The Obsidian Empire

Chapter 17: Divine's Mistake

Walls of violet flames scorch the floors in arrays that Dumaine can only dodge and not counter. He talks a big game about his capabilities as a mage, but Verrona has been a magister for years now. He's only been one for a few days. She has no doubt had time to hone her power. And now that he knows she practices spirit magic, he admits to feeling a bit more than outmatched.

But he has to try.

Dumaine lunges out of the path of her next electric flames that cast his way and aims his staff at her, releasing a red ball of fire at her that she easily deflects with a wall of stone that she raises from the ground.

In the brief moment he's given, he throws a glance to the glass ceiling. The sky is getting brighter. He needs to hurry.

He snaps his focus back to Verrona and raises his staff in preparation as she drops the stone wall.

"How long have you been worshipping Artegal?" he demands. "And acting as yet another of his pawns?"

Verrona tisks and swings her staff through the air in front of her, releasing a sweep of violet lightning towards Dumaine. He throws his hand up in time to block it with a ward.

"Does it matter? It's always the same story," she narrows her eyes at him. "You become part of the Magisterium, and you get a hunger. For more. For power. And only He can provide the cure," she growls and snaps her hand towards him, shooting out a spike of ice.

Dumaine pivots and turns out of the way to let the ice shatter against the wall behind him, turning to face the woman again as she smiles at him.

"But you're a magister now too. Soon you'll understand for yourself."

The mage scoffs. "Does that mean you plan to let me walk away from this?"

Verrona chuckles venomously and bites her lip. "I suppose that depends on if you're willing to allow me any alternatives," she cocks her head to the side innocently. "So what will it be, Dumaine?"

He just scoffs and shakes his head bitterly. "Hm... Let me think," he feigns contemplation. "You killed my father and framed the Hollow. It's because of you that he's going to be executed. It's because of you that I'm a magister. You just tried to turn Etho into a demon. And not to mention that you've been having your Mimics spy on me since the Hollow Year began, leading me to believe that it was my spiteful father the whole time," the mage scoffs and readies his staff again. "This whole time, it's been you."

Verrona chuckles. "So where does that leave us?"

Dumaine's glare sharpens as he prepares for what he's getting himself into.

"I can't let you walk away this time, Ver."

And Verrona just sighs longingly, lifting her own staff. "I was hoping you'd say that."

Llwell thought the night would feel endless. That in his final moments, time would stand still around him. But it was as if he blinked, and morning was upon Tessiavar. He should feel more afraid, but after the hell behind him since coming to this kingdom, he admits to feeling some semblance of relief at knowing that it will soon be over.

But the fears that he does have aren't for himself. It's for Etho. And Bella. Rosanhi and Sillavanna. The Restoration and all of the people they have fought to protect. Soon it will all be gone, and they'll be left to fend for themselves in a Hollow Year with no Hollow. No divine savior.

His fears are for Ysve.

So he prays to whatever gods or goddesses that might hear him that the amulet's message is true. That wherever she is, she is safe. He has to believe it with as little faith he has left.