Hope

All their available forces had gathered at the four military compounds that happened to be overlooking the three Spires. In fact, they were on the very edge of the buildings before a large gap around the Spires themselves. The compounds were on the 11nth city level, however, that was surprisingly not that big of an issue: Each had a dedicated pulley elevator system in place specifically for getting armies up and down right on the edge of the Spires’ plaza - which in hindsight was probably why they had been chosen as the gathering points.

There had been no attacks since the ceiling collapsed, making it a clear calm before the storm. There was no doubt in Irwyn’s mind that the undead were gathering for the upcoming decisive battle. The overarching plan was relatively simple: All of the soldiers would descend and set up a defensive position around the Spires, both for threats from within and without. In the meantime, all their conception mages, as well as Elizabeth and Irwyn, would enter the Administrative Spire atop which the Beacon had been built with their backs covered.

All they had to do was reach the 15th floor where there was an ‘indestructible’ access point that could be used to start the beacon again. When the way was clear, there were apparently enough heavy hitters ready to end the incursion in minutes. Said reinforcements were apparently already on their way by land one way or the other. The issue was, they would not make it before the city fell. Not nearly. The casualties were accumulating and then accelerating.

The plaza around the Spires was uncontested, disturbingly so. The overhead buildings had cleared out and Irwyn had an actual view of the skies above that was so rare across the city. It probably allowed even natural sunlight to shine down during the day though it was the middle of the night at the moment. That being said, he could not stand and be fascinated by the metaphorical eye of an architectural storm. They were running out of time. Therefore, Irwyn, Elizabeth and the 15 conception mages that had gathered entered the Spire together. Just one of them, the one with the Beacon.

What greeted them was madness.

The first floor was supposedly more of a lobby from what Irwyn had grasped in their brief discussion and planning. A lot of open space for people awaiting appointments or clearance to go further upward, either by foot or teleportation. Now, every inch of that space was covered in actively writhing flesh. Thick veins pulsed across the walls and floor, accompanied by the smell of feces and viscera that only reinforced the constant stench of necromancy for a truly nauseous mixture.

“Do not let it disturb you,” Old Hummingbird spoke. “This scene has been created for the explicit purpose of damaging your conviction. Refuse to allow that to happen. Turn it instead into certainty that our foe must be offered no quarter nor respite. My song will help. Also, watch your feet, there is almost certainly something hiding below us.”

Irwyn sighed and reinforced the barrier beneath his boots, not that it could even be pushed much further. Since he wasn’t going to be a major source of firepower, he had opted for five intentions dedicated to his defenses as well as a few weaker inner layers. In the best case scenario nothing was supposed to reach him or Elizabeth at the center of their formation, it was still a dangerous thing to bet on given that any hit could be quite lethal.

His nerves were tense as they walked across the first floor. It was grotesque, disgusting and made his stomach turn but at least he managed to avoid throwing up even as the floor shifted beneath his feet. Elizabeth and a few of the others also looked rather pale, however, most of the actual soldiers seemed to be completely undisturbed by the sight. Now, fair enough, those were all elite mages but Irwyn had to admit he was still impressed by that level of fortitude.

Somehow, they were allowed to reach almost the end of the floor before the attack happened. Near the far end, there stood a row of large checkpoints. Rather than allow them to obstruct the line of sight, Old Hummingbird ordered them destroyed from a distance, letting one of their several Void mages erase the thin metal constructions. The undead that had been hiding behind it apparently took offense to that. As the relatively weak magic was destroying the barricade it lunged through it. It was unbelievably fast. So fast actually that by the time Irwyn had realized that something was moving it was already gone.

“One concept, some kind of Speed. Possibly Time related,” the old Void mage officer who felt like erasure commented. Irwyn had not even really seen the undead. He had barely processed something moving though nothing remained of it now. Erasure, indeed. “Assassin. A bit of a potshot.”

“Well done but we must remain vigilant,” Old Hummingbird spoke with a nod. “The way is clear, let’s move on.”

And the ‘clear way’ was apparently the Fowl’s chosen strategy. Because he asked for the door that lead to the stairway to be broken. Then took one look at the stairway, saw that it wasn’t completely airtight underneath and asked for it to also be destroyed. Judging by the low ethereal scream that had caused he was even right that something had been hiding beneath it. Then he requested the door frame be expanded by a large chunk. That was been more difficult than the previous requests.

“The walls themselves are all heavily enchanted tungsten,” the mage who had been destroying most of their obstacles so far spoke. “And it’s connected to the Spire’s power source. I would just burn my Vessel out without achieving anything.”

“In that case, a pre-emptive strike above and around will have to do,” Hummingbird acknowledged. “Then a barrier from those directions. Assume every doorway and corner is an ambush. My song is far from infallible.”

“Why not use magic to visually look around the corners?” Irwyn had to ask.

“Can you do that?” Hummingbird raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?” Irwyn mirrored the expression. They were better mages than him and his remote eye spell as he called it really wasn’t that complicated.

