A wall composed of thousands of souls rose from under the ground, protecting Seraphine from the rain of curved sickles. A conglomeration of dark matter collided with the impenetrable barrier and disintegrated into millions of particles.
Microscopic particles, surrounded by a fading glow, floated scattered in the air.
The wailing of anguished souls filled the empty space... it could just as well be regarded as shouts of joy originating in the long-coveted freedom.
There are many interpretations, but one thing is certain: once you have tasted freedom, you will always try to break the leash.
" Ugh... "
The necromancer fell to one knee. Her bony legs shook with exertion. The flames that once danced merrily in empty eye sockets became cloudy and tired.
They had lost their charm, and with it, the aura they had spread around them was gone.
To survive, she used up more than 60% of her mana and 70% of her reserve of doggies or souls as she prefers. Seraphine didn't see much difference between the two.
The battle became a painful thorn in the necromancer's searing wound. The longer it went on, the more she lost, and the scales of victory tipped inexorably toward the blood-thirsty monsters.
Part of her was angry at Ramiel. He had left everything on her shoulders and was most likely having fun watching the whole thing from somewhere hidden...
Wait a minute...
The preternatural steam machine called Seraphine's mind was set in motion, setting a flock of raging thoughts in motion. Only now did she point out one very important thing.
Ramiel would never knowingly allow his women to stand face-to-face with the grim reaper. He had watched over them from the shadows, even during their independent expeditions.
But now? Asme was choking on her blood... Caera had lost one hand, and only God knows what else could have happened to her.
The man's behavior didn't match what he presented on a daily basis. The sudden change from the day of a caring and loving husband to a callous and brutal one who bullies women daily for his pleasure sounded absurd.
Even taking into account the personality changes resulting from the disintegration of the soul, such a sudden and chaotic transformation is unrealistic.
This narrows the circle of suspicion to only two possibilities.
Ramiel died, which seems unlikely. His ability to cling to life exceeds Avi's ability to sleep on his head.
Seraphine literally saw him as an annoying cockroach, laughing brazenly at the poor assassination attempts on his person.
In that case... he is again faced with a problem beyond his abilities.
If there were a magnet that attracts everything bad, its name would be Ramiel. Trouble has befriended him since he was four years old, but that is a story for another time.
Seraphine clenched her jaws tighter. The gravity of the current situation hit her harder than the hard ground of a suicide jumping from the twentieth floor.
All along, she had been deluding that Ramiel would jump out of the corner like a rabbit out of a magician's hat...
But why???
The necromancer couldn't fathom why she believed in something so absurd despite the contradictory signals she received from the world.
The moment of sobriety should come when the magical formation is broken... For God's sake, he even sent the remains of his weapon here. If that doesn't sound like an obvious warning, the narrator doesn't know what it could be.
So it's like this... The only logical solution appeared in Seraphine's mind.
She has fallen victim to a spell that impairs the thought process. If this is the case, they don't have the slightest chance of victory, not without Ramiel.
The question is, when did it happen?
Before I started fighting them? No... that's not it... Maybe when we separated from Ramiel. A spell on a large scale? No... it looks to me more like a magical formation or the influence of a plant. Spores, fungi?
There are an infinite number of potential combinations, but Seraphine wasn't given to consider them indefinitely. As she plunged into an avalanche of thoughts, the figure of a cat as black as night flashed past the wall of howling souls.
The impatient Night Terror snuck unnoticed past the barrier from which her hair stood on end.
His gaze, filled with deadly intent, fixed on the kneeling figure of Seraphine. The pupils contracted, and the irises took on a shade of scarlet. With the eyes of his imagination, he saw the petite skeleton break like icicles of ice.
Its tails formed a position to make a clean cut that would free the necromancer from the burden called life. He could almost taste the sweetness of triumph.
Once the last warrior fell, the rest would pose no threat.
