The flames roared with relentless fury, devouring the House of Pearl as smoke and embers filled the air. The heat pressed against Vince's back as he followed the others into the front foyer. The room was a charred and chaotic mess, the floor littered with bodies of guards and intruders alike. Three of Rorik's men were there, scavenging through the corpses. One of them looked up, his eyes widening as he took in the battered and bloodied group now standing before him.
"Fuck this," the man muttered, stepping back. His words were echoed by another as all three dropped whatever they had been holding and bolted toward the front door.
Gallen and Kalahan led the group out into the street, their steps purposeful but strained. In the distance, the shrill ring of the city watch's warning bells finally began to pierce through the night air. The sound was late but welcome.
"About bloody time," Gallen muttered, casting a glance toward Baron Aldric. "It would be prudent, sir, if we moved quickly to regroup with your forces."
"I agree," Aldric said, nodding sharply. His face was a mask, but his eyes betrayed him revealing his worry.
Above them, the sky lit with bursts of fire and shadow as the two mages clashed in the air. Their spells cracked like thunder, and the distant booming of explosions sent tremors through the cobblestone streets. The chaos above reflected the turmoil below, the Pearl was caught in the grip of destruction.
Kalahan turned to the group, his usual smirk playing across his face. "You gents seem none the worse for wear. Guess this is my cue to head out."
With a mocking bow and a theatrical flourish of his daggers, the head of the Thieves' Guild disappeared into the shadows, his parting laughter faint against the rising din.
As Vince caught his breath, he glanced around the group, his stomach tightening as he realized someone was missing. He turned to Gallen, his heart pounding. "Gallen… where is Lira?"
Gallen paused mid-stride, the question striking him like a physical blow. His usual confidence faltered, and he couldn't meet Vince's gaze. "She's gone, lad," he said finally, his voice quiet and heavy. "We'll have time to…"
But Vince didn't wait for him to finish. Without another word, he spun on his heel and sprinted back toward the Pearl's entrance, ignoring Gallen's shout behind him.
"There's no one left, lad!" Gallen yelled. But Vince didn't hear; or didn't want to.
The courtyard was a grim reminder of the carnage, bodies strewn across the flagstones like broken dolls. Vince's eyes darted desperately, searching for any sign of life. None of the bodies stirred. His breath hitched, but he didn't stop. He took the stairs two at a time, ignoring the burning pain in his limbs and the wounds that screamed in protest with every movement.
The halls of the Pearl were worse. Blood pooled around the crumpled forms of staff and courtesans; people who had been his family. Vince's chest tightened, the weight of his grief pressing down with every lifeless face he passed. Tears welled in his eyes, but he pushed forward, his desperation driving him toward the VIP room.
When he reached the threshold, the devastation froze him in place. The wall nearest the courtyard was blown out, flames licking hungrily at the edges of the destruction. The table that had once been the centerpiece of the room was smashed to splinters, its contents scattered across the floor.
And there, against the far wall, was Lira.
She was slumped against the stone, her body pierced by multiple rune-etched blades. The faint trickle of blood from her smiling lips painted a final, haunting image of defiance. Around her feet lay the shattered remains of several greater undead, their corpses riddled with large needles.
Vince approached her slowly, his vision blurred with tears. He knelt beside her, his voice a whisper. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice cracking as he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
He rose, his face drained of emotion as a single tear traced its way down his cheek. The weight of loss settled heavily on his shoulders, but he forced himself to move. There were still people who might need him. He had to keep searching.
As Vince entered the living quarters, a familiar hallway stretched before him. His steps faltered when he spotted a figure lying prone in the middle of the corridor, a spilled dish of food beside her. His heart sank as he approached and recognized Jessa: the kind, maternal presence who had always looked after him.
"Jessa," he whispered, his throat tightening. He knelt beside her, his hand trembling as he touched her shoulder. She didn't respond. Her chest was still, her face peaceful in death.
"You deserved better," he said softly, his voice thick with grief.
