Acacia Chronicle

Inside the Black Citadel in the city of Shadowgate, stronghold of Elicia’s Black Legion…

On the outside, it was much like the Ancient Cathedral back home at the Holy See of Arcadia. At least, if the great Cathedral’s white and gold exterior could ever be black and crimson. Like how it was right now, as this monolithic castle of black stone and crimson spires towered over all of the city of Shadowgate, over all of its dark streets and overcrowded districts that existed behind walls of black iron.

That, the lavender-haired girl with green eyes known as Anna de la Lune could only muse to herself as she tread lightly with slippered feet upon the halls of the Black Citadel. Dressed in purple robes embroidered with silver threads, the black eldritch chains protruding from the flesh of her back and arms lagged upon the floor as she walked alongside her escort, a contingent of tall and imposing soldiers clad fully in black plate armour polished to a fault. They were the elite guard of the Lord General himself, and they had received her as early as the crowded checkpoint leading into the city gates, bringing her aside from the mass of criminals and heretics from all over the Empire of Arcadia who had taken the Black Amnesty as a reprieve from their crimes.

It was then and there, at those dark gates, that she remembered accepting the palanquin to the Citadel. Borne by humans and elves she noticed had faces branded with a sigil in the shape of a reaper's scythe. They were the Condemned, she remembered one of the guardsmen saying as they marched alongside her little palanquin. Wretches who had broken Elicia's Law once more within Shadowgate despite the Amnesty offered to them in the life they had left behind. And doing so, they had accepted a fate of slavery rather than soldiery.

But to what end, to what suffering, however, she could only guess. She wished she had the time to see the rest of the city that awaited her outside the Black Citadel. Truthfully, even the city itself was more of a massive fortress, but that only served to pique her interest even more, if only to see what could be seen in a land far beyond the Ecclesiarch's reign.  She remembered how her very well-travelled sister, Claire de la Lune, had once told her that were she to ever travel across the span of the Empire of Arcadia to perform with Heretic's guild caravan like she did, she too, would see a multitude of kingdoms, each more different than the last. Like travelling from one world to another, the only binding thread being Elicia's divine Law and their acceptance of her Peace. For such was the Archon's Privilege that allowed them to rule their dominions as they saw fit, so long as they bent the knee to their one true god and enforced her divine Law upon the world around and beneath them.

Despite this, all that she had seen so far had felt wrong, to say the least. Very wrong, when she looked back to her memories of the beauty and vibrance of the Upper City back home in the Holy See of Arcadia. Where she was once a courtesan of Heretic, in what felt like another life. Even the Lower City too, she knew was under the Ecclesiarch's protection. Here, nothing seemed right at all.

Felt that way, at least. She could not help but wonder what her sister would have to say to all of this, and more. It was unlikely Heretic would bring anyone here, after all.

Even so, she knew she could not back down. Not yet, if only for Claire de la Lune, her most beloved elder sister. So long as it was for her safety and happiness back home in the Ancient Cathedral, no evil could ever be beneath her, the little sister. Be it here or anywhere, she had sworn this to herself the day she had left the city she knew all her life to be home, repeating this pledge over and over in the long nights of the journey to Shadowgate alongside murderers, witches and heretics from all over the Empire. As though a prayer to Elicia herself, if only that she, Anna de la Lune, would never waver in her single conviction. That all she had done and lost to hurt the one she loved, would mean something in the end.

And it was here, within the dimly-lit interior of the Black Citadel, that she saw more of these Condemned. Like those she had seen outside, they were branded with the same sigil, men and women scurrying all around with their hands and legs busy with a myriad of tasks within the massive compound. Some of them, she noted, lay unmoving upon the cold floor, some bloody and others completely still and bloodless. The armoured guards standing at every turn and hallway seemed completely unaware of this, much to her surprise. But even then, as she continued walking alongside her armed escort, as her bladed chains slithered behind her like the drapes of an eldritch cloak, a part of her suspected that she knew why this was happening.

But regardless, such thoughts and concerns would have to wait. For it seemed that now, alongside the Lord General's finest, she had come to the end of her long journey into Shadowgate and the heart of darkness that was its Black Citadel. Where beyond the entrance into the great hall that lay ahead of her, was an indoor arena that stunk of fresh blood and the despair of killings long past. The Lord General's men had stopped here, opening wide the great doors for her to enter, and it was here she was certain that he, the Archon that Elicia called Ebondrake, awaited her. He, a human who was said to be a warrior and sorcerer without peer, who had many Hellbourne servants bound to him. She could, after all, sense their eldritch taint. Much like hers, it emanated throughout the Black Citadel.