Their ruler's magical formation covering the inner ring of the forest worked perfectly. Under the spell's influence, the target's thought process slowed down, and their common sense diminished with each passing hour.
Victims become more impulsive, and their defenses to any external stimuli weaken. In exceptional cases, they lose their sanity, falling into the abyss of madness.
Unfortunately, such a powerful spell was subject to hurtful restrictions. It could only take one target at a time. Otherwise, the magical formation would collapse along with most of the forest.
At the command of the executioner lurking in the shadows, two tails pierced the air and flew toward the kneeling figure.
The corners of The Night Terror's mouth lifted subtly in a mocking smile.
The death of the piece of bone that was affecting the nerves of his superiors was inevitable.
His thoughts were already revolving around the reward he would receive in exchange for getting rid of the problem. The leader of a pack is usually generous. He rewards for results and punishes sternly for mistakes made.
He uses the carrot-and-stick tactic, which has apparently proven to be extremely effective.
Maybe luck will be with him, and he will get priority during a future mating season. Or, it will be something better. He nearly peed himself with happiness.
Sensing inevitable doom, Seraphine's senses did their best to snap her out of her ongoing lethargy. When they succeeded, it was too late to do anything.
The necromancer desperately tried to stop the two blades shrouded in darkness. Under her command, dozens of souls left the eternal prison.
Their joyous moments didn't last long. It only took a fraction of a second for them to transform into a thick, rotten green fog, greatly reducing the kinetic energy of objects in its range.
Although the spell carried no destructive force, it was one of the strongest in Seraphine's current arsenal. It interfered with the undeniable laws of the universe, bending them at will.
As with magical formation, it carried a cost. If the necromancer manages to survive, she will not move from her bed for the next two months.
The slightest movement would trigger a series of anxiety attacks, combined with the pain of having her skin ripped off while she was still alive.
Seraphine had no time to think about the possible consequences of her actions. At this point, all that mattered was survival and obeying Ramiel's command. Otherwise, a gruesome death would await her anyway.
Given the nature of the man and the pact binding her to him, it will be extremely painful. A cold shiver runs along her back at the thought.
Rapture
The necromancer's teeth rubbed together angrily, causing a piercing screech, and her fists clenched in a gesture of helplessness.
The image of the approaching specter of doom was magnified in the rotten blue flames. No matter how hard she tried, she was unable to stop the blade aimed at her neck.
Ba Thump - Ba Thump
The ball of mana that mimicked a heart was beating like crazy inside Seraphine's chest, distributing the remnants of remaining mana inside the fragile bones.
In the face of death, time around her slowed down. Minutes seemed like years, and seconds seemed like hours.
A series of jumbled memories popped up in the necromancer's mind, mapping her previous life. Most of the images were blurred or shrouded in a dark and impenetrable fog.
The silhouettes of individual figures blurred or shattered like broken glass, and faces were hidden by a dark curtain surrounded by a murky glow.
Seraphine was plunged into an avalanche of memories that flooded her mind with an orderly slide show.
An image replaced another image, and so on and so forth. The process stopped only at a scene depicting a flowery meadow. Two women sat eating snacks they had prepared earlier in the middle of a sea of bright orange blossoms.
Between them lay a sumptuous basket containing more goodies. On a richly decorated blanket, for which a medium-sized city could be bought, stood a wine bottle on display, accompanied by two glasses.
Although one of them was empty, this didn't prevent the women from enjoying themselves. They took turns drinking from one of them.
Guarding both beauties were a host of skeletons buried deep underground. The slightest danger sign would be enough to turn a pleasant scene into a veritable inferno.
Despite the blockade imposed by Nenneke, this memory was different from the previous ones. Unlike its predecessors, the finest details could be seen on it.
In the distance, flower buds could be seen blooming on tree branches, and in the background, the sweet singing of birds echoed, making the couple's time pleasant.
Without knowing why, bloody tears appeared in the corners of Seraphine's empty eye sockets. There was an unpleasant pressure of grief in her chest.
