Crimson Ascension

The ground rumbled as the hexbeast laughed, then it shattered into deafening flying debris. The shadows, once fluid like it, become solid like the swift changes in the mood of a madman, bursting through the ground and speeding toward the group.

"Watch out!" Draven shouted, manifesting a crimson dome around himself, Finn, and Elevalein.

"Do not stand around!" Helvan snarled. He drew his sword in the blink of an eye and disappeared. "You think you can block an Ascendant hexbeast, boy? Have you become stupid?"

Draven blinked, confused for a moment—the shield he conjured was no longer around him. He could have sworn he had been closer to Orun and Morgan just a moment ago, but now he stood with Finn and Elevalein in the far corners of the Ruler's abode.

"How—"

"Shut your mouth and listen!" Helvan cut him off. "Stand back. Attack from afar and be ready to mend the injured. That is all you can do in this fight. The same goes for both of you."

The Sovran held Finn and Elevalein's gazes until they acknowledged the command. Just as soon as he had moved, he disappeared.

Far ahead, three domes woven of blood lay shattered in the dimly lit cavernous confines. Spikes made of pure darkness pierced through them without so much as cracking the resilient material. Draven had undoubtedly practiced more about how to emit attacks than to weave shields, but his creations were not shoddy. Or so he thought. Before the might of an Ascendance, Eminences had no choice but to bow.

"I might be weak." Finn swallowed and took a cross-legged seat. "But there's something I can do. Draves, do you mind covering for me?"

"I'll try."

Elevalein raised his hand and blasted the moving shadow with pulses of solidified green light. As the Ruler roared, the Evoker stopped his attacks, his face paling. Without further delay, mist wafted out of his body, expanding in a circle to envelop himself and the others. Light passed through it sluggishly, almost as if diving from the air into the crystalline water of a lake.

"I've masked our souls and presences, but… I don't know. That beast is sentient. Cold abyss, it can talk!" Elevalein held a hand forward, holding something only he could see. "If we attack it too much, I'm not sure this will hide us from it."

Draven looked at the dissipating domes of blood and frowned. He hadn't been able to stop a single attack. He had to do better. The hexion woven into the shield had been thin, but it could become so much more—stronger, denser. All it would take was to ignite the rune burned on his face.

The ground rumbled around Morgan, cracking as she unleashed her Presence like a physical veil. She launched the twin daggers at the ground, burying them in stone with sheer force. Her hair turned silver, fur growing throughout her body until she resembled a humanoid hybrid of a wolf and human. Sharp claws burst out of the tips of her fingers, shining amidst the dim light that cascaded down from the two hovering lightspheres.

She howled, effortlessly dodging a barrage of shadow tendrils that shot at her legs, and charged at the hidden hexbeast. A pillar of darkness descended from the ceiling, outside of her field of vision, intent on smashing her head open, but the silver-furred Transmuter evaded it as if she knew it was coming.

That's… She's almost as fast as Helvan. Draven gritted his teeth, despising the realization he would be of no help in the fight—that his very presence was a liability.

Morgan dashed to the side, avoiding bursting spikes of darkness, before pouncing at the living mesh of shadows. She drew her hand back as one would a sword and slashed at it. The air screamed and distorted as the attack passed through the occluded hexbeast without making contact.

"It's not here!" Orun screamed, pushing Morgan to the side as crimson energy stained his armour red. He held a shield in front of him, positioning the blade over it like a scorpion's tail. "Where's this cowardly thing? Screw this, Morgan!"

A burst of crimson light pulsed out from him, staining the world red. The fading light in the cave assumed a bloody hue, and Draven's blood was almost pulled out from his pores by an irresistible force that demanded obedience.

Who dares! A snarl echoed inside his head as the Hemomorph awakened with a furious blend of indignation and wrath. The small red and black astra flared with power, burning brighter, emanating power. I hunt! Me!

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Draven fell to his knees, blood seeping out of his mouth. The hexion strengthening his body constricted, strangling him from within, as the Hemomorph fought for dominance. You damned beast, I'll end this now. He mustered his will, enveloping the second astra with his authority, and pressed against it.

"Aiden, no!" The Hemomorph, to Draven's surprise, pleaded rather than fought back. "Hunt together. I no prey!"

