The battle was fierce. Odarion was furiously pounding the dome that had formed around Taarum. Morgeth crawled on the ground, blood flowing from a thousand wounds, but the warrior rose again like a mountain. Arsik lay on the ground, his bones broken. Nastal entered his mind again. There was pain, unbearable pain—something Nastal couldn't even fathom. But there was also terror, as a thousand souls around them screamed in a thousand voices. It was eerie and disheartening.
"What can stand against such great evil?" Arsik asked, weeping. Nastal realized that Arsik hadn't given up the fight because of his wounds. He just wanted to buy time. He listened, he searched the wall of souls. He was looking for Maestra. A year after their violent separation, Nastal could feel Arsik's emotions, wild as a storm.
She's not here. You won't find her.
Something awakened in Arsik. Nastal had succeeded—he had sent a message to the past. Confusion flooded Nastal's mind, as his thoughts tangled with Arsik's, their feelings merging into a chaotic knot without beginning, middle, or end. Fight, Arsik.
Arsik stood up. He didn't know who was in his mind. Was it not Endorious? The spirit of rage that had once possessed him? But this voice was different.
Beside him, Morgeth had risen again. His face was pale, his body burned in places. His sword in hand, Taarum turned toward him.
"What? The Blade Guardian returns? The great black dragon? Where is your power, dragon? Let me tell you—nonexistent. Dead, like your entire generation. One dragon after another falling like flies to the spears of men. You should be ashamed. Someone dragged you from Pantheon to here, across so many dimensions, and for what? For this? The biggest joke of all!"
Morgeth looked like a wolf, his face quivering with rage. Arsik could feel that fury seeping into the warrior. A cry from Morgeth drowned out the thousand voices around them. "Afkariel!" he shouted, and with all his strength, he charged at Taarum.
Odarion was on his knees, using his sword to support himself. He was old, deeply wounded, and Nedel's blow had opened him like a fillet—there was no going back. Morgeth struck the dome with such fury that, in three blows, it shattered. On the next strike, his sword bit into bone. Taarum was taking all the warrior's strength.
Odarion lunged as well, allowing his wound to reach its final form as he gathered all his strength for one last attack. Arsik could not be left behind. With his voice choked, sobbing and boiling with rage, he screamed Maestra's name and charged at the skeletal wizard.
"She is not here, you fool," Taarum said. "You will never see her again. Not in this world, not in any other."
Arsik wept and struck furiously. The swords of his allies cut into his own flesh, but he didn't care. He had no thought of retreat. Then, suddenly, the vision came to an end.
"No!" Nastal cried. "No, no, no! What happened? How did the battle end? What happened? It can't be!"
"We can't know for sure," the Scepter interjected. Nastal turned around.
"What happened to everyone?" he asked.
"They're dead."
"All of them?"
"I believe so. The Blade Guardians, no doubt. Arsik too, I think. No one could survive something like that. Not again."
Nastal needed a moment to collect himself.
"Taarum?" he asked.
"He survived. Again, unfortunately."
"Then it's all in vain. If they failed to defeat him, then there is no hope. Who else would even dare?"
"I don't know," the Scepter admitted. "But the battle wasn't entirely in vain."
"What do you mean?"
"The attack was so fierce that Taarum's lair was shattered. Vespia was freed."
"Freed? But how?"
"We don't know. Some say Taarum escaped to a distant dimension. Others say he wanders the lands of the Crater, dressed in long red robes—a lone traveler. His purposes? Unknown."
Nastal took a deep breath. "If all this is true, then what is happening in the seas? What happened to the souls down there?"
"The souls were freed at last. The power Taarum held over Vespia has been exhausted. In this, the Blade Guardians were successful."
"The Blade Guardians and Arsik. It's incredible—the courage of a simple seafarer."
"And yet, there have been others in the past."
"And there will be more in the future," Nastal continued.
"An optimistic thought, my lord, but yes, it's quite possible."
For a moment, Nastal felt a surge of optimism.
"Now you know as much as I do about Vespia."
"The search continues. I need to know what happened to Taarum, to Arsik, and what lies on our island and in the seas. If it's not Taarum, then what? Or who?"
"It may very well be who."
Nastal frowned. "What do you mean?"
"The only power missing from the story, O Nastal—the violin demoness."
"The one who possessed Maestra? What happened to her?"
"We don't know. Nor do we know the limits of her power."
"But much of what happened is demon-related. In Ayaton and beyond. Maybe we now know what we're dealing with."
"Maybe," the Scepter agreed.
Nastal began to walk out.
"What are you going to do, Nastal?"
"I don't know," the priest admitted. "But I will find out. I need to clear my mind. There are so many thoughts in there, and not all of them are mine." He left the Scepter behind as he marched out, needing air.