The desert night pressed heavy and unyielding, swallowing all light and sound. Solena's gaze fixed on the horizon, where flashes of silver fire burst like ghostly beacons—brief, unnatural. For fleeting moments, the dunes sharpened into stark relief before fading again into shadow.
Then came the sound again. A tangled clamor—howls, crashes, and something worse—muffled but relentless, carried on the restless wind. It slithered through the darkness, alive and searching, settling unease deep into Solena's bones.
Underfoot, the sand trembled faintly, a pulse that grew stronger with each step. The wind shifted, carrying a stench that hit like a wall—decay mixed with scorched earth.
Solena froze, her heart pounding. The foul odor clawed its way into her throat. Unmistakable. Voidfiends.
Beside her, Jam tensed, his glowing eyes narrowing into slits. A low growl rumbled through him, sharp and unnatural, like stone scraping steel. He shifted closer, muscles coiled, his hackles rising as his gaze locked on the horizon. A faint, intangible thread seemed to hum between them, a wordless warning stirring in the back of her mind.
"What in the name of the Goddess is that stench?" Mezra demanded, covering her nose.
"Voidfiends," Solena choked out, her voice hoarse. "The stronger the magic, the faster they come."
"Dim the light, Moon-Blessed," Rakthor ordered, firm but measured. "You're making us a beacon."
Solena's cheeks burned, and she gritted her teeth at his sharp tone, but she nodded quickly. She gripped her staff as its light pulsed in time with her heartbeat. "It won't stop." Her breath quickened, panic building as the glow began to flare brighter despite her efforts.
Vistra's voice echoed in her mind, calm and steady, like the whisper of wind through ancient trees. Surrender to it. Magic isn't commanded—it's a conversation. Listen to it. Let it flow through you, finding its place where it is most needed.
The words lingered, a quiet plea in the chaos. Solena tried to let go, to listen as Vistra had taught her, but the magic seemed to retreat, elusive and wary. Her heart pounded as her hands trembled.
The harder she reached, the more it slipped away, as if waiting for her to release her grip entirely. A knot of panic tightened in her chest, the weight of past failures pressing against her resolve.
Her breath caught, and an image of Meila flitted through her mind unbidden. The memory of silver tendrils weaving around her friend's lifeless body chilled her in a way the desert air never could. She had saved Meila, yes—but she hadn't asked. She hadn't even considered it. Horror coiled in her chest, tightening her throat. What had she done?
Her pulse thundered as the memory burned behind her eyes, but it shifted. Necromancers, she had come to understand, honored the dead—they didn't wrench them from their rest. His actions shattered that truth, a defiance of balance she couldn't allow to stand. Her jaw set, her resolve sharpening like tempered steel. If balance demanded a reckoning, she would be its hand.
Jam hissed sharply, the sound slicing through the air like a blade, snapping her back to the moment at hand.
The stench thickened, suffocating, wrapping around her like a noose. Solena gagged, bile rising in her throat.
"Formation!" Rakthor barked, his voice cutting through her panic.
Tarrik and the others moved without hesitation, shields locking into place as they stepped in front of Solena and the rest of the party. Jam crouched low in front of her, muscles tense, his growl deepening into a dangerous rumble.
A Voidfiend burst from the darkness, jagged and twisting unnaturally, its hollow eyes glowing like embers. Its shriek tore through the night, clawing at her senses as it raked deep furrows in the sand, charging with terrifying speed.
The wind shifted abruptly, carrying a murmur of distant chaos—sharp cries and heavy impacts that set the dunes trembling beneath their feet. The Voidfiend paused mid-charge, its head snapping toward the commotion. Solena stiffened, watching its hollow eyes flare briefly before it let out a guttural shriek and bolted into the night.
"Why did it stop?" Tarrik asked, his sword steady as his gaze swept the dunes.
"It's in pursuit of something," Solena said, her voice tight. "There's power up ahead—beyond the ridge."
Rakthor's gaze darted to hers, measured and steady. He gave a subtle nod, his tone firm but calm. "Close ranks. Eyes forward. We'll take this one step at a time."
They moved swiftly, shields raised, weapons drawn. Kalith kept an arrow nocked, scanning the shadows. As they crested the ridge, the havoc below hit like a physical blow.
A lone figure crouched in the sand, silver magic crackling wildly around him like a storm. Threads of luminous energy lashed out in arcs, sinking into the earth with violent purpose. His hands moved frantically, weaving the threads deeper, spreading like veins through the graveyard.
The Voidfiend approached him head-on, sprinting wildly. Then bony hands burst free from the sand—half-formed, jerking limbs clawing upward.
Solena's breath caught. Beyond the Necromancer, the ground rippled and writhed, disturbed by more rising dead. Skeletal forms clawed free in uneven waves, their hollow sockets fixed on nothing.
