The Dark Lady steps into the Court of Anguish.
The air is thick with black fog, and echoes with the sound of explosions. Before her, countless Voidweavers are strewn across the area, battling with the Void Keep’s invaders.
She descends the colossal stone stairs as her hands swirl with magic. A mixture of golden light and black hues lace through her fingers, building itself into a larger sphere. When she reaches the cobblestone ground, she pauses to scan the area.
And then she throws her hands out in front of her.
Several groups of soldiers explode as her dark magic bombards them from all directions. Their screams rip through the air as their mangled bodies are catapulted across the courtyard, leaving only remnants of human flesh.
Her magic cracks through the sky like lightning hitting a tree as she targets more groups, sauntering across the grounds as she unleashes her wrath.
Flagg Parlington emerges from the Void Keep and stands at the top of the entrance, where the Dark Lady had been just minutes before. His eyes are wide with fear as he watches her execute the fighters, killing not only the invaders, but her own Voidweavers.
The sky flashes with a myriad of colors, the result of various Formulists casting their magic during the ensuing battle. Harsh, metallic clangs reverberate through Flagg’s ears as combatants wage war with their own deadly weapons. The invading soldiers are clad in silver armor, a stark contrast to the onyx-black material the Voidweavers wear.
Flagg watches as the Dark Lady’s slaughter continues through the battleground, clearing a path towards the cathedral. The building’s spires pierce high into the darkened sky, adding a foreboding shadow that drapes the distant earth.
The ground beneath Flagg shakes.
“Airships approaching!”
A booming horn bellows through the air as several monstrous machines rise from the edge of the land’s abyss like a waking behemoth. Flagg’s attention shifts from the Dark Lady to the massive artillery ships that are now churning through the air, obscuring any remaining light that still had the courage to illuminate this lifeless land. Their gargantuan wings jut out from each side, attached to large propellers that whirl, roaring out their deafening hum. The silver engines on the back of the steel ships leave behind contrails, marking the paths they’ve taken like an intricate treasure map.
Flagg takes a deep breath and runs into battle. As he draws his sword from its sheath, he spots Kingston Starmantle fighting a group of invading soldiers, several yards away. He rushes over, his face drenched with sweat beneath his helmet, and his heart pounding, intensifying with every step he takes.
Kingston swings his sword and executes the last soldier as Flagg arrives.
“What are you doing?” Kingston watches Flagg stand frozen in place.
His hands are clenched around his sword’s hilt, but his body refuses to move.
“Don’t just stand there! You need to—”
Whoosh!
Flagg jolts to life as Kingston crashes into the ground, spewing dirt and rubble into the air as he slides several feet before stopping. A soldier looms in front of him, his silver gauntlet outstretched and frosted with ice from the spell he just released.
“Ugh,” Kingston gasps, using his sword to steady himself to his knees.
The immense figure’s silver armor clangs as he lumbers towards him.
Flagg raises his sword and charges. The soldier turns his head to see Flagg, and brings up his hand. A blast of ice explodes from it in a shattered cacophony, and crashes into Flagg. His sword drops as he’s catapulted back across the court, and he slams against the stairs, knocking him unconscious.
The soldier looks back down at Kingston. “Get up.”
Kingston stays kneeling.
“Starmantle, get up.”
Kingston glares at the silver helmet, which is shaped like an owl’s head. He’s barely able to make out the eyes behind.
“I. Said. Get. Up!” The soldier swings his sword at Kingston.
Screeeeeeeeech!
Vin’jork’s sword blocks the soldier’s attack, and the soldier stumbles backward. Vin’jork looks down at Kingston, who sees his own face reflected in the bull’s horns of the black helmet.
“Go to the Cathedral.” Vin’jork turns back to face the soldier. “And leave me be.”
Kingston nods as he returns to his feet. He gives each soldier a onceover before disappearing into the waves of battle.
“I thought I’d be able to draw you out.” The silver soldier points his sword at Vin’jork. “But I didn’t think it was going to be that easy.”
“Hello, Rok’jin. It’s been a long time.” Vin’jork stands his ground. “If you came here hoping to make amends, I have no interest in doing so. Brother or not, I will kill you if necessary.”
“Well, then.” Rok’jin flashes a pearlescent smile as he gets into a battle stance. “Shall we begin?”
a
The Dark Lady reaches the cathedral and pushes open the black steel doors. Inside, the walls are lined with century-old torches, their orange flames glistening off the dusty marble floor. Chandeliers bathed in spider webs hang down the center aisle, equally spaced and running all the way to the altar. Although once majestic Baroque fixtures, only candles burnt down to waxy nubs remain.
As the Darky Lady proceeds, the arching ceilings twist high above, their inlays decorated with peeling designs unrecognizable after centuries of wear.
On the altar’s stairs stands a man.
“I feel as though it were just yesterday I set foot in here.” The man’s powerful voice fills every corner of the cathedral. “Time’s a funny thing.”
