Outside the vast cavern system, under the blistering sun, throngs of men and women crowded the entrances – both the one recently sealed and the one torn open by the emerser's rampage.
Their attire revealed a mixed force: academy-trained and mercenary maegis alike.
They swarmed like hundreds of ants, scrambling across the sand, circling the two entrances with the desperation of starving beasts scenting prey. Amidst them, Kilij sat on a crude seat fashioned from stones and boulders his underlings had scrounged together. He leaned forward, propping his face against a fist, watching the entrance with an expression of complete boredom.
At his feet, several Gorlean corpses lay sprawled, suggesting a few had made it out – only to meet their deaths shortly after.
It had been days since the expedition began – weeks, even. Nothing of interest had emerged, and Kilij had grown restless. He was determined to change that.
The desert worm bided his time, hoping someone worth his while would crawl out of the hole he guarded. But as time passed, it became painfully clear his expectations were misplaced.
A few stragglers had surfaced, but none were worth remembering.
'I was told the Gorleans would have interesting characters,' Kilij said, addressing a nearby Ikshari. 'Is this true or simply codswallop?'
'I've heard such things as well, Sir Kilij.'
'Oh? Enlighten me,' he commanded with a slight gesture.
'The most infamous among them is likely the one named Riniock. Master Fladd despises him more than any other. It's said he's killed three of Fladd's disciples – and countless lesser maegis besides.'
'Hoho! He must be the one Fladd specifically asked me to deal with.'
'That's likely. Though I've heard he's an oddity among his peers, I doubt his skills would be of any interest to you. Frankly, none of them would.'
Kilij chuckled. 'Of course not. But I didn't ask for someone who could rival me. I asked for the interesting ones. There are none who can stand against me. No Gorlean – save for that monstrous high maegi of theirs – would ever dare cross paths with me as an equal.'
The conversation ended abruptly when Kilij's spellswords emerged from the cavern, dragging corpses slung over their shoulders.
Kilij rose to his feet, his face twisted with confusion.
'Boss…' one of them muttered hesitantly.
'What is this?' the mercenary leader roared, fury bursting forth. 'Who killed them?'
One mercenary shrugged whilst another gave a helpless shake of his head.
'You don't know? My men dead and you haven't handled the ones responsible?'
'Well…we know it's the same person – or group.'
'And what good is that to me? How is it that none of you –'
His words hung on the tip of his tongue.
A piercing chime suddenly rang in his head – a note so sharp it could've shattered sanity. Had Kilij not steeled himself, he might've shared the same fate as the others. A searing pain spread across his forehead, and he clawed at it in agony, tearing at his own skin like a man possessed. Around him, others did the same. He was not alone in the torment.
Then, pandemonium ensued.
More than half of those stationed outside – Ikshari and mercenary alike – collapsed after their heads burst open, painting the golden sand with blood and bits of bone and brain.
The Ikshari who had been speaking with Kilij trembled beside him. As Kilij turned to look at the man, his face detonated, splattering the mercenary leader in crimson.
Kilij stood frozen, lips parting as he tasted blood that was not his own. His gaze was pulled skyward, to something floating high above.
A figure, no larger than a palm from where he stood, hovered in the vast sky. Its size betrayed the distance – whoever it was, they were impossibly far.
So far, in fact, that Kilij could count on one hand the spells capable of reaching that altitude.
'Impossible…' he whispered.
A single glance was enough to assess the damage. Only the strongest amongst Kilij's forces – and a few surviving Iksharis – remained on their feet, though their minds bore the scars of what they'd witnessed and endured.
The spellswords wasted no time. As soon as they could move, they took aim, hands raised towards the distant figure. What followed was a barrage fit for a battalion.
Thousands of magickal, spectral arrows streaked through the sky, converging on their target like a storm of wrath.
The leader joined in. A massive, shimmering orb of sand rose into the air, twisting and condensing as it joined the fray. Though it appeared delicate at first, the sphere hardened as it soared – becoming a boulder of compressed power.
Yet despite the overwhelming offensive, the figure above remained motionless, unmoved.
Then, the maegi clapped his hands – softly, almost mockingly.
Nothing happened in that instant.
But as his palms parted, the air itself cracked. The atmosphere fractured in a silent wave, scattering every spell – arrows, boulders, and beams – off their course. They veered away wildly, raining down across the landscape, striking everywhere except their intended mark.