“I should have thought of it,” Hummingbird nodded after a moment. “Light has an elemental advantage for such effects.”

“I am not sure what that means,” Irwyn frowned.

“How do you think Void mages capture and project visual images?” the old officer who felt like an endless fall asked.

“I have no idea,” Irwyn shrugged after puzzling for a couple of seconds.

“That is because doing so is incredibly difficult with most elements,” they explained. “Elemental advantage simply means that certain elements have much easier time achieving certain effects, especially at lower levels of power. For example, any element can technically speaking achieve effects similar to teleportation, Time mages can just do it orders of magnitude easier. Light is good at transferring images while Void is perhaps the worst element for it.”

“It also comes down to not being vulnerable while doing so,” their Time mage, the civilian translocationist, spoke up. “I could create a portal that allows me to see but it would still be a portal which means I could be attacked through it. Just images are... difficult since I have no practice with it.”

“Generally speaking, even Light magic is not safe as it could be used as a conduit for a Soul attack…” Hummingbird spoke. “But I suppose you can ignore that issue at the moment. How strenuous is your spell?”

“Not very, though it becomes worse with distance,” Irwyn assessed. “I am doing completely fine as far as my Vessel is concerned.”

“Sensual overload?”

“I can generally still walk straight while using the spell,” Irwyn shrugged, putting down a surge of embarrassment before it could arise. Splitting his sight in each eye into radically different images was difficult and he had yet to master it.

“Very well, then please check every corner or doorway before and while we go through,” the Fowl nodded. “The rest of us will still need to be vigilant about visual invisibility and stealth concepts. We will still pre-emptively strike and maintain barriers when passing through.”

And with that. A magical strike to hit anything hiding just out of sight followed by a protective dome before they all passed through the doorway in pairs while Irwyn made sure there was nothing in sight that could ambush them. Then they erected magical platforms to bring themselves up in place of the no longer existent stairs. This particular stairway, however, only allowed them to go up one floor. After another round of pre-emptive magics, they passed through another doorway finding themselves in another spacious lobby-like hall, just with several more private room-like areas to the side. Some were closed boxes, some had windows.

“Are all the stairways separated like that,” Old Hummingbird questioned no one in particular. Despite being chosen as their leader the man was clearly not familiar with the inside of the Spires.

“For the first five floors, then ascending becomes much more straightforward,” Elizabeth answered. “Usually, people move through teleportation stations to whichever floor they need to but the Spires were built to withstand a siege. If my very presence did not prevent defensive formations from activating, we would have all died when attacking the lobby checkpoint.”

“Very well, let’s continue,” the Fowl nodded. “Keep away from anything you cannot see behind. Are all these rooms part of the enchantment?”

“Afraid so,” their designated demolitionist sighed.

“Very well, then we will only burn the insides of those rooms from a distance. If you would?” Old Hummingbird looked at the old officer who felt like a calm sea of flames. The man merely nodded and stepped forward, whispering something beneath his breath.

Then than sea exploded and raged. Burned an entire meeting room from the inside for several seconds. When the Flames receded all Irwyn could see inside – because he had been asked to visually confirm nothing had survived that - were the soot-covered walls and crystals from some of the window glass that was just melted rather than evaporated. Then they moved on to the next until every single room had been scorched clean. In none of them Irwyn had heard that spectral screech though that hardly seemed to discourage their leader.

“Do not assume that there is nothing behind us. There always is,” Hummingbird nodded as the last room was finished. “Move on.”

The third floor had gone by in a similar manner. Burn the stairway, move up, clear every nook and cranny they could see, continue. The 4th was no different. The lack of any undead was downright unnerving to Irwyn after the event of the day and the Fowl leading them seemed to agree.

“Expect a major ambush soon,” the Hummingbird frowned. “They might be waiting for tighter corridors or some kind of advantage.”

Once again, they broke down the doors and struck around them. Then Irwyn cast his remote eye from a good distance away. He looked around and saw nothing wrong except the missing stairwell so he relayed as much. It was a good thing Old Hummingbird had insisted on barriers nonetheless because they were indeed immediately ambushed. As soon as the first pair walked through the doorway, the barriers above and around them them cracked.

Irwyn could not see what was pouring onto them. Nonetheless, the other mages reacted. Waves of various magics struck at where their enemies supposedly were while the front people retreated. Of course, they were immediately also attacked from the back. From behind alcoves and corners they have definitely cleared just moments prior undead began to swarm. These were slower, visible and very variable for the lack of a better world.

Some were horrifying abominations: Golems of pure sinew, floating geometrical shapes forged from white ivory, mockery of animals wrought from human flesh. And yet others simply… looked like people. So much so that if Irwyn didn’t know better it wouldn’t be apparent they were undead at all. Just those coming from behind also outnumbered them two to one. Not a split second had passed before magic exploded from everywhere and everyone. A dazing incomprehensible kaleidoscope of colours, intentions, and concepts that made Irwyn dizzy from just the proximity. More than grasping what was actually going on Irwyn caught just flashes.

