The Corpseheart controller, realising the gravity of the situation, looked up at the skirmish with frustration. His little tactical deployment was turning into a rout, and the cause was the annoying commander he was supposed to capture.
He finally dispatched the last of his renegade Nulls and turned his full attention to Darian, his yellow eyes blazing with murderous intent.
"You've sealed your fate, Envoy," he hissed. He raised both hands, and the surrounding golden particles from the shattered Nulls on the ground began to swirl and coalesce, forming into jagged, crimson-colored blades of solidified Constellation energy. "Corpse Shards!"
A volley of these terrifying red blades shot toward Darian with blurring speed. Darian had no defensive skills. He dove sideways behind a massive chunk of highway debris just as the shards slammed into the concrete where he had been standing, kicking up a blinding plume of dust and debris.
This guy is an absolute powerhouse, Darian thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. He's not fighting, he's executing.
He had to get closer. He had to hit the controller with a deeper, more permanent influence.
"Compulsion of Chaos," Darian whispered, using his most potent new skill. This was a costly manoeuvre, draining a significant portion of his reserves, but it was his only chance to end the fight quickly.
This ability allowed Darian to plant a deeply rooted, subtle command into a target's subconscious, overwhelming their true intent with a single, overriding, chaotic obsession. He focused on the pale man's desire to capture him, twisting it, perverting it.
As Darian sprinted out from behind cover, the Corpseheart controller was already preparing another volley of red shards, his face contorted in a mask of fury.
"Die, Commander!" he screamed, releasing the shards.
Darian didn't evade this time. He raised his hands, focusing all his remaining Will on the man. Capture me... capture me right now... but only for yourself. Don't let anyone else have me. Defend your prize.
The Compulsion of Chaos slammed into the controller's mind, and the effect was immediate and horrifying.
The Corpseheart man's eyes glazed over. His arms dropped. He looked at Darian, not with hatred, but with a terrifying, greedy possessiveness.
"Mine," he croaked, his voice thick with unhinged desire.
He didn't fire the shards. Instead, he snapped his fingers again, sending the most chilling command of all to the remaining Nulls still struggling on the ice above.
"Protect the Commander. He is mine alone."
Up on the highway, the Nulls stopped their attack on Lisa and Isara. They turned, their empty eyes now fixed on the Swiftblade princess and her guards. Their new, chaotic objective was to protect Darian.
"What?!" Lisa screamed in disbelief as two Nulls scrambled past her Glacial Barrier and positioned themselves defensively near where Darian was fighting the controller below. "He's using the Nulls to protect you?"
The Corpseheart man, now utterly consumed by the chaotic compulsion, began walking toward Darian, his arms outstretched, his yellow eyes burning with manic obsession. He was no longer using his Constellation for offence; he was simply focused on possessing his target.
Darian backed away, horrified by the success of his own power. The man was completely insane, but still functional, still powerful, and still able to command the Nulls.
"I have to get out of here!" Darian muttered, his energy almost spent.
The controller took a stumbling step, then collapsed, convulsing on the ground, his body reacting violently to the internal conflict of his own Constellation power fighting Darian's Mayhem.
"Swiftblade is right," Isara's voice, strained and sharp, rang down from above. "The fight is over, now! The Nulls are confused, but they're still fighting us! We need to regroup!"
Darian didn't argue. He turned and sprinted toward the nearest emergency exit ramp. He glanced back once. The Corpseheart man was still twitching, but his eyes were fixed on the sky where Lisa and Isara were preparing to follow.
'I broke him,' Darian thought, a cold terror gripping him. 'But now I'm a magnet for a family of insane Null controllers.'
He knew the man wouldn't be able to fight the internal Mayhem forever. His mind would either break entirely, or he would shake off the compulsion and come back with a vengeance.
He shot a look up at Isara, who was gliding down the ice-slicked ramp toward him, casting a final, delaying shield of ice behind her.
"Let's go!" he yelled.
Just as they reached the bottom of the ramp, a second figure in a black coat stepped out of the shadows, blocking their escape route. This figure was shorter, older, and radiating a profound, heavy aura of power that made Darian's Constellation energy shrink back in fear.