A faint thud from further down the hall snapped him back to attention. Vince rose, his sword leaving its sheath in a fluid motion as he moved toward the sound. The noise came from his room. The door was ajar, its edge splintered as if forced open. Vince nudged it wider with the tip of his sword and stepped inside.
"I knew you would come for me," a weak voice greeted him.
Mira lay on the floor, her breathing shallow and labored. Blood seeped from a wound in her chest, staining the fabric of her dress. At the foot of his bed lay the body of one of Rorik's men, a jagged slash across his throat.
"Mira!" Vince exclaimed, dropping to his knees and gathering her into his arms.
She let out a small, breathless laugh as he held her. "Always so dramatic, Vince," she said, her voice trembling.
"You'll be fine," Vince said quickly, grabbing an old shirt from his bed and pressing it against her wound. "I'll stop the bleeding. You'll be fine." He repeated.
Mira's smile widened faintly. "Oh, Vince… it pierced my lung. It's… getting hard to breathe."
"Don't say that," Vince pleaded, his voice breaking. "What do I do? Just tell me what to do!"
With the last of her strength, Mira lifted a hand to his face, pulling him close. Her lips met his in a tender kiss, her touch soft but full of unspoken emotion. When she pulled back, her smile remained, even as her eyes grew distant.
"What I've always wanted to do," she whispered. Her head lolled back, her body growing limp in his arms.
"Mira!" Vince screamed, holding her tightly. His tears fell freely, mixing with the blood on his hands. "Please, no! Mira, stay with me!"
He rocked back and forth, his voice hoarse as he cried out into the burning silence of the Pearl. "Help! Please, someone help! I don't know what to do!" His desperate pleas echoed through the empty, smoke-filled halls, unanswered. The flames outside crept closer, but Vince held Mira's body as if letting go would break him entirely.
The night sky above Maze City was ablaze with magic flame. Kaelith Verdannis, hovered with fiery wings spread wide, their radiant glow pushing back the surrounding darkness. In his hand, he held a staff crowned with gleaming red gems that pulsed like molten embers. The gems glowed brighter as he channeled his power, arcs of flame swirling around him in a fiery tempest.
"Enough of your games, Christelen!" Kaelith's voice boomed. With a sharp motion, he raised his staff, sending streaks of fire lancing toward the necromancer.
Christelen, shrouded in writhing shadows, let out a dry, rasping laugh. His body melted into the darkness just as the fiery bolts streaked past, striking a nearby rooftop and igniting the tiles. A moment later, Christelen reappeared, his figure half-formed in the shadows atop another perch.
"You'll have to do better than that, Tower Master," he taunted, his voice an unsettling chorus of whispers.
Kaelith narrowed his eyes, his jaw tightening. "I intend to." With a deliberate sweep of his staff, he summoned a wave of fire that surged outward like a living tide, the heat rippling visibly through the air. The flames tore through the rooftop, sending debris tumbling into the streets below.
Christelen hissed as he darted to the side, his shadows flickering like smoke in the wake of Kaelith's attack. He barely evaded the searing flames, and the edges of his tattered robes caught fire. Quickly, he extinguished them with a flick of his hand, his skeletal fingers twitching in frustration.
Raising one clawed hand, Christelen began muttering an incantation, his words low and guttural. The air shimmered with dark energy, and grotesque flying creatures emerged from the shadows. They were monstrous abominations; stitched-together horrors of bone, flesh, and wings, their glowing blue eyes burning with hunger. With a collective screech, they swarmed toward Kaelith, their sharp claws glinting in the firelight.
Kaelith stood his ground, spinning his staff in a wide arc. A blazing shield erupted around him, a dome of fire that incinerated the first wave of undead as they collided with it. He thrust his staff forward, and a fiery beam shot forth, slicing through the remaining creatures with surgical precision. The burning remains fell to the streets below, reduced to ash and charred fragments.
Kaelith didn't wait for Christelen to summon another wave. He surged forward, his fiery wings propelling him with incredible speed. Trails of fire followed in his wake as he closed the distance between them. Christelen shifted his position; his shadowy form slipping through the cracks of reality itself, reappearing just out of reach on a nearby spire.