Then the figure struck again.
With a sudden flourish, his hands extended, and every corpse near the grounded maegis began to tremble. Beneath their skin, bones cracked and twisted with sickening snaps.
The remaining spellswords and Iksharis stared in horror, frozen by the unfolding nightmare.
'Dark magick…' Kilij muttered, already concocting a way of escape.
As if answering a silent command, shards of bone burst from within the corpses, bloodily carving their way out and floating ominously above. With a simple gesture – arms crossed – the figure unleashed them.
The shards split in all directions, tearing through any who weren't prepared. Those with fragile shields were riddled with the bone projectiles, the jagged fragments tearing through their defences like paper.
In a heartbeat, another wave of bodies collapsed, felled by a motion as effortless as a flick of the wrist.
Kilij emerged unscathed – buried beneath the sand where he'd hidden, having learned caution after his encounter with Talien. His body had blended with the terrain, but as his head breached the surface, flesh returned to form.
'Another fucking monster…' he hissed, dragging himself upright.
Scanning the field, his eyes found only two others still alive. But before he could even call to them, they fell – without sound, without sign. One moment alive, the next, lifeless.
His pulse skipped.
In less than fifteen minutes, his entire force had been wiped out. Only those still inside the ruins remained.
'Who in Murat are you?!' Kilij shouted, bitterness cutting his throat like acid.
'Who wants to know?' the figure replied, pausing his assault simply to entertain this conversation.
'Kilij…the desert worm.'
The airborne maegi stared at him, expression unmoved.
'Never heard of you,' he said coldly, raising a hand in Kilij's direction.
Kilij flinched, gritting his teeth. 'Who are you?'
'I thought you said that no Gorlean could ever dare to cross paths with you as equal. Where you words empty boasts? Here I am, a Gorlean.'
'W-Who are you really? Fladd never mentioned you…'
'Fladd, huh. If you really must know, I'm the arch-maegi of the college whose students your men are slaughtering.'
The truth hit him like a blow. Of course, he was just as monstrous as the high maegi – he was one who even surpassed that freak.
But unlike before, there would be no emerser to save him. This time, he was alone to act.
If he wanted to survive, he'd have to rely on himself.
'Now, if you don't mind,' Karthen continued, 'I've students to save, insolents to kill, and an academy to raze to the ground.'
Panic surged through Kilij.
A spell began to form between Karthen's hands – so powerful, the air itself trembled from it, even at such a great distance.
Thinking quickly, Kilij blurted, 'We have your high maegi!'
That stopped him.
'Talien was captured?'
'That's right…'
'I don't believe you. None of your kind could best him.'
Kilij scrambled his thoughts in search for proof. 'Then how is it he used the power in his bracelet and circlet?'
Karthen's face darkened in an instant. Even from afar, the shift in his expression sent fear slithering down Kilij's spine.
'You, lowly mongrels from this backwater province that you are, forced Talien to use the Light of Aslad?' he asked, voice low and terrible. 'I will water the rock barren with all of your filthy blood, syndra trees will begin to sprout.'
The arch-maegi raised his hand again.
Realising words wouldn't save him, Kilij began to shift – his body turning to sand as he tried to flee into the earth.
But before he could vanish completely, a counter-spell forced him back into human form, lying on top of the sand like a suffocating fish plucked from the water.
'Counterweave? From that distance?'
In the next blink, Karthen stood before him, his hand immediately clenched around Kilij's throat.
The mercenary leader tried to struggle, but his body wouldn't obey. Teleportation…paralysis…dark magick, he has a whole arsenal…
'Consider yourself lucky, Kilij,' Karthen whispered. 'The Iksharis will suffer far worse a fate than you.'
A green glow wrapped around his finger and tightened at Kilij's throat. The mercenary screamed as his very soul was siphoned from his body, the tether that linked them slowly snapping apart. Moments later, his desiccated husk collapsed onto the sand, drained of all life.
When the massacre was done, small ghostly wisps rose from the fallen – dim, lacklustre green orbs that floated towards Karthen. They were the souls of the fallen.
The arch-maegi gathered them into dull, glowing crystals.
'Hold on, Riniock,' he murmured, eyes fixed on the carved entrance. 'I'm nearly there…'