The entity stirred in its sleep. It had grown used to the pleasantness of sensory perception, and the gradual build-up of memories was exquisite to its very particular palate. Processing them took quite a toll on its body, but the whole experience was akin to its first dream for beings like this.
The earliest images were vague, from when it originally awakened; a human hand, damp rocks, and foul spells. Red, tasty liquid had filled its husk and taught it satisfaction, but also craving.
It batted its imaginary eyelids, and another scenery emerged.
A man and a boy, hunting a lower life form in an ocean of green. The bigger human had let out a crazed howl and began waving his spear fearfully towards the smaller one. He pierced his throat, and the alluring ichor made the creature approach.
The male then started crying, seemingly shocked by his act, which led the entity to feel what it later identified as sadness for the first time. It was disagreeable.
It followed him to his home, where he lay silent and broken, in a nest made of straws. He was clutching a girl like a treasure he would forever protect. It was unbearable.
It thought of a way to get rid of that feeling and slowly slithered out of the shadows. The boy had died, and it was the cause of the man's distress. Thus, it mimicked his appearance and locked eyes with the big human, smiling like they always did. It was its way of showing him that the tiny human hadn't truly disappeared.
His face turned pale, but it didn't understand the meaning of that reaction. It felt satisfied - no longer irritated by the gnaw of sorrow - and simply vanished away…
The shrill sound of command echoed through its mind, forcing the entity out of its rest. As irksome as it was, it roused its hunger. Reverie only enhanced the cravings, and its master was calling for it. 'Time to feast!'
_
Screams and war cries reverberated on the lower hills as spells discolored the sky. Minerva slashed at an incoming Nightmare with her scimitar, resulting in a massive shockwave that made neither of them budge. The creature's long snout fended off the blow with no damage, then immediately launched itself forward with its powerful legs. The woman saw her opponent's elongated maw menacingly open, threatening to tear her upper body off, yet she stood her ground. In a viridescent blur, her Praes came back to clash against the Nightmare's overbite before conjuring a devastating explosion at point-blank range.
"Al Infijar!"
The monster's armored muzzle cracked as the detonation cooked its insides alive, nearly blasting it into bits. Minerva quickly went back into battle stance after slaying her foe; it was only one amongst the current dozen, and they were still coming out from everywhere.
Above her head, Aulus was flying thanks to a Conjuration spell, trying to communicate her orders to everyone else.
"Everyone, retreat and regroup! Follow Minerva's lead towards the camp! Retreat and regrou-..."
A shadow hurled itself from within one of the hills, destroying its way out and snatching Aulus' body mid-air. His bloody lower half landed near Minerva, torn and dripping.
"Damn them!"
The Nightmare burrowed into another hill without so much as slowing down, munching down on her friend's corpse. She should've expected this. They warned her, at least. The Lower Hills were unknown territory, and none knew what kind of creature they would find there.
When they first set up camp near it, they happened to stumble upon a small group of these Nightmares. Far from their mounds and in fewer numbers, they hadn't been a challenge for a group of thirty spellcasters. However, they now faced an entire colony in their preferred environment, right above their home.
Desperate screams followed another splatter of blood, and Minerva saw one of them taking off with her companion's leg, leaving him dangerously injured and vulnerable. She thrust her hand towards it, channeling Mana as she chanted:
"Ul Petra!"
Rocky spikes emerged below the Nightmare, piercing its belly and forcing it back towards the spellcaster. The creature wriggled, trying to strike her with its giant lizard-like tail. Minerva blocked the blow with her scimitar, then retracted her weapon in a fluid movement for another hit. To her surprise, her opponent tried to seize her with its massive frontal legs, mimicking a human's movement.
Unprepared, she leaped away and tried to cut one of its limbs, yet the monster reacted swiftly and evaded the hit. It then unhinged its near-indestructible jaw and prepared to tear her off as it stabilized itself on the ground.
Water suddenly erupted from behind the Nightmare, coiling around its massive body and covering its pitch black scales. After paralyzing it, the fluid immediately entered its body through the still open mouth as the injured spellcaster behind chanted:
"Ul Spiculae!"
He clenched his fist, and liquid spears skewered the creature from the inside while it bellowed one last cry. That spell consumed much of his precious Mana, which exacerbated the pain from his injury. He was losing a lot of blood, yet he never felt so alive, fighting like the Numidean warriors his parents used to sing him about.
"Cato, you alright? I'll carry you, hold on-..."