“To me it feels like a thousand lifetimes ago.” The Dark Lady’s words are hollow. She stops several feet from the man. “Lifetimes of imprisonment.”
He stands rigid, facing her. His bright blue eyes are the only warmth radiating within the cathedral, and the kindness in his face seems at odds with the layers of armor that encase his body. His short silver hair blows ever so slightly with the wisps of wind that manage to sneak into the sanctuary.
“Look at you.” He lifts his head as he scans the Dark Lady’s features.
A thin beam of light from the ceiling’s cracks illuminates the side of his face, displaying his sharp nose and prominent jaw. He places his gauntlet-cladded hand over his mouth and chin as his eyes fill with sorrow.
“What have you become?”
“Do not pity me, Dorndrick,” the Dark Lady spews. “Do not pretend that you care. My existence is the result of your betrayal, your failure to see the world as it justly is.”
“Your existence?” Dorndrick steps down from the altar. “Your existence? No, you misunderstand. I have no pity for you. But pity for what you have done. You stand here now in front of me as the Dark Lady, a creation from your own warped mind, driven to even further madness over the last ten years. Devoid of your true power, and slowly destroying the only thing left of Addisyn DeWinter.” Dorndrick scowls. “She should have just killed you.”
“But she couldn’t. And do you know why?” The Dark Lady gleams. “Because she was weak. She believed that morality existed, that all people were inherently good.” She scoffs. “There is nothing in the world that matters but power. Our entire existence is one person trying to get ahead of another. Whether it is eye for eye, or scheme by scheme, the measure of a man equates to his final status of dominance, not good deeds.”
“You didn’t always believe that,” Dorndrick says. “When I first met you—before the Dark Lady, before the Void King, before Gresalmur’s corruption—you shared Addisyn’s sentiment. I chose to mentor you for the good I saw, for the paladin I knew you could become.” He shakes his head. “It is my fault that you were lost. I blame no one but myself for that failure.”
“And therein lies your weakness, Dorndrick Wolfshire. Where did your moral compass get you but misery and pain?”
“I know what you’re doing. I know about the Binding Spell. You think there’s a chance you can return to your former body if you find Addisyn’s daughter? Well, we won’t let you. The Abolishment has taken arms once more, and we will watch you fail again.”
“Silence!” The Dark Lady’s shriek sheers past Dorndrick’s ears, and her body emits a shadowy glow as she rises into the air. “The Abolishment is nothing. Addisyn DeWinter is nothing. You are nothing.” Her eyes burn vibrant amethyst from behind the bird skull that adorns her head. “All that I am, all that I have built, all that I have accomplished within the last decade has been with my own identity. My own will, my own autonomy, my own control. Banewind speaks of me in whispers, for fear that I might at any moment destroy what precious life it has left. The Voidweavers return to take back what has always been ours, what has never belonged to anyone—to break the chains of order and structure, the false promise of freedom. The world will be born again from the throes of chaos, and life will be created as intended. The Binding Spell may have trapped me within Addisyn DeWinter’s body, but I can assure you that I, the Void King, am still very much alive. And I will be the one to triumph in a glorious return.”
A pillar of shadow erupts from her hands and hurls towards Dorndrick, just barely missing him as he rolls to the side. It crashes into the altar and ricochets, knocking one of the chandeliers from its chain. The light fixture clamors to the floor, shattering mere inches from Dorndrick’s legs.
Bright light bursts from his hands as he counters her attack. The Dark Lady nimbly spins to the side and sends out another barrage of shadows, painting the marble floor in dark, bubbling gloom. Dorndrick jumps to his feet and runs as he draws his sword from its sheath. He leaps high and strikes down with a mighty thrust.
The Dark Lady disappears as his sword lashes through the empty air, slamming into the floor with a deafening clang. He pivots around just in time to block the black shadow orb rushing toward him. With a swing of his sword, it explodes backwards and crashes into the Dark Lady, jarring the bird skull from her head, which clatters to the ground with a hollow echo that dissipates across the cathedral.
The Dark Lady’s cloak rustles as she drops back to the ground.
“I will break the Binding Spell, Dorndrick. And when I do, I will return to my body, and Addisyn will return to hers. And then I will kill her. And then I will kill you. And along the way, I will destroy everything that Banewind has ever come to know.”
“It must drive you mad to wake every morning and know you’re still a prisoner.” Dorndrick pants between words. “The once almighty Void King, trapped in his vanquisher’s body.” He stares into the face of Genevieve’s mother. “While somewhere out there, Addisyn DeWinter possesses yours, locked away in slumber. A constant reminder of your failure.”
The Dark Lady glares back, an amethyst glow still surrounding her blue eyes. Her blonde hair lays disheveled across her pale face. She walks over to the skull and picks it up in her gloved hand.