He witnessed a human-like undead simply falling through the floor into somewhere and never reappear. The young inquisitor proved that they were indeed a specialist in fighting undead by literally tearing out their souls one by one with ease. Two dozen chants from both the living and death were joining the chaos, making each incomprehensible. The first casualty on their side happened perhaps three seconds after the start of the ambush. The other of the two civilian mages, who happened to be mostly a craftsman, simply dropped dead. Irwyn had not seen what or how hit him though soul magic was a good guess given the man’s barrier was not so much as disturbed. Irwyn might not have even noticed if they weren’t standing rather close to each other.

What he did feel was a massive surge of magic from somewhere immediately attempting to take hold of the corpse. There was the slightest twitch of post-mortem motion… and then whatever the spell was failed. Most likely Old Ibis’ contract working as indented, stopping their foes from raising the fallen. Speaking of Old Ibis, the man was perhaps the main reason Irwyn, and Elizabeth, had the leisure to just observe. Since the Fowl was no real combatant he was left with the position of guarding the two weakest mages of their gathering. So had been the artificer, though that was rather moot now.

Some five seconds into the fight, a screeching melody shrieked across the floor. It was, however, not one of Old Hummigbird’s ever-present songs, rather it was a deep and guttural choir of echoing words in a language Irwyn could not understand. Though Irwyn felt nothing more than discomfort at it, a big chunk of their group flinched. Soul magic then, though Irwyn didn’t know what was causing it. There were just too many things happening at once.

Thankfully, as if waiting for it, a different sound immediately fought it off. The low but ever-present sound of Old Humming’s magic rose and rose until it somehow managed to overshadow the mayhem of battle - the forlorn notes of the dirge among them at the forefront. Then the so-called Singing man did what in hindsight should have been obvious: The Fowl began to sing.

“And we lie a pile upon a pile

fathers, daughters, brothers, foes

on a pyre.

Not a flower, nor a briar,

not a mourner, single crier,

no epitaph.

And yet, they lie a mountain.

a tide, a force beyond reckon,

broken.

For to shed dread is to first learn fear,

then with bare hands grasp horror and,

smother it.”

And the effect was apparent. If before the dirge's notes made undead struggle to cooperate, now it outright disabled them. Even these Draugr as the others called them, undead with concepts, were seemingly reduced to bumbling children. If a moment ago they were being overwhelmed, now the tide had completely turned. The staggered undead were quite quickly cleaned out.

“Two dead,” the Ibis commented basically as soon as the battle ended and the singing quieted down. Irwyn couldn’t quite show his surprise given the mask. He had not even noticed. Looking around, he realized one of the younger officers, the one who felt like a lance of Void magic, was not standing anywhere. Nor could he see their body on the ground for that matter.

“Burn the corpses, we don’t want any potential re-anchoring and secondary raisings,” Old Hummingbird instructed, though he sounded slightly out of breath, nodding at Irwyn who nodded back and got right to it along with their older Flame mage as well as Elizabeth. “I would ask her ladyship to carry their spacial bags and any similar items we may find.”

There were just enough broken undead to cover most of the floor. Many were already missing pieces or were broken by the battle. The Fowl still advised them to not approach any of them and yell if something turns out to still be magic resistant - therefore not truly dead dead. None of those were hiding among the fallen this time though and the incineration was done in less than half a minute, leaving a stench of burnt flesh in the air.

“Why have we not detected anything beyond the door,” Irwyn questioned afterwards, disquieted.

“Mass invisibility and negating vibrations,” Old Hummingbird shrugged, seemingly not surprised or shocked whatsoever. “I have been trying to keep it somewhat secret as long as possible but my Sonata of echoes is purely based on physical sound. Creating a false image for you to see is not the hardest thing either for a risen conception Light mage, though doing so undetected is impressive.”

“Was there such a mage in the city for them to rise?” Elizabeth questioned with a frown.

“Not as far as I am aware,” the old Flame officer mirrored the expression. “No conception Light mages stationed or even visiting as far as I know. We tend to keep a lookout for those since they might be spies of House Brightbeak. Though they could have arrived earlier today.”

“I was actually working at the hub from noon until the incursion itself,” it was surprisingly the civilian translocationist who spoke to provide additional insight. “No ‘very suspicious’ goers from the Duchy of Yellow and today’s senior inspector is a hound.”

“That beckons the question:” the old Void erasure mage spoke in a deep raspy voice. “How are they here?”

“The troops have reported an unusual quantity of Light mage corrupted souls,” a younger officer added his two cents. “They were almost certainly imported and in numbers. But where have they come from?”

“Although I am also deathly curious,” Old Hummingbird interrupted. “I am sure most of you will be updated if not outright involved in the inevitable upcoming investigation. For now, we need to focus on surviving to see it. The usual procedure on the doorway, they could have gathered another ambush in the meantime.”

