These Hallowed Bones - [Monster Evolution, Dark Fantasy, Heroic Undead]

The day bleeds into hours, and though the night gives way to day, there is no light, just an endless expanse of grey that cracks with lightning and storm.

Thunder rolls across the Field of Broken Banners, but it carries no rain. Only the promise of violence.

I remain motionless against Haven's walls, twenty-five feet of divine bone weathering the supernatural tempest. Lightning splits the sky in patterns that spell corruption, each flash revealing shapes moving through the mist.

The Drowned Kingdom's true assault begins.

Not with hordes of barnacled dead, but with the storm itself. Water rises from streams that should run dry, black torrents pouring from underground channels, bubbling up to flood the plains.

My wings spread wider, bone-shadow sheltering Haven's eastern gate as the first wave crashes against stone foundations.

"They're flooding the approaches," Commander Ikert shouts over the thunder, her voice barely carrying to my position.

I already know. Through fragments scattered across distant battlefields, I feel the coordinated nature of this attack. The Wild Hunt encounters rising waters while the Graveking's legion faces similar obstacles as the march toward the Endless Rot slows.

All fronts under assault simultaneously.

Water rises beneath my feet.

First a dark seepage through soil already saturated by ancient blood. Then rivulets threading between bones and stone fragments scattered across the Field of Broken Banners.

The trickle becomes a stream.

The stream becomes a torrent.

Black water surges from every crack in the earth, pouring upward as if the underworld itself pours forth corruption onto mortal ground. The liquid carries the stench of deep places, of things that died in crushing darkness and never found rest.

Within minutes, the flood reaches my ankles. The water climbs faster, flooding, a magical thing defying natural order as it rises, first a foot, then three, then six.

Haven's walls remain above the water. But the approaches, every road and path that once led to the gates, disappear beneath roiling blackness.

The Hallowed Legion stands unmoved in formation, skeletal warriors immune to drowning. Those not on walls now stand neck-deep in corrupted tide. Their discipline holds even as the water reaches their ribcages.

Inside Haven, apprentices drag sacks of dried salted cloth to the gatehouse and rip them open in white clouds.

Temple acolytes chant short warding phrases while spreading the powder across floor seams.

When the salt meets seepage, it hisses and turns back the first of the water that comes through and fills the leaking spots.

I watch the flood spread outward, claiming miles of territory in moments. This is no mere assault on Haven, but transformation of the entire battlefield into a domain.

The water brings passengers.

Shapes move beneath the surface, pale forms gliding through liquid darkness with predatory grace. Barnacled horrors emerge at the edges of vision, their corrupted flesh perfectly adapted to this unnatural sea.

Thunder crashes again, and I realize it carries voices. Hundreds of damned things bound to the waves and waters that come.

I focus through the eye-fires of a forward cohort now fully submerged. Darkness reigns below, but my sight is memory of starlight, unhindered by depth.

Barnacled revenants glide forward alongside fishmen, mouths unhinged.

Those submerged in the legion respond, shield edges become cleavers, bronze points flash blue as I pour Lethe's chill through iron. Bubbles boil where monsters meet undead.

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Limbs drift upward, twisting in currents I do not feel.

The water rises higher.

Through my link with the Graveking, I glimpse his legion stumbling in chest-deep flood far to the south.

He plants his sword in the mud, ordering phalanx lines to lock shields overhead like crude rafts.

The legion marches anyway, turning shield roofs into barges that shove against the black tide.

Nine feet deep across the plains, lapping at my thighs despite my divine stature. The Hallowed Legion maintains position though only skulls remain above the surface.

My wings spread wider, bone-shadow darkening the already grey sky. Blue flame burns brighter along every plate and ridge, a beacon of defiance against the encroaching tide.

From Haven's walls, Commander Ikert's voice carries over the chaos: "Champion! The eastern tower reports movement beneath the water!"

I already know.

Something vast approaches through the depths, its displacement creating currents that ripple against my legs. The herald was merely an advance scout.

The Drowned Kingdom sends its true strength.

The water reaches twelve feet, and I prepare for war.

