thoughts to the present. Where was that damn mana core the Witch was planning to create a Hallowed Ground with?

  His slow, hesitant steps finally brought him to the reinforced metal door at the other side of the dungeon.

  It’s not there.

  There was nothing but the statue of the Chthonian. Despite how messed up his memory was from the Mark of Command, he still remembered the statue clearly – it’s three-part face was practically burned into his mind. The half angelic, half demonic form that had a third part that he didn’t quite understand even now. It was the only thing in the large chamber, placed on a slightly elevated base. There was nothing else in that chamber.

  As he stood in front of the door, he clenched his fists.

  I’m just trying to justify not going in there.