In the floors above, the attacks once again greatly slowed down. All that they faced were some borderline ‘potshots’ which rarely ever even took them by surprise due to Hummingbird’s downright paranoid approach to clearing their way as well as his Sonata. Now that the Fowl was no longer attempting to futilely hide its nature, he began pointing out any undead he felt in the room with them rather than just vaguely ordering their mages to clear specific areas.

After the fifth floor, their ascent became both easier and harder. As Elizabeth had said earlier, the layout has indeed changed. Rather than needing to go from one end of the room to the other to reach a stairway up, they reached a familiar spiral incline that apparently spanned the whole diameter of the Spire, gradually letting them go up as they walked in a sloped circle, encountering the singular entrances into individual floors along the way.

The issue was that since they were no longer forced to go through the rooms, they had to decide whether to enter in order to sweep them. A short discussion was held but in the end, Old Hummingbird had the final say as their chosen leader:

“We are running out of time that her ladyship has set as our deadline,” he glanced at Elizabeth who nodded. Irwyn had frankly long lost track, but then, they had told everyone they had almost an hour less than they actually did before Dervish’s protective consumable ran out and the man was forced into a more desperate battle. “We cannot afford to clear out every room, both because of time and attrition. Therefore, we will simply ascend. At some point, we are going to be swarmed by a large horde from both sides but the hallways being relatively tight and unbreakable works in our favour. We will need to pass every room very carefully so that it isn’t from 3 directions though.”

The sixth and seventh floors went without incident - though ironically the undead had removed the doors at the entrance of those floors, probably so that they couldn’t be blocked since they were still relatively durable. Irwyn had noticed that the Singing man began humming something whenever they were passing by the doors though didn’t comment on it. He could make a guess after how incredibly more powerful the Dirge had become when the man added his voice to it. It was also likely quite tiring given how sparingly the Fowl used it.

Another attack finally happened as they were passing by the eighth floor. Just about when half of them had moved beyond the door.

“Retreat!” Old Hummingbird suddenly interrupted his humming to shout. “As far as they will let us!”

No one needed to be told twice as they sprinted. Since they were passing by an open entrance several barricades were layered over it. Unfortunately, as Ibis had lamented before they even set foot into the Spire, they had no defense specialists. It began to crack immediately.

“Begone,” that did not mean they had no answer. The Old Void erasure mage was holding the center and without hesitation unleashed a spell with so much Void magic Irwyn almost stumbled from a good few meters away. The Remote eye he had summoned in the doorway was vanquished by it but by the sudden lack of attacks against their barrier so was everything else in the immediate vicinity. Old Hummingbird’s foresight had perhaps saved them once again. Although barely, they managed to all retreat behind the door just a moment later before whatever was coming from up front could pass the gradual bend.

“Contact,” shouted their rearguard from really not that far back.

“This is far enough, prepare for battle,” Hummingbird spoke as everyone took their pre-arranged position with Elizabeth and Irwyn huddling in the middle.

The situation wasn’t great but it was about the best they could expect. Although fighting in a tight indestructible corridor was a disadvantage, it also meant that numbers had less impact. No matter how many undead attacked them there could be only so many that fit at once. Moreover, the enchanted tungsten the Spires were built from supposedly warded against incorporeal undead passing through - though the Fowl leading them pessimistically pointed out that any ‘inability’ might be just a trick to make them drop their guards.

When the undead actually got to them, all Irwyn could really do was watch. This time the fight was not nearly as chaotic as the previous big ambush. First of all, their side had a few seconds to prepare which, apparently, made all the difference.

“...Below the bottomless,” the old Mage officer who had given Irwyn the impression of an endless fall and an element he could not quite place finished a chant they had been preparing since before the attack even properly started. And as far as the eye could see in the spell’s direction all the undead just… fell through the floor. But there was more to it. Even Irwyn who was significantly weaker than most if not all of these undead could stop a fall just by summoning a few simple platforms to hold him aloft. No, the undead did not simply fall due to gravity. Walking or flying, the very concept of falling had been forcefully imposed upon them. No simple boundary could stop that. And maybe even something more. Irwyn was mostly guessing and did not fully understand the old officer’s magic. He also had no idea where the undead were falling to.

It could be the Void itself. It could be something in-between Irwyn had no idea even existed. Maybe the mage was fully maintaining their destination with their own magic or a piece of equipment. It reminded Irwyn of the conversation they have had just earlier about elemental advantages; how difficult would it be to create a whole pocket dimension with elements other than Time/Space? Either way, the undead were unlikely to return as the mage took a step back and let some of the younger mages step up for the other undead already charging towards them. Since they had no real defensive expert to let them turtle, their protections were relatively fragile - mostly each mage’s personal barriers to be exact. Therefore, they would get overwhelmed if they didn’t kill the undead fast enough. And killing the Draugr in mass required big spells.

“...The tide burned,” their senior Flame mage was a couple seconds behind on their chant, probably mostly because they had been in the front and had to chant while retreating a significantly longer distance. The effect was massive though and Irwyn could feel and understand it much better than with Void magic.