"You fucking parasite." Draven wove his will into a sphere, enclosing the Hemomorph's astra. "There's no together here. You don't think I know what you're doing? The moment I let my guard down, you'll take over my body."

The Hemomorph simmered, its feelings passing over to Draven as he touched the astra with his will. Fear, anger, and hunger—a multitude of emotions—flew through its child-like, underdeveloped psyche; but sadness overwhelmed it.

The image of a red-haired woman passed over alongside the feelings. Draven stammered, holding off on suppressing the creature inside of him. Myra… It was her. He did not doubt it.

"I no parasite!" The Hemomorph snarled. "Aiden strong. But Aiden coward. Think too much. Think. Think. Think until friend die."

Anger boiled inside of Draven—anger and a deep sense of shame. The creature might speak crudely, like it was still learning how to convey its thoughts, but the meaning behind its sentiments was clear. Hate it as he might, he couldn't deny the truth.

Myra sacrificed her life to save him. He stood by and did nothing. If he had trained harder, shaped the hexion into a solid shield, Paradius's flames might not have ended her life. In the end, he had become a bystander once again.

"I can't fight it, dammit! You think I don't want to? Use your eyes and look. It's too strong—"

"Dragon was strong. Morph killed it." The Hemomorph interrupted, calling itself a Morph. Perhaps it wasn't able to speak the full name, hard as it was on the tongue, or maybe that was what it called itself. "Bald man was strong. Morph killed him. Understand?"

He killed Paradius and Altavir?

Memories flowed into his mind, fragments of a forgotten battle—the hollow thud of the Mender's head falling to the ground, the pleading screams of Lord Paradius Orenn. Draven fought with a terrifying power that burned him from the inside out, the Amplification rune scouring his soul and flesh.

But that too fell short of a Perfected's power.

"You don't understand." Draven refused to call the serpent by its name. "That rune has no containment or other runes to regulate its function. If I do that again, I'll probably die."

"Alive!" A small red serpent emerged from the depths of its astra.

"This is a waste of time!" Draven roared, tightening the hold over the creature's source of power. "I—we—won't be alive if you interfere again. Do that again, and I don't care what happens, I'm shattering your soul even if it costs mine."

"This isn't the time to space out, dammit!" Finn promptly slapped him on the head. "Wake the fuck up!"

Draven returned to the physical world only to witness Orun being launched at the distant wall like a sack of coal—his silver armour, once pristine and well-maintained, now broken and bent beyond repair. A pool of blood dripped down from wounds as the Mender emerged from the man-shaped crater, but it soon floated, revolved around his head before flowing back to his wounds, sealing them instantly.

The Ascendant Mender breathed heavily, his shield nowhere to be seen. He gripped the curved sword in one hand, while the other hung limp, even though no visible injuries hindered its movement.

Draven looked around, trying to find Helvan and Corvanis, but what he found was a black furred abomination holding the Morgan's corpse in one clawed hand.

The Ruler of Shadows stood taller than any Sovran, easily doubling even Arzhan's unnatural height. An inky, flowing black mane adorned a feline head with burning yellow eyes. A set of horns curved around its head like a crown, and bone-like protrusions erupted from its shoulders, elbows, knees, and heels.

It was as if Daesvor, the land of dreams, had descended upon the Haven, bringing along one of its many nightmares.

Helvan stood on one knee, the blood in his head making the hair stick to his skull. Holes riddled and tore his usual black robes, revealing a complex pale blue runic circle shining through them.

Corvanis lay on a puddle of blood with a missing arm, his heartbeat growing weaker by the moment.

"It's hopeless." Elevalein's voice trembled. "Lesser Ascendance, my abyss-damned ass! That thing is Median, if not Greater rank. Our only chance is to lie low. The soul shroud will hold as long as nobody uses too much hexion or walks out."

Draven understood that.

He saw the fear on Finn's face. He saw the hesitation on Elevalein's trembling hands. He knew they were right to fear for the worst, but he refused to witness history repeating itself. On Myra's burnt body, he had sworn never again to lose someone dear to him. With a last glance at his deceased family, Aiden had died so that Draven could walk the path a miner boy never could.

With a deep breath, Draven walked out of the soul shroud, letting the full force of his presence flood the cave. The spilled blood trembled as he strode toward the hexbeast. The air vibrated as he expanded tendrils of hexion to fill the entire chamber.

The Ruler of Shadows met his gaze and grinned.