Chapter X: Obsession's Embrace
448 Words
Vianlis jolted awake, porcelain features frozen in residual dread. The archfiend's phantom breath still scorched her neck, his crimson gaze burning through fading dreamscapes. In nightmare's theater, obsidian wings had enfolded her trembling form, alabaster fingers violating sanctuary of lips in profane communion.
"—Found you."
Reality resolved into familiar velvet shadows. Above loomed Merlin's countenance, amusement dancing in quicksilver eyes. "Night terrors, little marionette?"
Her nod went unaccompanied by confession.
"Teach me illusions," she implored.
The magus proffered his iconic hat. "Plumb its depths."
Within the topper's void, her fingers closed on familiar glass. The arcane looking-glass glared reproachfully through nonexistent oculars.
"All prestidigitation rests upon deception," Merlin intoned, producing twin mirrors from etheric folds. "Truth dwells in peripheral shadows."
Her tentative selection prompted cascading revelations - three, four, five crystalline surfaces materializing in mocking array. When at last she identified the true artifact, the magus's laughter chimed like silver bells. "No laurels for perspicacity."
"Deceitful enchanter!" She seized his hair in mock fury, porcelain teeth imprinting lunar patterns on his knuckles. Unseen by the doll, Merlin's gaze lingered on the obsidian sigil marring her scapulae - a cursed mandala pulsing with apocalyptic portents.
...
Deepscar Chasm yawned beneath tempestuous skies, divine wrath made geological. Lightning-king's fury had cloven continents here, leaving festering wounds where angelic ichor still seeped.
Through this blighted expanse marched phalanxes of argent-armored paladins. The vanguard commander raised a gauntlet as miasmic fog coalesced. "Phalanx formation!"
Abominations descended like perverted snowfall - limbless torsos with lamprey mouths, skeletal amalgams clicking mandibles of fused vertebrae. Holy flames roared in response, purging the tainted horde. Yet the true horror loomed beyond perception's edge, its presence warping reality's fabric.
When celestial radiance split the firmament, none anticipated the human comet that followed. Crimson hair blazed like war-banners as Solentia, the Iron Chancellor, carved sanguinary arcs through the swarm. "Pathetic vermin," he sneered, molten steel dripping from his greatsword.
The commander's report came clipped: "Perimeter advance: 150 leagues. Abomination density exponential. Divine resonance nullified."
Their discourse shattered as psychic tendrils pierced mortal minds. A paladin collapsed, clawing at his helm. "Aesha! Where is my Aesha!" The plea devolved into guttural howls, eyes hemorrhaging blackened tears.
Solentia's blade fell in mercy's guise. "Aesha..." he murmured, tasting the cursed syllabic resonance.
In liminal realms beyond mortal ken, a primordial consciousness stirred. Its affection - vast, all-consuming, maddening - reverberated through reality's strata. Throne-bound emperors shifted restlessly; celestial envoys snapped alert; even a certain small-town magus faltered mid-presto.
As the Iron Chancellor ascended like phoenix reborn, his molten gaze locked on the chasm's heart. Whatever horrors awaited mattered not - this was the dance he was born to execute.
- Writer