The inspiration the mage had taken from the sea and its tides was clear but it was merely form. Shape that uniquely suited the user. But the essence of that magic was pure Flame. A completely different approach to it but Flame nonetheless. Irwyn could not feel it all by magic alone in all the noise and ambience… but he had another way. Though he had rarely ever done so in recent memory, Irwyn had not forgotten that he could feel flames with natural ease – even if he had scarcely ever tested it on unnatural ones. Therefore, he tapped into those senses. It became blatantly and abundantly clear just how fundamentally different and on another level these Flames were compared to his merely intention-imbued magic. It was like comparing rough cotton to velvet or silk.

And that Flame burned the entire corridor the spell had been cast into. But the Flame also raged and… was unleashed? Irwyn wasn’t completely sure but it had to be close to that. Then there was something like a cycle, maybe patience – a concept that encouraged and empowered careful and precise bursts of incredible power rather than repetitive casting. That made four concepts in total but Irwyn thought there were more… He just had no clue what they were or how many it might be. Either something more distant from flames or uncovering more layers became increasingly difficult with each.

Additionally, Irwyn could also feel that the Flames reached even farther than just line of sight, incinerating the undead a good distance further into the spiral’s gradual bend. Well, not really burning anymore because anything that had been caught up in the original surge was already ash and nothing else was willing to enter the blaze for obvious reasons. The spell was cut short soon afterwards. Embers and raw heat remained in the corridor through the enchanted tungsten had not melted nor caught on fire. But just heat was not enough. The undead would rush at them again in moments. That was when Old Hummingbird began singing again. The same dirge, the same notes if slightly different words. No doubt that would make their approach more difficult. Irwyn waited, eyes darting both ways as he anticipated the rest of the tide…

Which did not come. After a few seconds the Fowl stopped singing with a deep frown as not a single abomination approached them.

“They are sending fodder to exhaust us,” the Hummingbird said after a moment. “We have faced no serious spellcasting yet. Has anyone seen anything with more than two concepts?”

“Not seen so far,” the young inquisitor shook their head which was mirrored by most of their group. “Maybe the Singer who attacked us on the 4th floor but they had kept far out of sight or harm.”

“Whatever had killed the artificer,” Ibis opinioned. “But that might have also just run afterwards before being spotted and is recovering now from the expenditure."

“It’s attrition again,” Irwyn sighed. Indeed, it had been strange that they were basically winning. Yes, their group had many of the best conception mages in Abonisle… but not nearly all of them. He had been rather unhappy to find out that most of the conception mages were in fact missing. Which meant that some if not most would be here fighting for the other side.

“It’s not all bad,” Old Hummingbird spoke. “I don’t think they have enough actual necromancers.”

“What do you mean?” Elizabeth asked.

“Usually, I would expect more powerful spells from this number of Draugr,” the Fowl explained. “Far more in fact. These have basically all been conception mages in life – even if on the weaker side – so even in death, there would be more to them than just slightly tougher undead. But they are not doing that. Barely any magic above intentions and even that only on small scale.”

“How does that relate to necromancers?” Irwyn was puzzled though many of the other people had more thoughtful expressions.

“Undead do not have a living brain to anchor their souls,” the young inquisitor spoke. “Ergo, they require an alternative which uses up power. A lot of power for Draugr or worse undead. That means that this power has to be either provided by a necromancer or by the undead themselves to sustain their very existence.”

“And most undead are raised with crippled Vessels and Reservoirs which reduces how much mana they can actually draw,” Old Hummingbird added. “Not to mention the average Draugr does not have the expertise to be efficient in doing so. As a result, they can only use a fraction of their theoretical power, as I suspect has been the case with most of what we have encountered so far.”

“That only means that they are saving their true power for when we are tired,” the erasure Void mage spoke with a deep frown.

“There is little that can be done about that,” the Fowl leading them shrugged. “And this is still a much better result than the alternative of fighting everything at full power. Either way, let’s…”

And just as he was about to finish the word someone coughed. People looked at the back of their formation at the distraction to see it was one of the younger officers. Then they coughed again. Then began choking on their own coughs as the other two people near them had a similar reaction, the old fall officer included. It was as if…

“Poison,” the Singing man said it confidently before Irwyn even properly formed the conclusion. “Flame barriers, behind and ahead, now!”

Not even a split-second later, walls of Flame rose around them. It was not Irwyn but rather the Flame officer who reacted before the young mage started to so much as gather his own mana.

“Calm down. Everyone filter the air you breathe with magic if you can,” the erasure Void officer approached, manifesting a veil of Void magic over his mouth and nose. Irwyn copied him, though wasn’t really sure what he was doing and ended up instead cutting out all air at first before realizing he needed to make the mask more porous while asking it to burn the in-between. His Flames were magical and did not inherently require air to burn nor did they consume any to sustain themselves… but if he put too much power into it the air itself would combust not leaving anything breathable. It was a bit of a balance and Irwyn had doubts about how effective it would be against the airborne poison but it was probably better than nothing.

