Yet Broken Still You Breathe

Chapter 43

"But since you have suffered with me, you will forgive me both for what I did, and what I do now, touching you with unholy hands - at once your cruellest enemy and your dearest lover." - Euripides, The Bacchae

The creature tore through the dark streets, driven only by the ceaseless song echoing in its mind. Buildings and alleys blurred past in a haze, the ceaseless song that echoed in its mind driving it forward, propelling it with preternatural speed. Some buried part of it recoiled at the wanton destruction it left in its wake - smashed market stalls, fearful cries fading into the distance. But the Archdemon's call drowned out all else, it would go to any lengths to protect its master.

The Darkspawn parted like a foul sea, sensing an unspoken kinship in its twisted form and offering no hindrance. It dodged debris that littered the path - overturned carts, fallen banners - leaping with predatory grace over the obstacles wrought by panic and destruction.

Up ahead, Fort Drakon loomed like a stalwart sentinel amidst the chaos, and with a surge of unnatural speed, it tore through the stone halls. Its mind was focused on the only goal it could think of; find the Archdemon and slay its attackers.

It burst out upon the battlements, an intense battle raging, the air crackling with magic, metal, and might. A dark-haired elf led the charge, curls plastered to his forehead, weaving through the fray, a blade in each hand. Every strike carried the weight of his determination, his lithe figure moving not just to survive but to end the Archdemon's reign once and for all.

A tall human fought a couple of paces behind the elf. He was the embodiment of resolute strength, standing his ground, his muscular frame a bulwark against the tide of darkness. His sword swept through the air, cleaving a path of resistance against the Archdemon's minions.

A flash of golden hair matted with sweat and blood, caught the creature's gaze as another elf weaved in and out of danger. He struck with lethal elegance, his twin daggers finding weak spots with the precision of a seasoned assassin.

At the far edge of the battlefield, an elder mage's robes billowed as she chanted incantations, her hands weaving the fabric of protective spells around her companions. Her voice commanded the expanse with the authority of a sage, guiding their defence against the overwhelming dark.

And there, fighting with a loyalty born of love rather than obligation, a Mabari snarled and lunged, his teeth sinking into the flesh of any Darkspawn foolish enough to come within reach. He was more than a mere hound; he was a protector, a companion whose bravery knew no bounds.

Above them all, the Archdemon belched fire and fury, its wings casting shadows over the defenders. Its roar shook through the earth, a challenge that was met with the combined resolve of those who dared to stand against the end of all they held dear.

The creature watched from the shadows, muscles tensed, as the struggle unfolded between its would-be brethren and the group of valiant fighters. Bound by unseen chains, the creature found itself caught in the throes of a war far more pressing than the one raging before its eyes - a battle for the soul.

A cacophony of clashing steel and guttural roars filled the air, yet within the creature, there was a silence, a still moment of conflict where two wills warred for dominance.

Its eyes, ablaze with a feral glow, locked onto the group fighting at the heart of the battle. It could sense the human's presence, his brown eyes were steely pools of resolve, but behind them flickered the soft flame of humour that had always been his shield against the dark. Even now, as he swung his sword in wide arcs, a quip danced on his lips, and the creature leaned into every word, though it understood nothing.