"You're not going anywhere, Commander," the elderly woman said, her voice dry and brittle as parchment. Her hands were thin and skeletal, and her eyes were not yellow, but a solid, ancient black. "And I do believe that boy of mine has made a rather large mess of things."
Darian and Isara skidded to a halt, trapped. Lisa and her guards were still several hundred yards behind, scrambling to clear the last of the confused Nulls.
The Corpseheart matriarch smiled, a chillingly empty gesture. "But don't worry, child. We simply wanted a piece of the Myth Guild. Now, we shall have the whole thing."
The presence of the second Corpseheart member, the elderly woman with the terrifying, ancient black eyes, sucked all the air and light out of the ruined underpass. She didn't possess the frantic, volatile energy of the first controller; her power was a deep, smothering cold, the kind that came from generations of service and total command. Lisa's eyes narrowed the moment she saw the woman's lapel pin, a small silver-and-bone carving.
"Elder Corpseheart," Lisa stated, her voice tight, the title dropping heavily into the silence. Her usual bravado was strained, replaced by a tense respect. "Interfering with a Swiftblade envoy is a serious breach of protocol."
The elder, her face a web of fine, deep lines, offered a dry, humourless smile. "Protocol, Princess? Protocol went out the window when the stars fell. Besides, you are not truly an envoy. You are a pet playing spy games. And your mission is irrelevant. What matters is the asset you delivered." Her black gaze locked onto Darian.
"Envoy of Mayhem," she murmured, the title sounding like a curse on her lips. "The Constellation of Taurus is not known for its subtlety. Its power is blunt, disruptive, and destructive. Yet, you have learned to whisper chaos into the mind. A dangerous weapon, indeed. One that belongs to my family now. The Lord will be pleased."
Isara's icy aura flared, a defiant shield against the oppressive Constellation power radiating from the old woman. "He belongs to the Myth Guild. And you won't touch him."
"Feisty," the elder acknowledged, her eyes momentarily flicking to Isara. "A promising Cryomancer. You may live, child, if you step away now. Your loyalty is admirable, but misplaced. Myth Guild is dust. Aristocrats rule. It is simply a matter of when, not if. Our Master, the Corpseheart Lord, has made certain of it."
Darian knew he couldn't reason with her. He was the target, and her power was suffocating. He had spent most of his energy breaking the first controller's mind, and he was running on fumes. But he had one last trick.
"Lisa, Isara," Darian said, his voice low and urgent. "This isn't a fight we can win. I need a diversion. One major distraction. I have an exit strategy, but it's risky."
Lisa didn't look away from the Elder. "Risky is my middle name. Tell me."
"I can take those Nulls, the ones protecting her boy," Darian explained rapidly. "But only for a few seconds. When I do, you two have to hit her with everything you have. Don't hold back. Give me a window."
"Against a Corpseheart Elder? Insane," Lisa replied, but her eyes were already alight with manic determination. "But if it buys us time to run, I'm in."
"Ready, Darian," Isara confirmed, the cold radiating from her body intensifying, forming a fine, crystalline layer of armour on her jacket.
Darian closed his eyes, drawing on the last, deep reserves of his Constellation energy. He didn't use Infectious Rage or Unstable Command. He used the ultimate expression of his power over the minds of others: a pure, forceful act of overriding will.
"Mayhem Override," Darian roared, throwing his hands out toward the six Nulls guarding the convulsing Corpseheart son.
The Nulls, already unstable from the residual psychic noise of the first confrontation, instantly snapped under the torrent of Darian's will. Their eyes, once empty, glowed with a sickening red light, the temporary mark of Darian's control.
"Attack the Elder! Attack!" Darian's mental command was absolute.
The Nulls turned instantly, a sudden, desperate shield of flesh and bone hurtling toward the Elder.
The old woman let out a sound of pure disgust. "Insolent whelp! You dare to touch what is ours!"
She didn't move. She simply raised a hand, and an invisible wall of pure, crushing force, raw Constellation power, smashed into the charging Nulls. They didn't shatter; they were instantaneously compressed, collapsing into flat, bloody husks that hit the ground without a sound, leaving behind only small, dense crimson orbs that rolled across the floor.
But the crushing force took a vital second