Twelve mages—each one a master of their craft, each bearing the insignia of the emperor's personal guard.
The moment they appeared, the battlefield changed.
Blades of wind cut down incoming thralls before they could reach the inner defenses. Spears of fire rained from the sky, incinerating whole clusters of corrupted beasts. Walls of shimmering ice rose to block the encroaching tide of black ooze, while golden wards flared to protect retreating civilians.
Rowan, halfway through dragging a wounded soldier toward safety, stopped in stunned awe. "By the gods…" he whispered.
The Twelve Pillars of Astoria—the most powerful battlemages in the empire—had come to Crestwood.
The monster roared in defiance, its entire bulk convulsing as it lashed out at the newcomers. Lira's hands moved in precise, lightning-fast gestures, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"Formation Seraphim!"
The twelve mages moved as one. Sigils flared beneath their feet, linking together in a vast, glowing pattern that covered the entire square.
Valerius wrenched his sword free and leapt backward just as the formation locked into place. His breath was ragged, his armor scorched and cracked, but his eyes blazed with renewed determination.
The monster struck, a mass of claws and teeth descending like an avalanche.
Lira's voice rang out like a war horn: "Bind!"
Chains of pure magic erupted from the sigils, snapping tight around the creature's limbs. It thrashed wildly, black ooze spraying in all directions, but the bindings held firm under the combined will of twelve masters.
"Now!" Valerius roared.
The mages shifted their focus instantly. Beams of elemental magic converged on the monster from every angle—flame, lightning, frost, and light merging into a single catastrophic strike. The creature's scream shook the entire district, a sound of pure, unbridled rage.
As its form began to rupture under the assault, Valerius leapt forward once more, his radiant blade blazing like a miniature sun.
With one mighty swing, he severed the creature's central torso, cleaving it nearly in half. Black ichor erupted upward like a geyser, but the binding chains constricted tighter, holding the thrashing mass in place.
The emperor landed atop the writhing abomination, his voice carrying like thunder.
"This is my city. My empire," he roared. "And I will not allow Chaos to claim it!"
The Twelve Pillars raised their voices in unison, completing the final phase of their spell. The sigils beneath them blazed white-hot, and the very air seemed to ignite.
The monster's laughter faltered. Its many eyes widened in something resembling fear.
Valerius drove his blade down with all the strength left in his body.
"ASTORIA ENDURES!"
The combined magic of emperor and mages detonated in a blinding explosion of golden light, swallowing the beast whole. The shockwave flattened everything in its path—collapsing walls, shattering windows, and scattering the remnants of Chaos like ash on the wind.
When the light faded, the square was a ruin of smoldering stone and molten ooze.
Valerius staggered but remained standing, his chest heaving. Around him, the Twelve Pillars knelt briefly, their heads bowed in respect.
Rowan, still clutching his wounded soldier, stared at the emperor in awe.
A sound rose from the crater—not the ragged death-rattle of a defeated beast, but a deep, resonant roar that seemed to come from beneath the earth itself.
The molten ooze at the center of the ruin began to writhe, bubbling violently. Cracks spread across the blackened cobblestones, and a foul stench rolled out, thicker and more suffocating than before.
Valerius' head snapped toward the pit, his breath catching in his throat.
"No…" he whispered, the word barely audible.
All around the square, the remaining thralls froze mid-battle. The madness in their wide, black-streaked eyes burned hotter, as if some dark call had reached them. Then, as one, they screamed.
The sound was a single, terrible note of hunger and worship.
Before the emperor or the Twelve Pillars could react, the creatures surged forward—not to attack the defenders, but to hurl themselves bodily into the roiling mass of ooze.
Men and women with broken limbs flung themselves screaming into the pit. Wolves with shattered jaws and birds with twisted wings dove headlong into the writhing black sludge. Each body was consumed instantly, leaving behind only a flash of dissolving bone before it vanished beneath the surface.
The ooze drank them greedily, its volume swelling with every new offering.
Rowan staggered backward, his stomach churning. "Gods above," he rasped, clutching at a fallen pillar for support. "They're… feeding it!"
