"Why didn't you warned me, system?" Thaddues asked.
Host, the substance was not lethal. The system only issues warnings when a threat is capable of killing you.
Thaddues scoffed under his breath. The system's logic was dry and maddening. As long as his heart was still beating, it apparently didn't care how much pain he was in. But he had no time to argue.
Down the winding corridor, the heavy gates of the keep groaned beneath a fierce barrage. Thaddues glanced toward the sky, where flashes of sickly crimson flickered through the protective ward, casting writhing shadows across Sunspear. Outside, the fanatics of the Old Gods chanted in unison, their guttural voices vibrating through his bones.
"How long will the ward hold?" he asked, following the spiderweb cracks spreading across the runic barrier overhead.
The sacrifices are putting the ward under constant strain. It will hold as long as no hostile magic is unleashed from within.
"It's enough."
Thaddues drew his wand from his sleeve and tightened his grip around it. His calculations had been wrong. He had not anticipated such desperation from the cultists. They were willing to sacrifice their own lives simply to bring the ward down.
Thaddues narrowed his eyes. Were they really trying to conquer Sunspear, or was there another reason for the attack?
With a sharp crack, Thaddues Apparated from his spot and materialized atop a tower overlooking the Shadow City. Below him, narrow streets and houses were being swallowed by flames. Panicked screams echoed between the buildings as civilians fled through streets filled with smoke, while fire leaped from roof to roof, consuming everything in its path.
Thaddues raised his wand and swept it through the air. The flames responded immediately, peeling away from the burning buildings and twisting upward like ribbons of light. He gathered them together, compressing the inferno into a brilliant sphere of white-hot fire above his palm.
Then he closed his fist.
The flames vanished, but thick smoke still choked the night sky, while fires continued to burn throughout the distant districts of the Shadow City. He pointed his wand toward the clouds.
"Imber Maxima!"
A burst of blue light shot into the sky.
The clouds opened. Rain came down in a sudden, violent torrent, drenching the city within seconds. Water crashed against the burning rooftops and stone streets, hissing as steam rose from the remaining embers.
A mile away, a hooded Blessed One looked up in disbelief. Rain streamed down his face as the flames at his fingertips died.
"Who dares?" the Blessed One growled. "Who dares interfere with the sacred fire of the Old Gods?"
The Old Mother stepped from the shadows behind him.
"It is the old hags," she rasped with a wet chuckle. "Always playing the savior."
The Blessed One turned toward her, preparing to speak, but he never got the chance. The Old Mother's hand lashed forward, and a burst of chaotic energy tore through his chest.
The spell did more than pierce him. It consumed him. His flesh shriveled, his blood evaporated, and within seconds, his body collapsed into ash and brittle bone.
The Old Mother reached into the remains and pulled out a glowing sphere of raw magic—the life force she had stolen from him. Holding the blood-red orb in her withered palm, she grinned, revealing rows of blackened teeth.
"Let's see how many of you survive this."
She hurled the orb toward the distant tower.
Host, something dangerous is approaching at high speed.
"I know," Thaddues replied dryly.
He planted his feet firmly on the ground and raised his wand.
"Protego Totalum!"
The crimson orb struck. The impact tore through the tower's stone apex with a deafening roar. Stone exploded outward in a shower of red light and golden sparks, while the shockwave rattled rooftops, tore shutters from their hinges, and sent fragments of stone and timber raining into the streets below.
Then silence fell.
Only the sound of rain remained.
From the rubble, a translucent blue shield flickered before disappearing. Thaddues stepped from the rubble, completely unharmed.
He raised his gaze toward the distance.
There she stood—an old woman wrapped in filthy robe, surrounded by an aura of decay. Thaddues' expression hardened as he realized she was no ordinary cultist.
She might be an Elder, a true conduit of the Old Gods.
Across the distance, the Old Mother tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with dark amusement.
"Oh?" Her voice carried through the quiet ruins, a hint of amusement in her tone. "A capable mage, are you? To survive that…"
The salt lamp outside the Old Mother's sanctuary flickered weakly, its orange glow struggling against the damp darkness. Vael adjusted his cloak as he approached the chamber, his fingers tightening around his wooden staff.
The orders were simple: make sure the Old Mother remained inside her chamber. The Council of Roots could not afford another disaster at her hands, especially with the Pyromancers already spreading fire through the outer settlements of Asshai.
But when Vael entered the chamber, he found only silence.
The Old Mother was gone.
The Garden of Souls remained untouched. Countless roots spread across the chamber, blooming into flowers, each one representing a living soul. Yet their keeper had disappeared.
Vael felt a cold prickle run down his spine as he turned toward the lower cloister—the sanctuary where the Blessed Ones served under Kaelen, the Old Mother's son and one of the cult's High Councilors.
He hurried through the vaulted root tunnels. The chambers were empty, with cots overturned, iron chalices scattered across the floor, and cold charcoal braziers lining the walls.
Not only the Old Mother, but the entire order under Kaelen's command had vanished.
Then Vael smelled it.
Blood.
The coppery scent mixed with hot smoke and the smell of something burned. He followed it to the Great Hall, where the heavy ironwood doors hung from their hinges, black soot spreading across the stone archway.
Vael stepped inside.
His breath caught.
The vast stone floor was covered in blood. Dozens of small bodies lay in the center of the hall.
They were the children the cult had kidnapped and raised as future novices. They had been chosen for a ritual that would expose them to the power of the Old Gods, and those who survived would become the next generation of Blessed Ones.
Vael knelt beside the outer circle and touched the cold cheek of a child he had personally brought to the sanctuary three winters earlier.
She had been sacrificed to open the gate. The ritual markings on the floor left no doubt.
Thirty minutes later, the Great Hall of the Council of Roots was filled with furious voices. Vael stood in the center of the chamber, his cloak stained with soot and his boots covered in dark red mud.
Above him sat the three Elders who ruled the Council of Roots—the ancient leaders who claimed to hear the whispers of the Old Gods.
"She took the Blessed Ones," Vael said, his voice cold and steady. "She sacrificed every child in the Great Hall. Then she used their blood to open a gate and crossed the sea with forty of our strongest brothers and sisters."
Silence followed.
Then the chamber erupted.
The Elder on the left slammed his massive fist against the stone table.
"A gate?! She used the children as fuel?"
He seized a ceremonial brazier and hurled it into the central pit. Sparks and burning coals erupted toward the ceiling.
"She slaughtered our future just to carry out her own vengeance!"
The Elder on the right rose slowly, her calm completely gone.
"The Old Gods will starve!" she hissed. "Those souls were meant for the sacred ritual. We already lost children when one of the Temple burned by unknown fire!"
The Elder in the center remained seated. Unlike the others, he did not shout. He simply stared at Vael.
"She has stolen our children and used them to reach the land of sunset."
His voice was quiet, but there was murderous intent in every word.
Malakor leaned forward.
"Follow her across the sea."
Vael lowered his head.
"Bring her back alive."
His eyes hardened.
"We will bleed her upon the Great Hearth until her screams drown out the wind. Every drop of stolen essence will be repaid."
Vael dropped to one knee.
"I will obey the command of the Great Council."
TBC
For 1 more free chapter be a free member on Patr*on!
For 15+ advance chapters.. Join me on Patr*on.
Patr*on.com/Rabbinwriter.
Be a Chapter Seeker!
Be a Chronicle Reader!
Be a Lore Archivist!
Or buy me a coffee ~~~
NEXT CHAPTER 50 PS!