⑄ 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚠'𝚜 𝚓𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚕 ⑄

『 act IV: blotted sun 』

vantablack wings crashed through the windows, followed by enraged shrieking - nonhuman, gritty, almost torturous -

promptly interrupted by a golden dagger to the head.

a thud.

then silence.

the deity stood there for a moment, eye wide, hand shaking. the viper, who stood just behind her, looked over her shoulder.

"...so -"

"get your weapons," the deity sighed, closing her eyes in irritation, "Dusty, can you alert the others?"

the silver-haired girl nodded, running off and disappearing into another corridor. the viper moved to grab her grimoire, muttering a curse.

the deity pinched the bridge of her nose. "annoying."

.

.

.

gray, dead branches creaked to a halt under the weight of a creature made of pure muscle, followed by a painful shriek of snapping bark.

black, wispy fur disappeared, melting off into heavy boots, soaking into the dry ground. dark nails scraped against the infertile dirt, running up a gloved arm to tug the sleeve of a white dress shirt back.

'it's cold...is a storm coming?'

the silence was nearly deafening - a chill shot up the tall figure's spine. a long, catlike tail swished, bristling anxiously.

...

S H H I N G

the sound of a blade cutting through flesh was closely followed by a thud.

blackish-blue ichor dripped off a morbid cadaver. its head was severed clean, resting a good few feet away.

red eyes met cold amber, for a moment, before the sound of an axe dragging across limestone broke the silence.

the woman decked in leather and belts heaved her sword up over her shoulder. her eyes were tired.

"we should probably find Harmony."

"that would be smart."

.

.

.

bloody, oh GOD it was so bloody -

it had only been a few minutes, how were these creatures so resilient?!

golden hair had been stained blackish-bluish, the odd ichor running down scratched skin. it burned. it was disorienting.

the silver symbol of ice let out a growly roar, followed by hysterical - almost psychotic - laughter as she shattered her opponents.

the raven and the viper seemed to be having fun, sending waves of soul-stealing arrows across the yard and hitting their targets [almost] every time.

the ragdoll was swinging wildly, screaming with hysterical laughter over the sounds of dying shrieks.

it didn't alleviate the stress of each warrior being surrounded by about ten creatures each, though.

and it certainly didn't alleviate the stress of the sun being blotted out by battalions of black wings.