Lira's face remained a mask of ice, though her knuckles whitened where she gripped her staff. "Not feeding," she said grimly. "Fusing."
The bubbling pit heaved upward with a wet, grotesque sound. The molten sludge began to take shape—not the writhing, chaotic form of before, but something far more purposeful.
Long, sinewy limbs unfolded from the mass, each one plated in hardened black chitin. The ooze condensed into muscles and sinew, layer after layer snapping into place with sickening pops. A ribcage formed, jagged and sharp like a cage of knives, followed by a broad, hunched torso.
Then came the head.
The sludge pooled upward, sculpting itself into a monstrous visage—a crown of twisted horns, a maw filled with serrated teeth, and six blazing eyes burning like coals beneath a blackened brow.
Its silhouette was disturbingly humanoid now, though still wrong in a thousand ways. It stood, towering over the ruins of the square, black ichor dripping from its newly formed claws.
And when it exhaled, the air itself seemed to curdle.
Lira's formation faltered, the Twelve Pillars instinctively stepping back as their sigils dimmed beneath the weight of its presence. Even the air around the creature warped, the cobblestones beneath its feet cracking like glass.
Rowan dropped to one knee, fighting the crushing pressure that radiated outward like an unseen storm. "What… what is that thing?"
Valerius's jaw clenched. His once-golden aura flickered faintly around him, nearly drowned by the oppressive darkness of the creature's new form.
The monster opened its mouth and spoke.
The voice was no longer a chaotic chorus, but a single, unified tone—deep, guttural, and terrifyingly intelligent.
"Flesh for the form. Blood for the path. The Songweaver shall be found."
Its gaze swept across the battlefield and locked on Valerius, as though recognizing him for the first time.
"You burn bright, emperor," it rumbled, its voice shaking the remnants of buildings to their foundations. "Let me snuff you out."
With a sudden, explosive movement, it lunged.
The square erupted into chaos once more as the fused monstrosity barreled forward, moving with impossible speed for its massive frame. Its claws struck like siege weapons, tearing through the magical barriers the Twelve Pillars frantically raised.
"Defensive array, NOW!" Lira shouted, her voice like a whipcrack.
The mages scrambled into position, their sigils flaring desperately. A translucent golden dome shimmered into being over the inner line of defenders just as the monster's claw descended.
The impact was cataclysmic.
The dome shattered instantly, fragments of light scattering like dying fireflies. Several of the mages were hurled backward, slamming into walls with bone-crunching force.
Valerius was already moving. He met the beast head-on, his radiant blade slashing upward to deflect a descending claw. The strike sent a shockwave through the square, ripping nearby buildings apart.
But this time, the monster didn't so much as flinch.
It caught Valerius's blade mid-swing in one massive clawed hand. Slowly, inexorably, it began to squeeze.
The radiant weapon flickered, its golden light dimming.
Valerius's teeth bared in a snarl as he poured more power into the weapon, refusing to let it break. "Lira!" he roared. "Form up! Hit it with everything you have!"
The Twelve Pillars rallied, bloodied but unbroken. Elemental magic surged through the air—lightning lancing from the heavens, firestorms igniting across the square, blades of wind and spears of ice converging on the creature's hulking form.
The monster laughed, a deep, rolling sound that rattled the very air.
Then it spread its arms wide and absorbed the magic.
The elemental fury sank into its blackened flesh, feeding it instead of harming it. Its six burning eyes flared brighter as it swelled even larger, towering now like a walking calamity.
Valerius's breath caught. His radiant blade sputtered, and for the first time, doubt crept into his gaze.
Rowan stared in horror. "If magic won't hurt it…"
The monster leaned down, its serrated grin splitting wider.
"Then all that remains," it whispered, voice like the toll of a final bell, "is Silence."
And with a single, devastating sweep of its claws, it unleashed a wave of raw Chaos, obliterating everything in its path.
The world erupted.
The wave of raw Chaos tore through Crestwood like a living hurricane, warping the very air as it screamed forward. Buildings disintegrated into clouds of dust and splinters, their stones bending and twisting before they shattered. The cobblestones beneath Valerius's boots cracked, then melted into a churning black sludge.