Leviathans pulled from ocean depths, their massive forms sliding through flood waters.

I remain where duty placed me.

The water still climbs and through the black tide come the boats.

Dozens of vessels cutting through corrupted waters, their hulls fashioned from bones of sea creatures and bound with sinew.

Oars churn forward, driven by the barnacled horrors.

I count thirty craft in the first wave. Each carries twenty warriors of the Drowned Kingdom, their armor fused with coral growths.

They stand on the rolling deck, weapons raised toward Haven's walls.

The boats spread in attack formation, flanking wide to assault the walls from multiple angles. Their commanders know siege warfare, adapting naval tactics to this artificial sea.

Behind the first wave, larger vessels emerge from the mist. War barges carrying siege towers, their heights designed to reach Haven's ramparts despite the flood.

The Hallowed Legion waits beneath the surface, only the tips of spears and the tops of skulls visible above the tide.

Of the Wild Hunt and the Graveking the connection is not severed, only muted.

I press deeper into distant bonds seeking confirmation. For a heartbeat the Hunt's alpha-howl breaches the storm.

"We bleed the sea."

The message is metaphor, but I parse intent: they flank the flood, harrying whatever power sustains its inland reach.

An echo from the Graveking follows. "Rising rot delays, not defeats. We press."

Assurance enough. I release the link, return wholly to the gate.

The first boats reach Haven's outer approach. Barnacled warriors leap from prows, their coral armor scraping against submerged stone. They wade through chest-deep water, weapons raised.

They step onto the Hallowed Legion.

Skeletal hands erupt from the black tide, grasping ankles and dragging invaders down. Bronze spears thrust upward through the water, piercing barnacled flesh. The Legion attacks from below, invisible until the moment of killing.

Warriors topple, gurgling screams mixing with battle cries as they discover Haven's submerged defenders.

The larger war barges accelerate, their commanders recognizing the trap. Siege towers loom through mist as they advance toward Haven's walls.

I step forward into deeper water.

Time to meet them.

The lead boat approaches my position, its captain standing at the prow with trident raised. Barnacles encrust his face where flesh once was, creating a grotesque mask of living coral.

He is lesser than the Herald I've already killed.

He speaks, voice carrying over water. "Dead thing! The tide claims all lands. Yield the settlement, and your bones may find honor in our depths."

I draw Aeternus, twenty-five feet of divine blade with blue flame along its edge.

The captain's laugh bubbles through corrupted lungs. "Defiance, then. The Deep King expected no less."

He raises his trident, and every boat surges forward at once. Oars churn faster, creating whirlpools that drag debris into their wake. War cries echo across the artificial sea, hundreds of drowned voices calling for Haven's destruction.

The first vessel reaches my position.

I step forward, divine weight creating massive waves that rock every boat within fifty yards. Water explodes outward as Aeternus sweeps down, cleaving through hull and crew in a single stroke.

Ichor sprays across the flood.

Beyond the boats, a lone bell tolls from deep within Haven, three hard rings that signal emergency muster.

Bronze, Silver, and Gold banners snap as guild captains herd reserves onto the inner wall.

Every spare spear angles outward, ready to strike the moment a barge grounds against stone.

I stride deeper into the flood, each step sending waves crashing against enemy hulls. The second barge reaches striking distance, its siege tower looming above corrupted waters.

Aeternus sweeps in a wide arc, divine flame trailing through mist. The blade parts wood and bone alike, sending half the vessel spinning into darkness. Barnacled warriors tumble into churning water where the Hallowed Legion waits.

Spears thrust upward, claiming the fallen.

A third boat flanks wide, trying to reach Haven's walls while I engage their vanguard. Its captain shouts orders through a throat encrusted with coral growths.

I pivot, wings spreading for balance as the flood reaches my waist. Water displacement alone capsizes the nearest craft, hurling crew into the Legion's embrace below.

The flanking vessel draws closer to Haven's stones.

"Not today," I growl, the words carrying divine authority across artificial seas.

I lean forward, driving through deeper water with inexorable momentum. Each stride covers impossible distance, closing the gap before their siege tower can deploy.

The bones will hold.

The war begins.