"You're persistent," Christelen sneered, his hollow voice laced with mockery.
Kaelith ignored the taunt, focusing instead on his surroundings. Flames burned brighter along the head of his staff: the red gems casting a deadly light. He sent several orbs of fire into the air around him, illuminating the rooftops and alleys below. As the fiery spheres hovered and pulsed, the shadows fled, leaving Christelen fewer places to hide.
Hissing in irritation, Christelen summoned tendrils of shadow from the depths of an alleyway. The dark tendrils lashed upward, snaking through the air to ensnare Kaelith. He responded instantly, flaring his wings and shooting skyward, the tendrils snapping shut on empty air.
Christelen retreated to another perch, his frustration evident in the sharpness of his movements. "You're strong, old man, but brute force won't win this fight," he called, his tone a mix of mockery and unease.
Kaelith gritted his teeth, his expression hardening. "Brute force? Is that what you think this is?" He spun his staff in a practiced motion, and a torrent of flame burst forth, arching toward Christelen's new position.
The necromancer dove into the shadows, his form dissipating like smoke. The flames struck the spire, shattering the stone and sending shards raining down. Christelen reappeared on a nearby rooftop, his voice rising in a grating cackle.
"You'll have to try harder if you want to catch me," he jeered, his tone laced with cruel amusement.
Kaelith's grip tightened on his staff, the red gems pulsing in sync with his growing frustration. "You can't run forever." he muttered under his breath.
Kaelith's superior power was clear. Every fiery spell he cast burned with power and devastating force, but Christelen's shadow magic made him slippery and difficult to pin down. The necromancer continued to summon undead creatures to harry Kaelith; and while they were no match for the Tower Master's flames, their presence slowed him just enough to keep Christelen one step ahead.
Kaelith finally cornered him, trapping him within a cage of fire. The glowing bars pulsed with intense heat, the runes along Kaelith's staff glowing brighter as he prepared to finish the battle.
But Christelen smirked, his form flickering unnaturally. "Did you think it would be that easy?" he asked.
Before Kaelith could strike, Christelen dissolved into shadows once more, slipping between the fiery bars with a liquid-like motion. He reappeared a safe distance away, his laughter echoing through the night as dark tendrils coiled protectively around him.
Christelen summoned a swarm of his stitched-together abominations to cover his retreat, their shrieks filling the air as they lunged toward Kaelith. The Tower Master incinerated them with a massive sweep of fire, but the effort left him open for just a moment. By the time the last of the undead fell, Christelen had vanished into the shadows.
Kaelith hovered in place, his fiery wings dimming slightly as he scanned the city below, his staff glowing faintly in the aftermath of his spells. "Coward," he muttered, his voice heavy with frustration. "I will find you!"
The battle was over, but Kaelith's anger burned as brightly as his flames. He descended toward the remnants of the Pearl, his mind already calculating his next move. This isn't over, he vowed silently, his grip tightening on his staff. Not by a long shot
Hovering above the smoldering ruins of the Pearl, Kaelith surveyed the destruction below with grim resolve. The battle with Christelen had set parts of Maze ablaze: the fire spreading through the city's rooftops and streets like a creeping inferno. While the necromancer had escaped into the shadows, Kaelith wasn't about to let the night end in chaos.
He adjusted his grip on his staff, its embedded red gems glowing with molten intensity. His fiery wings flared wide, their radiance illuminating the burning city. With a deep breath, Kaelith raised his staff high above his head, the runes along its length sparking to life.
"Enough!" His voice thundered through the city.
The fires licking through the ruins of the Pearl flickered as if they had heard him. The flames that had consumed the upper floors suddenly bent toward Kaelith, their chaotic dance shifting into a smooth, spiraling motion. Smoke curled in thick tendrils, drawn toward him like moths to a flame.