"SHIELD—!" Lira's voice was lost in the roar as she thrust her hands forward, runes blazing desperately to raise a barrier. The other eleven Pillars followed suit, sigils flaring in a frantic cascade of light as they wove their power together.
A dome of golden energy surged up around them just as the Chaos wave struck.
The impact was apocalyptic.
The barrier howled, bending inward under the onslaught like thin glass. Cracks spiderwebbed through the golden surface as black tendrils of corruption pierced through, burning holes in the light. The sheer pressure blasted wind in all directions, hurling Rowan and the nearby soldiers off their feet like ragdolls.
Valerius roared, pouring every ounce of his will into reinforcing the shield. His veins glowed with white-hot runes as he drew on the ancient power only the imperial bloodline could wield.
For a heartbeat, it held.
Then the Chaos shattered it like paper.
The explosion hurled Valerius and the Twelve Pillars in every direction. Mages slammed into walls and crumbled rooftops, their bodies limp as broken dolls. Lira crashed through a collapsed bell tower, disappearing into a cloud of smoke and ash.
Valerius himself was flung across the square, his radiant blade spinning away into the wreckage. He struck the cracked flagstones with a sickening crunch, his golden armor crumpling under the force. Blood streamed from his mouth as he tried—and failed—to rise.
Rowan shielded his eyes from the blinding flare of energy, his ears ringing. When the shockwave finally passed, silence fell—a suffocating, unnatural silence that made the air feel heavy, as if the city itself was holding its breath.
Through the settling smoke, he saw it.
The monster stood untouched, towering over the ruins like a god of nightmares. Its form had changed again. Now it stood upright, more humanoid than before, though its proportions were grotesque. Smooth, black flesh glistened like obsidian, and its once-multitude of mouths had fused into a single, cavernous maw lined with shifting teeth. A crown-like structure of bone jutted from its head, and veins of glowing crimson light pulsed beneath its skin.
At its feet, tendrils of black ooze reached out across the broken square, slithering through the streets like living things. Every corrupted thrall, every twisted beast, every drop of Chaos-born flesh within range surged toward it.
Rowan's breath caught.
"No… no, no, no—"
The world was still burning.
Through the haze of smoke and ash, a low, grinding sound broke the unnatural silence—the sound of scraping rubble and shattered stone shifting under weight. Rowan turned toward it, his heart lurching.
From the wreckage at the far end of the square, Emperor Valerius emerged.
He limped forward on a broken leg, his golden armor dented and blackened, the once-proud crest of Astoria barely visible beneath layers of soot and blood. Every step seemed to tear at him, yet his grip on his blade never wavered. His face was a mask of iron will and unyielding fury.
Rowan's throat tightened. The man should not have been standing.
Valerius stopped only a few paces from the front line, planting his sword into the cracked earth for balance. His chest heaved, breath ragged, but his voice—when it came—was still thunder.
"This… is not… over," he snarled, lifting his blade toward the towering abomination. "You will not take my empire. You will not take my people."
The monster tilted its head, almost curious, like a predator watching its prey make one final, futile stand.
Valerius shifted his stance, preparing to charge despite his shattered body. Every muscle trembled with agony, yet his aura flared once more, runes igniting faintly along his arms and throat.
And then—
A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder.
The touch was firm, steady, radiating a calm power that cut through the fear and chaos like a blade.
Valerius froze, his eyes widening as a familiar, commanding voice spoke behind him.
"Enough, my son."
Valerius turned, his breath catching.
There she stood amidst the ruin and smoke, untouched by the carnage around her—a figure draped in flowing white and silver, her presence radiant yet frightening, like the calm eye of a storm. Her silver hair fell in immaculate waves, her crown gleaming faintly with embedded runes older than the empire itself.
Grand Empress Aeloria Crestwood.
"Mother…" Valerius rasped, disbelief and relief mingling in his voice.
Aeloria's eyes—clear and sharp as polished crystal—met his, filled with a strength that seemed unshakable. She squeezed his shoulder once, a rare gesture of reassurance.
"You've done enough, Valerius," she said softly, though her words carried across the square with perfect clarity. "Rest. This battle… is mine."