It was with this that a part of her hoped that somehow, he would know what she truly was. Being both human and Hellbourne with all of these eldritch chains in her and a black heart of accursed obsidian where one of flesh and blood once was had left her confused, to say the least. Even Elicia, praise her, and the beholder who served as her Eye, could not give her a good answer. And Terask Dagon, curse him, had remained silent.

With all of this upon her mind, a smile formed upon Anna's lips. With the elite guard of Lord Ebondrake standing at attention as she strode past them, she entered the arena, her head held up high while her eldritch chains slithered alongside her every step of the way upon the cold stone floor leading into the fate that awaited her.

Anna de la Lune’s audience with the Lord General of the Black Legion…

Now that she was in here, she could feel it.

Amidst the stench of blood and sweat of this massive arena, Anna could. It was a surge of emotion upon her black heart, making it swell as she stood waiting with the limelight upon her in this arena where she could sense a powerful presence nearby. Who was, she was sure of it, watching and waiting for her. 

As she considered this, the doors at the other end of the arena opened. Where without warning or further announcement, a group of the Lord General's elite guardsmen rushed at her with their massive axes and greatswords at the ready, their armoured footsteps thundering upon the ground as they closed in with a killer's conviction upon her. And just as she was about to fully appreciate the peril of her situation, she found herself shifting sidewards in an almost instinctive fashion. When she beheld the infernal deluge that obliterated her initial position with firebolts, she realised why.

And without missing a beat, as the heat of the residual flames could be felt keenly upon her skin, Anna extended her palm in her enemies' direction, her sigil’s green light making itself manifest upon her hand as its lines formed her hydra of chains. As her green eyes wet themselves with blood, she looked ahead of the weapon-wielding guardsmen, towards their black-robed comrades who readied another wave of firebolts with their bloodied staves and sigils at the ready. And she remembered the advice of 'Miss Elena', the elven Lich to whom her most beloved elder sister was now a servant. Of the importance of ‘killing the one in the dress’ first amongst any given group of enemies, for they were usually sorcerers wielding magics deadlier than any blade.

It was with this in mind and her bloody tears upon her cheeks, that her conjured chains sprung forth from beneath the ground by the eldritch magics of her sigil's green light. Making themselves manifest far past the armoured warriors' charge, their bladed edges impaled the black-robed sorcerers at the back before their staves could once more channel their sigils' magics for another fiery barrage. Leaving them, without so much as a second glance from her, bloodied and broken on a sepulchure of black blades while she grinned and laughed, the most welcome sensation of burning alive overtaking the entirety of her senses as she stood now a living, breathing pillar of white and purple flames. Ethereal flames they were, born from her black heart.

Indeed! It was a most blissful feeling! One that she had nearly forgotten, only to have it return in her time of need with a vengeance when her bloody tears reignited the magics resting within her Hellbourne soul. The passion of her ascension, in all its eldritch glory. And as the armoured warriors of the Lord General's elite guard closed in, she swore to share this passion with them in all its wondrous splendour. Just as she did so easily, the now-dead sorcerers once meant to cover their advance.

And she did. With little more than a mere thought and bloodied gesture as her petite frame continued to burn in ethereal fire, the bladed chains protruding from her arms and her back sprung to life and eviscerated all that remained of her enemies as they converged upon her with their weapons to kill. Her bladed chains tore through their armour, their flesh and their bones as though it were all for show, sending forth showers of blood that cascaded upon her like crimson rain that sizzled and evaporated into sanguine fumes upon her burning flesh.

“Ebondrake!" Anna declared as she stood bloody and burning, the bladed ends of her eldritch chains slithering around her feet as she screamed her eldritch fury to all who would behold her. "Are you… watching me?”

And as she looked upon the fallen, she grinned as her next opponent entered the arena. Towering over her like a living nightmare, with a tattered, fur-trimmed cape billowing in his armoured wake, he stood clad from head-to-toe in black plate armour of greater make than even those of the elite guard she had so effortlessly slain mere moments before. It was also worn with age, visibly notched and dented all over despite its polished gleam. And in one gauntleted hand, he wielded a massive rune-etched halberd with an enchanted edge that glowed with eldritch magics. While upon the other, his sigil glowed a deep purple light, its lines forming the symbol of a reaper's scythe.

"You're here at last... I've been waiting to meet you. Lord Ebondrake..."

"So have I."

As the words left her bloodied lips, as she heard his reply that rumbled upon her ears in his tone both deep and hollow, Anna smiled and laughed, giggling like a little girl at a birthday party. For indeed, it was him in the flesh. Lord General Ebondrake. And when she willed forth a blast of eldritch chains at him with her green sigil, she found herself reeling back slightly as he countered with a blast of arcane energy of his own. That, upon clashing with her attack, sent shockwaves that rocked the entirety of the arena.