Kaelith closed his eyes and focused, the gems in his staff pulsing with an otherworldly light. The flames from the Pearl surged upward, coalescing into streams of molten energy that wrapped around the Tower Master like serpents. The intensity of the heat was overwhelming, but Kaelith absorbed it with practiced ease, the fire feeding into the blazing aura around him.
Beyond the Pearl, the infernos raging through the nearby rooftops and alleys began to shift. Fires leapt from buildings, their embers streaking through the air like shooting stars. Even the smallest flickers of flame in distant corners of the city rose to join the torrent.
Kaelith's form was wreathed in the combined power of the city's flames, his fiery wings now immense and blindingly bright. The red gems on his staff pulsed like a heartbeat, and arcs of heat radiated outward, distorting the air around him. His face was calm but stern, his brow furrowed with concentration as he controlled the immense energy surging through him.
The fires roared in unison, their deafening cacophony blending into a singular hum of raw power. To the people below, Kaelith appeared as a godlike figure, his light casting long shadows over the streets of Maze.
With a final gesture, Kaelith thrust his staff downward, and the gathered flames obeyed. The spiraling fire dissipated into a single burst of heatless light, leaving the Pearl's ruins and the rest of the city smoldering but no longer burning. Smoke hung heavy in the air, but no flames remained.
Kaelith descended slowly to the ground, his fiery wings retracting into faint embers that danced around him. He planted his staff into the charred earth, the red gems now dim but still warm. Around him, the survivors of the Pearl and the city guards approached cautiously, their expressions a mix of awe and trepidation.
Gallen, bloodied but standing tall, stepped forward. "Impressive as always, Tower Master," he said, though his tone carried a hint of dry humor. "But I take it the bastard got away?"
Kaelith nodded, his expression grim. "For now. But that bastard's arrogance will be his undoing. Necromancers like him never know when to stop."
Gallen grunted. "Let's hope you're right. The city can't take another night like this."
With a sigh, Gallen turned to look at the Baron, who stood stoic despite the night's attack. His daughter, Lisa, clung to his leg, her face pale and streaked with soot. The Baron placed a steadying hand on her head, his own composure seemed to reassure her.
"If you could look after the Baron, please, Tower Master," Gallen said, his tone weary but firm. He sheathed his sword with a deliberate motion and rolled his shoulder, the strain of the night's battle evident. "I have someone to go fetch."
Kaelith gave a curt nod, leaning slightly on his staff his expression was unreadable. "I'll ensure their safety," he replied, his voice calm. "Find your boy."
Gallen gave the Tower Master a brief look of gratitude before turning and heading toward the smoldering remains of the Pearl. The scent of charred wood and ash filled his nose as he entered what had once been the grand entrance. Embers glowed faintly in the rubble, casting an eerie light over the devastation.
The silence inside the Pearl was oppressive, broken only by the faint crackle of dying flames. Gallen moved with careful steps, his boots crunching over shattered glass and splintered wood. His sharp eyes scanned the ruins, his expression grim as he passed the lifeless forms of guards and staff. He muttered a quiet prayer under his breath, but his focus never wavered.
"Vince?" he called out, his deep voice echoing through the empty halls. There was no reply, only the mournful groan of the collapsing building.
Gallen pressed onward, his steps purposeful despite the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. He climbed the grand staircase, now sagging under its own weight, and moved toward the living quarters. He knew where Vince would go. The boy wasn't one to leave the people he cared about behind, even if it meant running headfirst into danger.
When Gallen reached Vince's room, the door was open. He looked in, his heart sinking at the sight before him.
Vince was curled on the floor, cradling Mira's lifeless body in his arms. His face was streaked with soot and tears, his cheeks pale beneath the grime. Mira's bloodied form rested against his chest, her face serene even in death. The stillness in the room was suffocating.
"Lad…" Gallen said softly, stepping into the room.
Vince didn't respond. His body was limp, his head resting against Mira's shoulder as though he were trying to keep her warm. Gallen's heart clenched at the sight. The boy's sword lay discarded on the floor beside him, the blade stained with blood and ash.