Multiple monsters crashed onto Cato like boulders before she could even move, his screams echoing through the battlefield as they devoured him alive. Minerva cursed her lack of speed, gorging her Praes with enough Mana to destroy half of the Lower Hills. She was about to launch her attack when another Nightmare rammed into her from behind. It shattered part of her armor and sent her crashing into a rock formation.
Pain shot through her upper limbs, but she endured it and raised her weapon towards the incoming assault. The same monster followed with another destructive blow, blasting her away with its tail. The hit forced her further back, through the rocks and towards one of the hills. From there, countless black creatures were violently digging their way out, ready to rip her apart.
Her long hair was undone and flying in a brown fury; she barely held to consciousness as her body smashed against the earth. The taste of iron filled her mouth, strength fled from her arms, and her eyes begged to close. The call of eternal sleep was stifling her sense of danger, yet she refused to give up.
Strength was all that mattered. Minerva was never the smartest nor the most resourceful. She often lost during mock battles back in Cochlinia but was never truly beaten. Such a distinction might seem trivial, but it's what truly defined her. Strength in both mind and spirit - an immovable force that sheltered her companions' hope and crushed their fears. That was her call, the path she chose when she discovered she was a spellcaster.
True-born leaders are rare, and ones with her might are even rarer.
Minerva had vowed to free her people from that cursed land and the abhorrent entity it fed. She refused to be amongst the first to die since she needed to fight for those who couldn't. As long as a single one of her companions drew breath, she'd stand again.
Gaping, dark grey maws approached her still body in a blur, igniting the only thought remaining in her mind.
'Fight.'
She felt for her Praes, which had been blown away earlier, and it surprisingly re-appeared on her palm, metallic yet warm to the touch.
'Fight.'
The weapon gorged itself on Minerva's Mana by its own volition, like a newborn quenching its thirst for the first time. Despite that, she didn't feel herself weakening. On the contrary, strength washed over her like an awakening swash, forcing her to open her eyes fully.
Just then, the world turned green.
Viridescent Mana covered the entire hill, and the spellcaster's scimitar shone in a blinding, powerful light. It started vibrating, humming to a silent beat as if inviting Minerva to sing along with it. Whispers invaded her focused mind, and for the first time, she heard her Praes' name.
"I hereby pledge-"
White sparks adorned the greenish coils, birthing an explosion like no other. There was no roar nor debris as it had a single, precise goal: annihilation.
"... that I shall fight to lead-"
Nightmares wailed in pain as the sudden detonation disintegrated them, covering the disappearing hill in a dome of pure destruction.
"... and shall lead to protect-"
Minerva raised the Praes, her hand barely maintaining it amidst the unleashed assault. It absorbed the darkened remains of the creatures, further strengthening itself with their corrupted essence. The weapon grew heavier and restless, still wanting to slaughter.
"... No aspiration will be beneath my shelter-"
It took control of the woman's arm, forcing its way down as another viridescent wave of ravaging Mana bathed the Lower Hills, devouring the fleeing monsters in a humbling show of terror.
"... and no life will be lesser than my own-"
Yet despite the unbridled eruption of that power, none of Minerva's companions were harmed. The green fury phased through them like an inconsistent mirage, only drowning the Nightmares in its raging grasp.
"... For I am the Unmovable Sanctuary, made of shields and swords-"
It finally converged in the center of the devastated mounds, twirling and seething with the hatred of a thousand men. The creatures' carcasses were singed and forcibly dragged - fuel to the incoming, final blast.
"... Vis Millea!"
The frenzied Mana exploded again with even more strength, rising to the sky in a blinding pillar of unrestrained ruination.
__
Arshaka stood before the smokescreen as it slowly parted, his expression a rare mix of surprise and awe. Looking at the bloodied yet resplendent warrior amidst that swirl of power, he could barely recognize the pleading woman that once dirtied the Sibylline Peaks with her sinful cries. She had climbed the sacred mountains to seek help for her people, flailing her Blessed Relic in a blasphemous, loud display of arrogance. To use one's voice in the House of the Great Puppeteer is a privilege, a gift earned through a lifetime of worship. Despite that, she had further transgressed, howling and yowling as she was being subjugated.
Had it been his decision to make, he would've adorned the Wall of Scorn with her head, but the Honored Whisperers thought it wiser to listen to her request.
Perhaps they had foreseen her potential, or maybe they could smell the filth that marked her. The foul miasma of a forgotten creature nesting in that accursed village. A profane threat that no pious man could ever ignore. He was chosen to assist her - and in an attempt to cleanse the woman of her weakness, taught her a prized spell of the Sakit Urusk.
