Rising Ashes

Gnawing on the Bishops

Clancy stood in the center of the Bandito camp, his eyes narrowing as he prepared for what was to come. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting long shadows over the barren landscape. The air was thick with tension, and the remaining Banditos were gathering their weapons, gearing up for the battle ahead. Clancy’s heart raced, the weight of the moment pressing down on him, but his resolve was unwavering.

He gripped the NED antlers tightly in his hands, feeling the familiar hum of power coursing through them. The plan was risky—perhaps even suicidal—but Clancy didn’t care. Aimee was in Dema, and he wasn’t going to let her stay there any longer. He could still feel the haunting pull of what he had seen through the vulture’s eyes. The image of Aimee dressed in the Bishops' robes, lifeless and broken, burned in his mind.

He couldn’t let her become another puppet in their twisted system. Not her.

"Are we really doing this?" Torch asked, stepping up beside him. His voice was quiet but resolute, though there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

Clancy nodded without hesitation. "We’re going in. Dema’s not invincible. It never was." His voice was sharp, full of the urgency he felt. "They’ve taken too much from us already, and I’m not about to let them take Aimee. Not like this."

Torch’s gaze flickered to the other Banditos, some of whom were arming themselves with makeshift weapons, others with the grim knowledge that they might not survive the night. "But the Bishops… they’re going to be waiting for us. And you know what Aimee is now… what she’s become."

"She’s not one of them," Clancy said sharply, cutting him off. "Not yet. I’ve seen her—she’s still fighting. We just have to get to her before they break her completely."

Torch hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright. We’ll follow you."

Clancy strapped the NED antlers across his back, his eyes scanning the camp one last time. The Banditos were a ragtag group, but they were all he had. And they were willing to fight.

He turned to address them, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. "We’ve been running from Dema for too long. Tonight, that ends. We’re going into the city, and we’re bringing Aimee back. But listen—this isn’t just about her. It’s about all of us. We’ve lost too many to them. Keons. Mara. The rest. They think they can keep taking from us, but we’re going to show them they’re wrong."

There were murmurs of agreement, though the fear was palpable. The Bishops were not a force to be taken lightly, and everyone knew it. But Clancy’s resolve was enough to spark hope in the hearts of the Banditos. They had followed him this far—there was no turning back now.

The beat of drums began, faint at first, but growing louder as more Banditos joined in, a primal rhythm that matched the intensity of the moment. It was the heartbeat of the rebellion. The music of defiance.

Clancy’s gaze hardened, his mind set on Aimee. "We move out at dawn," he commanded. "Be ready. This ends at Dema."

As the camp prepared for the march, Clancy stood on the outskirts, staring toward the distant city. Dema loomed on the horizon, its towers casting long shadows over the barren plains. He could almost feel its oppressive pull—the way it tried to crush hope, to break the spirit of anyone who dared resist.

But tonight, Dema would face something different.

Clancy looked down at his hands, the NED antlers glowing faintly. The telekinetic power within them was his only advantage against the Bishops. They could move things with their minds; so could he, even if he needed the antlers to do it.

It didn’t matter. He’d use whatever tools he had. He would stop at nothing.

"I’m coming, Aimee," he whispered, his voice low but determined. "I’m not leaving you in there. Not again."