"Let's begin."

Piercing through this shower of sparks and chains like an arrow in flight, Ebondrake rushed at Anna, the sharpened edge of his halberd at the ready. And as he rapidly closed the distance between them, far faster than anything she had ever witnessed, she responded in kind. Willing forth more and more eldritch chains from every concievable angle as her green eyes bled themselves raw while the ethereal flames of her black heart burnt brighter than ever, she set them behind and ahead of his advance. Their bladed edges struck in unison as they surrounded and raked him from every side fathomable with their serrated edges, burying his armoured frame in a gaol born from what seemed an unending multitude of bladed chains from every possible direction.

“It’s over… it’s over…” Anna muttered to herself. "Ebondrake, you..."

And as the words left her lips, she found herself taking a step back as she watched, with eyes bloody and raw, shades of purple light forming within her sepulchre of bladed chains. It grew rapidly in intensity, culminating in a massive explosion that sent her reeling towards the entrance of the arena from which she came.

“Impossible…”

Anna said this, as she watched Ebondrake resume his charge with even greater fervor. It was a zeal that even within the throes of her burning frenzy, she could sense its passion upon her black heart, as though they were but kindred spirits. And with every step thundering forward, she could see blood dripping and trailing in his wake from his black armour, of which seemed to not stop him even in the slightest as he wielded his massive weapon effortlessly through wave after wave of the eldritch chains she summoned to attack him with one brutal cleave of his halberd after another.

It was with this, as though he was the spectre of death itself, that he advanced closer and closer, ever onward until his halberd’s edge could reach her black heart. And when he was that close, when Anna could see the purple glow of his eyes from within his helmet's visor staring into hers as though to gaze into the very depths of her soul, she willed forth, with all of her burning terror, the bladed chains protruding from her arms and her back to flank and skewer him through his armour. But at the distance between them both, he was far quicker, and he bashed her over the head with the heft of his massive halberd, the force of which interrupted her counterattack just as easily as it sent her crashing against the arena wall behind her.

And as she lay slumped upon its cold, bloodied surface, as she watched Ebondrake walk up towards her with blood trailing in his wake, everything began to fade to nothingness before the bloody eyes of Anna de la Lune. Slowly, gently, petering out from a bloodied blur into absolute nothingness.

Awakening, upon the bloody arena…

When Anna next opened her eyes, she felt the enchanted edge of Ebondrake's halberd poised upon her throat. Where as it lay upon her skin, the blood of her black heart wet it, leaking drop by drop as she beheld him standing over her with the entirety of his nightmarishly tall frame, his purple eyes glowing eerily upon her through the visor of his black helmet.

“Is this Elicia’s ‘gift’ to me? How… flattering. Terask Dagon is a fool, leaving something so powerful in our hands.”

His voice was a deep and hollow rumble, similar to what she recalled back in the fevered pitch of battle. She watched in silence as she felt the sharpness of his halberd leave her neck, only to have it rest upon the sticky surface of her bloodied robes. Where beneath lay the crimson glow of her black heart.

“Unless, he’s planning something far greater. And he will be punished for it. But tell me… what is your name, Hellbourne sorcereress? Who bleeds like a human, and yet, is not of us.”

“Anna…” Anna rasped, a feeling of nakedness taking root within her senses as she realised the absence of the warmth of the ethereal flames that had once shrouded her and the broken ends of her body's chains. “Anna de le Lune...”

As the words left her lips like a bloody whisper, Lord Ebondrake said them out loud in turn, syllable by syllable as though to taste it. And when he was done, he removed his halberd from where it lay upon her black heart, turning on his armoured heel to leave the arena. 

“You won’t…” Anna whispered, a delirious grin forming upon her lips as she watched the Lord General of the Black Legion walk away from her. “Finish… me? I… would’ve… even if…”

With a grunt, Lord Ebondrake turned around and looked at her once more.

“Of course not. My occultists will tend to you, as my apothecaries would for me. I wouldn’t squander Elicia’s gift, now that she has proven herself worthy to serve as my Vizier. We will speak again, in due time.”

With that, before Anna could say anything, Ebondrake turned and left the arena. This time for good, leaving her alone amidst the bloody corpses. And as she lay upon a puddle of her own blood, she found herself smiling as she watched the occultists gather around to work their eldritch ritual upon her black heart, revitalising it and making her whole as though the violence before was all but a sweet dream. After all, she had found her new home. Where in Elicia’s name, her work as a Vizier of the Lord General could finally begin.

All of it, for Claire de la Lune.