“You are here, no doubt, because you came in search of Felyx’s relic.” She positions the skull back on her head, once again hiding the features of Addisyn DeWinter. “Foolish of you to think I would leave it exposed.”
“I knew it would no longer be here the moment I learned you murdered him.” Dorndrick’s stoic expression morphs into a sardonic grin. “But after ten years, I wanted you to see I was still here, waiting, ready to raise arms once again. Until my dying breath, I will never allow you to return to your former self.”
“At one time, when you were my mentor, I would have found your bravery and tenacity something to admire.” The Dark Lady faces Dorndrick. “But now I see nothing but a frail fool.”
Kingston throws open the cathedral doors just as the Dark Lady’s magic tangles around Dorndrick. The dark tendrils grasp his armor, paralyzing him as she raises his body high into the air.
“Lamentable. Fragile. Worthless.” The Dark Lady’s voice resonates, each word dancing through the air like a demonic spell. “You are nothing. And you will always be nothing.”
Kingston stands helplessly in the middle of the aisle, his gaze fixated on the Dark Lady’s magic spilling out around her like a black steam billow. Dorndrick’s screams rip through Kingston’s ears, tying his stomach into a tighter knot with each intensifying cry.
“Yes. Feel the pain. The unmatched power of my spells. Let it consume you to the point of insanity. Yield to its command.”
“You…cannot…win,” Dorndrick roars, through gritted teeth. “I…will…never…yield…to…you!”
“Foolish paladin. Then you will die!”
The ground beneath Kingston’s feet starts to rumble. Rubble and dust fall from the ceiling, hitting the nearby pew. He raises his gaze and sees the cathedral’s rafters shaking. The doors burst open once more, and several Voidweaver soldiers rush in.
“Drago’kkoa!” one of them yells, his hysterical screams breaking through Dorndrick’s cries. “Dark Lady, Drago—”
The cathedral’s roof rips apart in a thunderous blast, the deafening sound nearly shattering Kingston’s body as he’s thrown to the floor by the sheer magnitude of the attack. The cathedral’s structure crumbles apart like brittle clay, spewing its contents to the ground in a shower of falling projectiles. Kingston’s eyes widen with fear as a large stone comes flailing down in his direction, giving him just mere seconds to roll to the side to avoid being crushed by the immense structure. The guards behind him leap into the nearest pew, clamoring underneath it to obtain any protection they can get.
A bloodcurdling, monstrous roar penetrates the night sky. Kingston stands petrified as a gigantic, shimmering claw rises high behind the cathedral’s back wall, like a zombie’s hand emerging from the grave. The sharp talons slam down into the stone, causing more of the foundation to crumble as the creature lifts itself into the cathedral. A massive reptilian head emerges from the night’s shadows as another claw grasps onto the other side of the wall. Its long neck protrudes into the cathedral, so enormous that not any other part of its body can be seen.
The creature looks down at the Dark Lady, who is still standing with Dorndrick strewn in the air. It raises its lips into a ferocious snarl and flashes its dagger-sharp teeth as it lets out another thunderous roar. Its belly destroys the final part of the cathedral’s wall as it moves forward, smashing its leg onto the altar and bringing with it an avalanche of rubble that stops inches from the Dark Lady.
Kingston gawks at the dragon in utter disbelief. Its body shadows the entirety of the ground, pulling everyone into darkness. Along its head, neck, body, and tail is silver armor that matches the set Dorndrick wears, casting the moon’s glow back into the sky as though it were a light’s beacon.
It lowers its head down toward the Dark Lady. She pulls her hand away from Dorndrick, who falls to the ground like discarded trash. The Dark Lady stands unyielding as the creature’s glowing white eyes dazzle at her. Its breath can be seen rising into the night’s sky, now adorning the cathedral. She moves closer to the beast and stretches out her hand as it brings its own head closer to her.
“Even now, she hasn’t forgotten you,” Dorndrick says, weak but confident.
He is ascending the armor on one of the creature’s legs.
The creature retracts its head high into the air. It lets out another decimating howl before exhaling a beam of stunning white light that shoots into the night like a fiery comet. Its wings jut out, revealing the veiny transparent undersides as they begin to flap violently, raising the creature into the air.
Dorndrick casts his gaze at the Dark Lady one last time.
“Away!” He grabs the metal bar that rests across the dragon’s back.
As he settles into position, the beast delivers one final roar before disappearing into the twilit night.
Kingston inches towards the wrecked altar, along with the shaken soldiers following him. He stops several feet from the Dark Lady.
She continues to stare up into the night.
Kingston hears footsteps and turns to see Vin’jork stepping through the cathedral’s rubble. The soldier passes Kingston without acknowledgement, and halts next to the Dark Lady. She stands motionless for several moments.
“Go,” she murmurs.
Vin’jork nods.
Kingston waits a moment before turning away.
The Dark Lady stares on as she watches the last of the airships disappear into the distance.