Crimson Ascension

Many speculate Haven's infamous exit—the Gate—should have been at Elysium. If we are living in a cave, the mines lie deeper in the earth than the homeland of Sovrans. Why then should the exit to the "surface" be deeper into its bowels?

–Nerovian Orenn, Virien of the fallen House of Amethyst Dragons

Black blood stained the Hemomorph's Mantle. Draven ran from alley to home, from inn to tavern, destroying the creatures from the Beyond as fast as he could. But he was still too slow. With no blood in their bodies, his Art of Ruling was thrown out of the window. Abyss take him, but the Beyondra were many things, and alive wasn't one of them.

"Run to the Citadel. The Magisterium Arcana is building its resistance there." Draven helped a Sovran to their feet. The young woman wore silver armour, with a burning flame etched on her breastplate.

"Why are you helping us?" she said, voice woozy from the blood lost from the missing limb Draven had Mended. "We were tasked with hunting you. We were told to bring you dead or alive to the Catalyst District 99."

Again, the mines. My home. Why there? Both the Magisterium Arcana and the Silver Flame Inquisition had been issued the same orders. At first, he didn't understand what the Maker intended. Now he knew the truth. The Maker had abandoned the Haven, and the only exit lay in Draven's home District.

"Because no one else will." If the protector of the Haven failed to do his job, or his Perfected hid beyond reach, then it fell onto him. Turning his back on that reality was the same as striking these people dead with his Art. "Go now, stop wasting time!"

The Inquisitor shook her head, dispelling the wooziness, and then departed with a crisp salute. A silver sword shone with black blood on her hand, but it didn't have one hint of the familiar green of souls every Evoker wielded. A dozen citizens followed her escort.

Draven hoped they'd make it. The hundreds of heartbeats near the Ark'Ennir Citadel were strong, resolute—blood that flowed with the power and hint of spirit. Ascendances, Draven realized. The combined forces of the Valestria Great House, the Inquisition, and Magisterium Arcana. It had to be enough.

Once, he'd not have questioned the prowess of an Evoker, but times had changed. The creatures that lay siege on Elysium had no blood or soul. No matter how he looked at it, the Beyondra resembled an Art rather than a living creature. Perhaps there was truth in his instincts.

The air quivered slightly, like a breeze that burned with heat. Draven turned around, amplified body making his reaction faster than normal, blood exploding from the ground to form a shield in front of him. Black lightning crashed against it, crawling around the shield like a vine. Where it touched the ground, the stone turned to dust. The air itself whined an acute whistle as the dark strands of destruction laid waste to the surrounding buildings.

Draven let the shield fall around him, his eyes set on the creature that approached. It was humanoid, standing on two legs, though its height made even a Sovran look short. A pair of obsidian horns curved around its skull, giving way to white hair that fell to the creature's shoulder. It wore black robes and carried a spear made of the same energy it had used to attack.

Sha'Vitri. Draven's heart beat with alarm. Did the Fallen grow sick of waiting?

The Sha'Vitri didn't speak. Instead, it burst into motion, closing the distance to deliver a quick thrust with its weapon. Draven danced around the blows, confused. The Hemomorph's Mantle retreated around his right arm, leaving it exposed. The Sha'Vitri snarled, crushing the ground with a power step that sent strands of destructive energy shooting toward Draven.

Lighting crashed in the Hemomorph's Mantle, cracking it. The Sha'Vitri's eyes pulsed with darkness as the same energy enveloped its body. The air whined around him as he bent his knees, then exploded when he vanished.

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Draven caught the spear with his bare hand. The destruction stung at his skin, but didn't break through his Az'Tenri Durability and Amplified body. "It's a terrible move," Draven said with a shake of his head. "Why would Untaak'Dor send a living soldier after me?"

The Sha'Vitri's eyes widened. He tried to wrench the spear away, but Draven's grip was unshakable. The white-haired creature abandoned the weapon, resorting to destruction-infused punches. One struck Draven in the face, while another took him in the stomach. He continued to speak, unfazed.

"He'd have had a better chance with the Beyondra. They are weak, but at least they could have worn me down with time." A punch struck him in the jaw, making his face turn slightly. "But you… blood flows inside you."

The Sha'Vitri abruptly rose in the air, arms snapping behind his back, legs straight as if pulled. Blood seeped out from the Sha'Vitri's terrified eyes, trailing like tears on his face. Draven's heart was ice. They had attacked his home. They had come for him. There would be no mercy. He raised his hand, open palm facing the hovering creature, and clenched his fist.

Blood burst from the Sha'Vitri's skin, draining from its body. An instant later, it lay on Draven's hand, congealed into a sphere. The creature, once tall and muscular, fell to the ground like a dried-up piece of meat. Dead. Two citizens watched the battle from inside a crumbling store. Fools! What are you still doing here? Draven could sense that those were not the only ones.

The air whined as energy built up behind him. Draven turned around, alarmed, to see the Sha'Vitri's dead body brimming with unrestrained strands of lightning. The darkness that enveloped it sucked in the light from its surroundings, feeding on it and growing more powerful. It consumed the dead flesh, turning it to ashes, but continued to grow.

What in the Abyss? Draven formed a shield around the mass of roaring destruction, cutting off its access to light. It had held the attack before, but now it cracked and bent as the violent currents inside became unstable. Draven unfolded his Presence, stretching it to his surroundings. Tendrils of blood wrapped around the citizens who had not escaped.

The shield cracked. The black lightning lashed out into the air. Draven wove a multilayered shield around himself and the Sovrans. Darkness consumed everything in a flash of doom.

"... Sir… Please!" Distant voices called to him.

"Maker protect us…"

"Cold Abyss… It's falling… we are all going to die!"

Draven's eyes snapped open. Dread beat alongside blood in his heart. Did I… lose consciousness? He, an Archon, Median Ascendance, had been driven to that point? He tried to prop himself up with one hand, but soon realized it was missing.

That… almost killed us. Morph's voice was shaken.

Power had brought them confidence. Confidence had cultivated arrogance. It had almost cost him their lives. Draven mended his body in an instant and stood up to see a dozen citizens caged in spheres of crimson—his shield. A few hundred paces away, a crater of destruction ate a hole in Eternatus.

You saved them, Morph? Draven asked, noticing the trail of destruction that signified he had all but been blasted away by the explosion.

Yes, they and us. I pushed them out of the explosion before it happened, so I could focus on keeping us alive. Morph manifested as a hollow set of armour beside Draven. "You've been doing a poor job at that."

"Lord!" A woman screamed from inside the shield.

Draven let the Art disperse with a thought, freeing the rescued people. "What is it?" No wound threatened her life, not even a scratch. She was safe, as far as Draven could see. What could possibly have caused the panic that made her eyes lose all hope?

She pointed a trembling finger up. Toward the ceiling.

Torches flickered out. The clouds in the air had vanished. Deep cracks wormed their way into the stone, deepening with every passing second. Chunks of rock fell from the ceiling like rain, peppering Eternatus with destruction and impending doom. Stone ground against stone, the resulting sound echoing like the moans of a dying beast.

Draven stumbled a step. He had heard the rumors. He had seen the truth with his own eyes. But what lay in front of him—the prophesied destruction on a scale that no tales could describe—made his heart stop within his chest.

He looked up. The ceiling fell.