Crimson Ascension

The Erratic Mountain had been enormous from the distance, but up close, it was unfathomable. Its soaring peak pierced so high in the sky that, had there been a ceiling like in Elysium, the rocky formation might have burst right through it.

Nothing but faint rays of light pierced the veil of shadows, even though the sun was high in the sky. If Draven didn't know any better, he'd assume they were hunting during the night. But the moving, thick, inky shadows shattered any measure of normalcy from the landscape.

Draven walked with a grim resolve. His reserve and providence were full, but his astral power remained at Lesser Eminence. After weighing in the risks, he had decided against pushing to open another meridian. Even if things went according to plan, there would be no time to refine more hexion.

He did not fancy the idea of facing an Ascendance Hexbeast with an empty reserve.

"This place is wrong," Finn muttered.

He had voiced his concerns about coming—a Median Reverence in the middle of a battle of Ascendances—but Helvan's calm reassurance convinced him to come. The raven-haired Sovran was a bastion of confidence, calm and resolute, as if nothing in the Haven could shake him.

"The shadows… they look like moving ink." Draven nodded.

He glanced at Helvan's back, questioning the many discrepancies between what he knew about Archons and what his eyes could see. The Sovran was old, strong enough to push his attributes to the limit, yet his Empyrean power didn't match his talent. From what Draven had learned, Helvan should have been at least at Greater Ascendance.

But he's Greater Eminence. Draven frowned, trying to make sense of the situation. That makes no sense, breaking through Ascendance is just a matter of opening meridians. If he said it's easy for us, then why hasn't he done it?

The sharp noise of a twig breaking echoed to the side. Draven pivoted to the direction, confused about not having heard any heartbeats, ready to engage, but he found no hexbeast. Instead, a small, rabbit-like creature gazed at the moving party with beady black eyes.

A burst of green shot from Elevalein, striking the creature dead in the head. His eyes widened with alarm as he shouted, "It has no soul!"

Orun reacted faster than Draven could follow. A polished dagger forged out of crimson hexion struck the odd rabbit, digging into its body until it exploded in numerous spikes that destroyed the creature so thoroughly that not a strand of hair remained.

"Better safe than sorry," Orun said with a shrug.

"Have you tracked it?" Helvan asked. He knelt where the creature had been, inspecting the place for any clues. "The Erratic Mountain is a vast place, and I am not in the habit of wasting time."

"It's faint, but yes. I sense its heartbeat in the distance." The Mender looked ahead as if his sight could pierce the thick shadows. "There are plenty of others, but none seem stronger than Lesser Reverence."

Draven focused on his instincts, trying to amplify his heartsense, but he couldn't find a strong beat no matter how far he looked. Hexbeasts prowled in all directions, uninterested in their presence, content to just patrol their territory. It was odd. Their frenzied behaviour vanished for no apparent reason.

He shrugged, focusing on the immediate surroundings rather than dispersing his attention far ahead. Ascendances are no joke. Orun can probably expand his sense way further. The gap between Reverence and Eminence wasn't insurmountable, but the gap between Eminence and Ascendance was.

The group walked, weapons in hand, heading on its determined steps through the rocky ridges of the Erratic Mountain. Dead trees gave place to a forest of nothing but rocks and cracked stone. The beasts that prowled attempted to stay far away from the place where Draven and the other were headed.

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That sent shivers down his spine.

Hexbeasts were supposed to be unintelligent, for the most part. Reverences were nothing more than rabid animals, while Eminences hunted with conniving strategy, but were far from smart. Both stay far away from the ruler of the mountain, perhaps by instinct or calculation.

A cave opened in the mountain's side like a gaping maw that swallowed the dim light. Wind howled in the tight confines of the opening, singing a tune that resembled the moans of a dying man.

Orun rummaged through his travel pack until he found a lightsphere. With a gentle burst of hexion, the orb floated into the air, connected to the Mender by minute tendrils of blood. The light emanating from it was strong, dense, yet it failed to pierce the moving shadows fully.

Morgan produced another one, which soon joined the first. Together, the two light-producing devices generated enough light to clear the path ahead.

"This will have to do," Corvanis spoke, assuming his Chaos Form. "Draven, Finn, ready yourselves."

Finn's eyes shone with white light, and a shimmering aura emerged from his skin, distorting the air like a burning heat wave near the ground.

"Who would have thought, a Dreamer?" Morgan's eyes widened in surprise. "Seems like you aren't completely useless after all, Reverence boy."

Finn had never liked Sovrans, and Draven knew it, but that had changed with time. His hatred, once widespread, had sharpened into a spear which pointed at more specific targets rather than into a vast concept. Still, the snarl on his friend's face told Draven that he wasn't pleased with the comment.

"Evoker, what are you waiting for?" Morgan turned her attention to Elevalein. "Send your Specters scouting ahead. We didn't get this far just to die because of a half-assed ambush from a mindless beast."

Elevalein grunted, the displeasure at being ordered around evident on his face. Reluctantly, he complied. Hexion poured out of his body in a cloud of green mist as a Specter's head emerged from his chest, ready to emerge. Abruptly, however, it disappeared.

Eyes bloodshot, rage and embarrassment making his face red, the Evoker gritted his teeth until two ethereal green bodies shot out of his body like arrows. One of the soul thralls wore a leather set of armour coupled with a long cape that trailed on the ground, while the other was a mountainous man who carried a gigantic spiked shield.

Morgan raised an eyebrow to Helvan, the surprised sort of disappointment all but spoken out loud. The raven-haired Sovran met her gaze and produced a shrug.

What's his deal? It almost feels like he's not fully in control.

The Specters sprinted forward, disappearing in the obscuring veil of darkness that hindered even the magical sight bestowed by the core of a Hemomorph. Not even Draven's sight could pierce it effortlessly.

A few long minutes passed by in utter silence. None whispered, much less conversed. The anticipation and worry almost formed an aura around the Empyreans. The Empyreans felt it in the air, in their own trembling breaths.

"Found it," Elevalein muttered under his breath. "It's up ahead. Alone. I had my Specters retreat before they could notice them."

Orun and Morgan dropped their travel packs on the ground, carrying nothing but their weapons in their hand. The large man wielded a small shield in one hand, and a slender, curved blade in the other, while his companion carried two silvers daggers in a white-knuckled grip.

At times like this, after witnessing every other empyrean, Elevalein and Finn included, wielding a weapon, Draven questioned his choice of going to the battle unarmed.

A blade would cut easier than congealed blood. A spear would pierce deeper than constructs made of hexion. A shield would certainly do a better job of stopping physical attacks. Knowing that, was it wise to forgo the clear advantages? He wished to know the answer, for it one day might hold the key to his survival.

The tunnel, once low and cramped, suddenly opened into the vastness of a cave. The lightspheres shot above, guided with the deft hands woven in crimson tendrils, bringing the light down to illuminate the cavernous expanse.

A bright reflection drew Draven's attention to one side. A torn piece of armour—human armour—lay abandoned to one side, a broken skull and bones its only companion. Far to the side, near the cave's walls, a pile of Sovran remains stank with the odour of years spent in decay.

Draven focused his heartsense, scanning the room for any sort of clues. A heartbeat echoed in merely a dozen paces in front of him. A shadowy silhouette, possibly twice as tall as even the tallest Sovran he had ever encountered, Arzhan, quivered.

"I have been waiting." A crude, scratchy voice snarled from all sides. "I hunger."

The inky shadows parted as two yellow eyes snapped open.