It seemed as if the flames replacing her eyes were filled with bitter bitterness combined with an agonizing sense of guilt.
The necromancer shuddered as the woman's fingertips brushed across her cheek. For a brief, fleeting moment, she felt the warm touch of a hand on her bony face. She could have sworn by all the known gods of the world that she felt the presence of another person with her.
Seraphine lost her orientation. She couldn't separate what belonged to reality and what should forever be buried in the depths of the past.
Memory merged with the present moment, blurring the lines between waking life and real life.
She no longer cared what was happening outside. All she wanted was to stay here forever.
The necromancer wholeheartedly wanted to throw herself into the woman's arms and lock her in a tender embrace, but she was stopped by the same person who stirred such extreme emotions in her.
Before she could do anything, her way was blocked by the hand of a woman whose skin shone like crystal in the subtle light of the sun.
" You can't do this... not yet... "
Seraphine tried to protest, but her voice caught in her throat. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move from her seat. There was nothing left for her to do but play the role of passive observer.
The woman sighed heavily, her blurry face hidden beneath waves of golden hair. She took Seraphine's bony fingers in her trembling hands.
If he could have seen her face, he would have seen the hesitation and uncertainty painted in her eyes. The tiny pale pink lips, resembling buds of blooming roses, curved in a grimace of resignation.
" Sera... it's not your time yet... " A quiet whisper tore through the barriers of the universe, reaching Seraphine's troubled soul. Like Asme's singing, it had a soothing effect on her. It could be compared to a lullaby sung to newborns to make their safe journey to dreamland.
" I... promise that we will meet again... but for now... " The woman was beating herself up with thoughts. Her voice was breaking with each passing second.
" But for now, focus to help him... stop doing what you are doing... if you lose his trust once, you will lose it forever. "
The world surrounding Seraphine was self-destructing, falling apart piece by piece. An impenetrable void replaced a previously lush meadow full of flowers. In place of the pleasant melody played by the birds, there was an irritating swish reminiscent of the sound of wind on top of a skyscraper.
The omnipresent darkness slowly engulfed the figure of the golden-haired woman. It was relentless in its actions. Meticulously, millimeter by millimeter, it devoured the defenseless being.
Seraphine felt hopeless. A sudden despondency filled her heart. The role of the passive observer was the worst thing that had happened to her so far. The powerlessness associated with being unable to intervene in the tangled threads of fate had never struck her as much as it did now.
Although she didn't know the woman before her, she knew subconsciously that she was someone important to her... someone... for whom she would sacrifice her entire life in the universe.
" Remember Sera... I will always be waiting for you in... "
The woman wasn't allowed to finish. Before she did, hundreds of chains leaped out of the darkness, blocking her mouth.
The universe rebelled, interfering with the conversation between Seraphine and the mysterious stranger. There was really very little missing, and secrets that should have been buried along with the grim past would have come to light.
Angry chains grated aggressively on the remains of the woman's body, dragging her deeper and deeper into the impenetrable darkness. It was over for the necromancer, but for the woman... the nightmare had just begun.
She cast one last glance in Seraphine's direction before the darkness engulfed her.
~~~~~~
Somewhere in the universe, two people were sitting across from each other. Between them stood a chessboard on which the figures prepared for a fierce war.
" Pawn on E4 ~ "
A melodious voice mixed with a wild gust of wind disturbed the prevailing silence between the four mountain peaks surrounding them.
The figure representing the lowest-ranking soldier moved forward, destroying the surrounding landscape. Trees bowed under the feet of the thirty-foot giant, and rivers poured out of their beds.
" Horse to F6 "
The earth shook, and a chariot harnessed to eight ten-meter horses fell from the sky. Their hooves struck the air furiously, creating hundreds of sparks that burned the space. Their proud stance was accentuated by dancing flames smeared by the wind around them.