“The diagnostic enchantments have no idea what it is,” the erasure Void mage - Irwyn really wished he had remembered their name because it was becoming a mouthful to repeat in his head - announced. The three affected mages did not reply on account of a coughing fit severe enough they struggled to breathe.

“I cannot know what it is,” Old Ibis added. “But I can tell they have perhaps ten minutes to live at this pace. And that is just survival, not what state that would leave them in.”

“Is there any facility with better equipment within reach?” Hummingbird asked the crowd. “Applying stitching is as likely to kill them as to help.”

“The lower infirmary is on the 20th floor,” the old Flame mage – again, damn Irwyn’s name memory – did not frown on account of already having his brows deeply furrowed. “And that has probably been sabotaged anyway.”

“There is one,” Elizabeth interjected “There is a secret panic room nearby. It should have Time stopper antidotes if not outright panaceas.”

“Where?”

“Go up, I will tell you when to stop,” Elizabeth said and shot Irwyn a meaningful glance.

Well, it was a better excuse than the one they had planned. Irwyn was, in fact, aware of this panic room. They had discussed it back at the start of the incursion hours ago while still protected within powerful privacy magic. They were always going to visit it but this was a reason that would raise no eyebrows. The undead did almost certainly have a mind reader after all. Only Elizabeth and Irwyn could be considered beyond reach due to the protective cords provided by Dervish.

Old Hummingbird stared at Elizabeth for a moment but did not argue. Flames moved along with them to burn away any more of the poison. They were still careful when passing by the doorway of the 8th floor but they had certainly gone faster than before. The three hurt mages could not stand and were therefore carried. Irwyn had volunteered to make for them secure stretchers of solid light since he was not doing much with his already full Vessel anyway.

Irwyn’s nerves were honestly strung up as they reached the door to the ninth floor. And while they were passing it. He was expecting another attack until the last second, however, one never came. They passed the ninth floor without a problem. Elizabeth stopped them halfway to the 10th. She approached the inner wall and began to pace up and down with her hand passing over it. It took her some dozen seconds but eventually, the insignia ring which she had put on her finger began to softly glow. She moved it around as the glow strengthened and weakened and when she found the spot with the brightest light, she pressed her hand into it.

The seamless tungsten sunk inwards and a moment later a small doorway revealed itself. There had been not the slightest trace of anything Irwyn could detect or see in the enchantment and based on the rather amazed expressions on a few of the others they likely couldn’t feel anything either despite knowing that something was hidden right here.

“Enter, quickly,” Elizabeth spoke and no one argued. The inside of the ‘panic room’ reminded Irwyn more of a mansion. And of a kaleidoscope. Pink and ridiculously fluffy carpets covered the floor… but the couches were green, the walls painted blue, the ceiling vermillion. And the rest of the furniture was a mix of many, many diverse colors. The only shade Irwyn noticed distinctly missing was the ebony which he had grown so used to in anything Blackburg related.”

“This reminds me of the rumor that the Duchess secretly hates black and finds any excuse she can to use more vibrant colors,” the old Flame mage muttered as they got inside, glancing at Elizabeth.

“The infirmary should be on the left,” Elizabeth ignored the half-question as she closed the door behind them. “I have no idea what or how to use the devices inside, someone should take over.”

“I will,” the Erasure Void mage spoke, taking over Irwyn’s body lugging duty with a careful switch to the officer’s own platforms of solid Void then took them over to the room Elizabeth had pointed out. The young inquisitor followed them. Everyone else took it as an opportunity to relax and recover, if only briefly.

“To the right is the kitchen. There should be meals preserved,” Elizabeth said, looking over at Old Hummingbird. “We should have 5 minutes to spare.”

“As you say,” the Fowl nodded. “It will likely take at least as long to help the wounded anyway.”

She nodded to that and then glanced at Irwyn. She did not need to beckon for him to follow her to a corner of the room. The main lobby was… not large but spacious enough that they had relative privacy despite the number of people around. Elizabeth passed her hand over the wall before leaning against it and Irwyn followed suit. A bit of sleight of hand as Elizabeth had just opened a small barely visible socket with the motion.

“How are you holding up?” she asked, glancing at it though Irwyn did not need further instruction. There was no magic that he could sense from it. The socket looked just like a small dent in the wall but Irwyn was already feeling his way around to nonchalantly touch it.

“I am alright,” he shrugged, finally finding the socket with his elbow as the hand came back down from the motion. He had to suppress a twitch as soon as he touched it. It was from a buzzing, numbing sensation. Not quite pain but almost. Because there was power coursing through it. Ridiculous quantities of raw mana. Far more than Irwyn could possibly use productively. But he didn’t need to. He grabbed Elizabeth’s wrist in what could be misunderstood as an overly intimate gesture, touching the long sleeve her dress. Then he began to channel as much of that power as he could into it. “I should be asking about you, however. You are far more attached to Abonisle than me.”