The air churned with a chaotic symphony that set Solena's nerves on edge—the clatter of bones and the piercing shrieks of Voidfiends. Beyond, the graveyard had transformed into a battlefield, a storm of undead and Voidfiends locked in relentless bursts of violence.
"He's everything the Eldari were taught to fear of Tharak Necromancers," Solena murmured, her voice low and taut. "Twisting death into agony, a living nightmare of every tale we believed."
Her gaze locked on the Necromancer, the chaos around him fueling the storm within her. Anger surged through her, fueled by the memory of Meila's resurrection.
Her pulse thundered as magic roiled within her, surging to the surface. Light rippled erratically around her, snapping outward in untamed waves that coiled and snapped like living things. The dead deserved rest. This rogue Necromancer was the reason for their torment. Her guilt ignited into fury, burning white-hot and unyielding.
The energy coursing from her caught the Necromancer's attention, his head jerking toward her. His bloodshot eyes burned with an unnatural intensity, his threads of magic flickering as he locked onto her.
"You didn't ask," she called, her voice raw, trembling under the weight of her words. Her next words came softer, almost broken. "I didn't ask…"
The admission hung heavy in the air, unanswered but unavoidable.
The Necromancer's expression darkened, the pause between them shattering as he raised his staff high. Energy crackled at its tip, silver arcs spiraling outward before he thrust it forward, sending a wave of raw power hurtling toward them.
"To me!" Solena shouted, thrusting her staff forward. Magic surged outward, forming a shimmering barrier of silver light.
The wave struck with the force of a river, shattering against the shield in a deafening burst. Solena dropped to her knees, her free hand slamming into the sand as cracks rippled through the protective magic.
Her hand struck something cold and solid beneath the sand. A sudden chill spread through her fingers as she reached for it instinctively. As her magic surged, the object seemed to awaken under her touch. She brushed the sand away, revealing a smooth, unmarred skull that now glowed faintly, infused with the power she had poured into it.
"Please…" The word slipped out, trembling on her lips, unbidden but desperate.
The skull answered.
A calm, steady voice echoed in her mind, carrying an ancient resonance. "Dual-Blessed, your call has reached me. You have my permission. Together, we can bring balance to this chaos."
Relief swept over her, sharp and cleansing, as the tension in her chest finally eased. Her grip loosened slightly, her breath steadying as she let herself exhale fully for the first time since the chaos began. Then, the hum beneath her fingers deepened, rippling outward in steady, rhythmic waves.
Her magic surged into the skull, filling the emptiness within and sparking a faint, golden glow. Threads of silver and gold light spiraled upward, pulsing in time with her heartbeat, answering her call.
The light swirled and coalesced, taking shape before her. An Eldari Healer emerged, his form woven from strands of gold and silver light. His luminous robes shimmered like dawn breaking through twilight, and his gaze, steady and knowing, locked onto hers.
Solena's breath shuddered, the weight of the Eldari Healer's presence grounding her for a fleeting moment. But the stillness didn't last. The Necromancer's presence pressed at the edge of her awareness, a dark pull that dragged her back to the chaos. Her gaze snapped to him, his bloodshot eyes burning with desperation, his magic faltering.
There was no triumph in his expression, only a hollow determination, as if clinging to the remnants of a purpose long lost. Solena's resolve hardened, her focus narrowing. She couldn't falter now.
The Eldari Healer raised his hands, releasing a shimmering wave of gold light that surged forward, intertwining with her own silver magic. The combined force tore through the battlefield, striking the Necromancer. His staff splintered in his hands, and his power shattered in a blinding cascade of light.
As the dust settled, the undead crumbled into brittle fragments, their remnants dissolving into the sands. For a moment, there was only silence, thick and heavy.
Solena sagged slightly, her breath ragged, but the momentary relief was broken by an eerie stillness.
Then the Voidfiends moved.
Their jagged forms tilted unnaturally, as if sensing the shift. One by one, their glowing eyes fixed on her group in chilling unison. The weight of their gaze pressed against the air, sharp and suffocating, a storm ready to break.
Rakthor's voice cut through the tension. "They're coming," he growled, his shield raised, stance braced for the inevitable fight.
Solena's staff slipped from her grasp as her knees buckled. She stared at its faintly flickering glow, despair crashing over her. The realization struck like a blow—she had unleashed everything in a single, desperate wave. There was nothing left.
The Eldari Healer, once steady and radiant, began to dissolve, his light unraveling into fading strands of gold and silver. She reached out, her fingers brushing the last faint threads, but the connection was gone.
The cold emptiness of her failure settled like a stone in her chest. Her voice cracked, trembling with despair. "I've doomed us all."