Gallen crouched beside Vince, his rough hand gently shaking the boy's shoulder. "Vince," he said, his voice firmer this time.
Vince stirred slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. His gaze was unfocused at first, but when he saw Gallen, tears welled in his eyes once more. "She's gone," Vince whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "I couldn't save her."
Gallen placed a steadying hand on Vince's back, his touch firm but comforting. "You did everything you could, lad. This wasn't your fault."
Vince shook his head, his body trembling as fresh sobs wracked him. "She waited for me," he choked out. "And I couldn't… I couldn't do anything for her."
Gallen's jaw tightened, but he didn't press the boy further. Instead, he gently pulled Vince away from Mira's body, his movements careful but insistent. "We need to go," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "This place isn't safe anymore."
Vince resisted for a moment, his arms clinging to Mira's form. But Gallen's steady grip didn't waver; and eventually, the boy let go, his hands falling to his sides as he let himself be lifted to his feet. His legs wobbled beneath him, but Gallen held him steady.
Gallen cast one last glance at Mira's body, a faint grimace flickering across his face. He adjusted Vince's arm over his shoulder and began guiding him out of the room, their steps slow and heavy. The building groaned ominously as they made their way back through the charred halls, but Gallen's focus remained fixed on the boy beside him.
By the time they emerged into the street, Vince's head was bowed, his face streaked with fresh tears. The Baron, Lisa, and Kaelith turned toward them as they approached. Lisa's eyes widened, and she took a hesitant step forward; but Gallen shook his head slightly, stopping her in her tracks.
Kaelith's gaze softened as he regarded Vince. "The boy's been through hell," the Tower Master said quietly. "He'll need time."
"We all will," Gallen replied, his voice low and tired. He guided Vince to a nearby cart, where the boy slumped against the edge; his exhaustion finally overtaking him.
Baron Aldric stepped forward, his broad frame imposing but softened by the look of concern in his eyes. His daughter Lisa still clung to his side, her gaze darting between Vince and the smoldering remains of the Pearl. The Baron looked at Gallen; his voice low and measured.
"You've done more than enough tonight," Aldric said, his words heavy with respect. "Both of you have. Come with us to the keep. It's fortified, safe, and far from this… carnage. You can rest there, gather your strength."
Gallen straightened slightly, his tired eyes meeting the Baron's. "Generous offer, Baron, but we're not exactly nobility. I wouldn't want to impose."
"Nonsense," Aldric replied, his tone brooking no argument. "You've earned that much, and more. The city owes you both a great debt, whether they realize it or not. My keep is open to you."
Gallen hesitated, glancing at Vince. The boy remained slumped over: his head hanging low. Lisa stepped forward tentatively, her small hand reaching out to touch Vince's arm.
"You should come with us," she said gently. "It's safe there. My father will make sure of it."
Aldric gave a sharp nod. "Then it's settled. My carriage is waiting nearby. We'll leave immediately." He turned to Kaelith, who stood silently nearby, his expression inscrutable. "Will you join us, Tower Master?"
Kaelith shook his head, his staff pulsing faintly with residual heat. "Not tonight, Baron. I have matters to attend to in the city. But rest assured, I'll be in contact. This isn't over." He cast a final glance at Vince, his fiery eyes softening.
The Baron gave a respectful nod. "Very well. Thank you for your aid, Master Verdannis. We'll regroup when the city is secure."
Gallen helped Vince to his feet, guiding him toward the Baron's waiting carriage. Lisa climbed in first, offering a hand to Vince, who took it hesitantly. Gallen followed close behind, his movements heavy with fatigue.
The Baron spoke briefly with his remaining guard; instructing him to ride ahead to the keep and alert the staff. Once the orders were given, Aldric joined the others in the carriage.
As the carriage began to move, the city's distant bells continued to toll, their mournful sound a reminder of the destruction left behind. Vince leaned back against the cushioned seat, his grief and exhaustion overtaking him. His let his head dip forward, and allowed himself close his eyes.