“Not as much as you would think,” she slightly shrugged, careful to not break the link. Old Ibis had a point after all: If Elizabeth had done this by herself it could have probably been divined. Predicted. With Irwyn acting as an intermediary? Even if the room’s wards could be seen through it would not be enough to expose the plan they had concocted. Reaching the 15th floor was, after all, simply not a reasonable goal. “Things always fade away. Then they are rebuilt, changed… or simply remain broken.”

“I would argue that some reliable fixtures go a long way towards improving your life,” Irwyn replied. They might be misdirecting from what they were actually doing for any possibility of a mind reader actively influencing the others… but that didn’t mean the conversation wouldn’t be honest. “A wise old man once told me that people require a comforting certainty in at least some things in life. Ideally several.”

“Those are not so easy to obtain,” Elizabeth replied. “And even harder to maintain.”

“Perhaps you just forget them,” Irwyn argued. “Take them for granted. But they are still there, even for you. Take wealth for example. You have a certainty that you will not starve or ever want for coin.”

“I… suppose you have a point,” she conceded after a moment. “But I am not sure if it helps.”

“I am sure there are other things…” Irwyn said immediately. “Fixtured that at least some comfort can be drawn from. Though perhaps the middle of an undead incursion is not the best time to tally them.”

“Yes... per…” Elizabeth spoke but was interrupted by a loud clank as a door was forcefully pushed open. Everyone in the room tensed or outright got ready for battle. Elizabeth had almost instinctively snapped away though Irwyn had managed to hold her hand in place, the dress still connected to the mana source by his increasingly smarting hand.

The origin of the noise was, in fact, the entrance of the medical room. The young inquisitor had been pushed back through it with some force as the man barely managed to keep balance after a few steps backwards. Then he scoffed and turned around, pointedly ignoring everyone’s glares. He was followed by the erasure Void mage as well as the three formerly poisoned men, now back on their feet and walking out, though they were staring strange glances at the senior officer who had just helped them. Irwyn had not noticed any tension between the two prior so had no real idea what that had been about.

“Magical acid melting the lungs while feeding off of the victim’s Vessel,” the man announced, also ignoring any glances questioning the altercation. “I have applied Stasis antidotes and specialized stitching equipment. It should hold them together for half a day at least. I have also withdrawn enough stasis antidote for the rest of us as well as borrowed some of the equipment and supplies.”

“We can distribute it on the way,” Old Hummingbird nodded. “We should get going as quickly as possible nonetheless.”

“Before then, everyone gather,” Elizabeth commanded, beckoning their whole group with her free hand. “Closer. Hold hands if you would,” that raised some eyebrows though everyone reluctantly followed the instruction. Elizabeth hurried along. “Irene, you right next to me, close the gap,” she spoke and the Time mage translocationist moved over. Good to know their name now, though Irwyn was pretty sure he would forget it in the next few minutes.

“There is something important to speak about,” Irwyn said. “There is most likely a powerful mind reader in Abonisle,” or at least everything suggested there was. “They might be reading your thoughts even here,” and Irwyn and Elizabeth were for the moment the most immune to such things.

“Therefore, play along,” she took a deep breath, then spoke the real command: “Assist the teleportation if you can and DO NOT resist it.”

The course of power through Irwyn’s arm doubled, then rose further until he lost too much feeling in it to estimate by how much. A pinch of extreme pain had struck him before he lost all sensation in that arm… Then Space shifted and they were somewhere else.

Elizabeth’s dress was, without a doubt, an incredible artifact. The issue was that teleportation simply required far too much power without the Beacon active – Finity’s impact was brutal on anything remotely long distance. More mana than the dress was designed to store long term. Orders of magnitude more than she or Irwyn could reasonably provide from their Vessel. But it was very much capable of teleportation, including into deeply restricted areas through countless wards that would likely kill most Time mages trying to enter without the qualifications.

Which was the basis of their plan from the start. Lie to everyone to deceive the mind readers… make them believe that their group was indeed aiming for the 15th floor. The undead just loved attrition after all. Adored deaths by thousand cuts. And it could be used against them. Because if they were planning to stop them just before the final floor, they were holding back perhaps the majority of their real firepower while they reached the panic room.

Now they stood in a familiar room. Of course, last time Irwyn had been here he had no idea it was right below the Spires. A single door led out into what Irwyn knew was a long hallway as the surrounding Void magic grew thicker and thicker.

“Run! That way,” Elizabeth commanded, already taking off. Irwyn still couldn’t feel his hand but immediately followed, merely checking to see if it was actually still there. A glance confirmed that it was bleeding relatively profusely but not enough that he would bleed out in minutes. He made himself a splint of solid flames, then refocused on sprinting.

He was still the last at the next gate despite having the advantage of not being surprised. And he was also winded which only redoubled his promise to focus on more physical exercise. The only other person not an order of magnitude more fit than him was the civilian translocationist. When the second door opened it revealed a familiar sight. That of a viewing platform and beyond it:

The Dredge.