He never imagined that she would ascend to such a level, much less awaken her Blessed Relic's true power.
Arshaka had just finished purging these Nightmare's outer colonies. The initial plan was to help them set up a semi-permanent camp in preparation for a direct assault, but it seemed that they already had the necessary strength.
Indeed, there would be heavy casualties, but it was useless to try and groom previously complacent spellcasters into skilled fighters. As they were, calling them burdens would be an overestimation. He only needed Minerva to follow - her newly acquired might was more than enough to help him get rid of that damned creature, should it still be in its larva stage.
The woman suddenly collapsed, only to be caught by one of her companions before he could even move. The young man was of average build, with short light brown hair and clear green eyes, though the left one had a bloody gash running through it.
Arshaka recognized him as a rather promising spellcaster if not for his stubbornness.
"You alright, Minerva?" he gently asked as he put her arm around his shoulders, helping her up.
"Yes… I think, at least. I just feel somewhat dizzy. More importantly, how are the others?" she quickly dismissed his concerns, her eyes flickering between each one of the survivors.
The boy sadly shook his head. "Decima, Aulus, Cato, and at least seven others are dead. We have half a dozen injured, though the twins retreated in time so they'll be able to heal them." He marked a pause, seemingly taking time to mourn the lost. Tears blended with the blood on his face.
"Don't beat yourself over it; Valor. We were caught off-guard." Minerva sensed his turmoil.
"I am the scout… It's supposed to be my job to ensure that we won't be ambushed. I failed them all, and I failed you."
He gestured towards the mangled corpses, his expression full of self-loathing. She didn't seem to blame him, but that was comprehensible. Hers was the voice that called for sedition, the one who stirred Cochlinia's spellcasters and convinced them to get out of the barrier's safety. If anyone was to blame, it was her.
She turned towards the old cultist, only then noticing his presence.
"Arshaka, you came back… How did it go?"
"I managed to take down one of their outer colonies, though they are far too numerous. I fear that we've only scratched the surface. It's only a matter of time before they attack again." he lied through his teeth, his voice somewhat weak from unuse.
"How much..?"
"One day, at most. However, it's likely they'll strike at night."
"This isn't good… We must be ready by tomorrow morning then." Minerva drew her arm back from Valor, visibly regaining the strength to stand by herself.
"We're not ready, Minerva. Cassia and Cassius would have to work themselves close to death to heal everyone by then. And some can't even properly fight yet, they'd stand no chance!" the boy didn't seem to like the idea, but he could see in his leader's expression that the decision was already taken.
"The Ailegean will attack again, whether we're ready or not. Instead of waiting for them to slaughter us, we should simply advance our plans. We'll launch our assault on Cochlinia tomorrow morning, tell everyone to prepare accordingly." she brushed off Valor's protests, clenching her Blessed Relic like the treasured tool that would save them all. "Don't worry.. now, with my Praes-.. no, with Vis Millea, I'll be able to protect everyone."
Although he didn't seem entirely convinced, the young man nodded and simply went off to inform the rest. Arshaka watched him scurry off with mild amusement, gently stroking his full beard.
"That hardheadedness will kill him one day. Yet I must say the boy's fears are, in some measure, grounded. Are you confident that your newfound abilities will keep all of them from dying?" he mused, still looking at the vanishing carcasses of the slain Nightmares.
"I'm not, but that's why you're here, Arshaka. I know that your first and foremost mission is to kill the creature, but I'll be daft not to beg you to at least keep them in mind. Do that, and Cochlinia will forever be indebted to the Sakit Urusk."
"That in itself can be promised. However, there's still an unknown factor. Who were those spellcasters? They weren't unskilled, and one of them even went toe-to-toe with your Destruction spells."
"We already talked about it. Whoever they are, their interference shouldn't be much of a threat to our plans. No sane person would ever cooperate with that damned monster should they discover its true nature."
"That's where you show your naivete, little Minerva. Insanity is far too common amongst humans, and it isn't always destructive. Should you survive unscathed from this ordeal, perhaps a journey to the Northern nations of Occidia might do you good."
"If I survive, yes. But that, so far, seems like an impossible goal. I still have this ominous feeling… the absolute certainty that something will go wrong."
"A natural instinct. Our species is prone to imaginative doom if only to prepare us for the worst. Pay it no heed, for the Great Puppeteer watches over us."
They both headed back to camp, though even Arshaka could barely stifle the doubts in his mind.
He, too, felt the baleful embrace of danger looming over them.