Because this was the Duchy of Black. Teleportation was not the only way of long-distance transportation. With the Temporal Beacon it was by far the easiest but with it disabled there was another way to get an elite squad across large distances. They could travel directly through the Void. Where the laws of Time/Space grew looser. Distance unimportant. In the infinite blackness where one step could take a careless traveler a plane away. And while the Duchy of Black did not have the best Time mages by a long shot… no other Duchy could even compare with their Void mages.

The only issue then was location. Because the Void was incomprehensibly vast and rendered distance meaningless, traversing through it - at least according to the quick explanation Irwyn had received - was no longer a problem of speed but a problem of directions. Because how does one find a single needle in an infinite haystack? The answer was that some locations simply ‘shone’ in specific ways. A skilled mage could get where they wanted with precision if the place was ‘bright’ enough. And it so happened that the Lake around Abonisle was the single most distinct landmark of their entire plane.

That was where the Dredge became their problem. Usually, the massive magical formation simply dragged everything that tried to leave the Void in a large vicinity around the city into a singular spot, be it debris or denizens… but it could do more than that. At a significant and gradually increasing cost it was able to completely obscure the metaphorical lighthouse that the city was. Though making that decision required great authority and reversing it would take even more.

The Heiress of House Blackburg almost slid across the ground where near the floor she quickly found a hidden panel. She inserted her ring and tapped across it, though Irwyn, still winded, could not see what exactly. A moment later a strange wooden glove similar to the one Elizabeth had used earlier in the day to overwrite the military landline appeared. Without hesitation, she immediately stuck her hand into it, grimaced, then continued tapping.

“Something big incoming!” the Ibis shouted, pointing at an empty spot. Less than half a minute could have passed since they had made their play. It looked like time was already out.

The next moment, a skeleton appeared where the Fowl was pointing. It was… visibly damaged. Impossibly clean cuts had bitten into its bones, not that the undead seemed to care. A baleful white glow escaped the sockets of its ivory skull. Irwyn thought it might have been a price of forcing their way here through space.

“A Ravener! Brace!” Hummingbird yelled, jumping back. Some others were already casting… and yet.

“Die,” the being spoke a single word. It was impossibly quick, faster than a blink of an eye. And yet it was clearly audible. Unignorable. It decreed and its target died. The old officer who felt like an endless fall was in the middle of casting a spell… then just stopped.

“Die, Die,” it spoke again. A young officer immediately ceased their spell and obeyed the irrefutable magical command. The other target was the Ibis who, somehow, managed to cast some kind of spell that seemed to have resulted in an unconscious collapse rather than instant death.

And the Ravener was about to speak again when a massive surge of Void magic took Irwyn off his feet, rupturing his barriers of Starfire in the process. Such was its force that the enchanted glass of the observation platform shattered, still leaving enough physical force to make Irwyn fly for a moment before he caught himself with solid Flames. Not Light, because Irwyn was pretty sure it was not even possible to summon Light in this much ambient Void magic. His skin crawled and burned, and as Irwyn had discovered, although he might be immune to Flame and heat, there were other ways of being scorched. Though the pain was not so intense he could not ignore it in favor of more important circumstances.

Irwyn looked over at the undead Ravener… and realized it was no longer standing. He couldn’t have had his eyes off of it for more than a second, yet all that was left of it was a skull. A skull held tightly in capable hands adorned in gloves. Its baleful soul raged and tried to escape its self-imposed prison through death but the person holding it refused to let go. Irwyn could not spare any of his mind for such thoughts though. He stared at the man who had just appeared. And they were so foreign yet also so familiar. Months ago, Irwyn had seen this person and thought them a living shadow. After all the improvements he had attained in magic and expanding his knowledge, he realized how utterly wrong he had been.

A shadow implied a lack of light. Mere darkness that could be dispersed. The man standing before them now was a Reflection of the Void given flesh. A perfect image of formed nothingness. An undeniable representation of a spaceless infinity. And it stared at Irwyn balefully with its bottomless black eyes.

For how could a mere mask protect him from the sight of a living demigod?

“Shadow of house Blackburg, code name Oxen, reporting to her Young Ladyship Elizabeth von Blackburg,” the ‘man’ spoke, though his eyes never left Irwyn. “Seven Domain mages have just entered Abonisle and have already moved to relieve Shadow Dervish. Barring any extreme surprises, the situation should be stabilized in the following quarter hour. I shall remain here to ensure your safety as well as keep the Lich’s soul from fleeing. Now, if you would please surrender the criminal.”

“You are speaking of a man who had played a vital part in saving Abonisle from the undead incursion,” Elizabeth walked over so she could stand next to Irwyn. She was visibly shaken but managed to make her voice sound confident. No one else dared so much as breathe loudly. “In the name of House Blackburg, he is under my protection."

“Yet I have irrefutable orders to arrest this man on sight. Also in the name of House Blackburg,” the mage spoke, a frown appearing.

“Then I suppose,” Elizabeth smiled weakly. “House Blackburg has a Matter of dispute.”