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Prologue: Confrontation

  She reached out, fingers latching onto any crevice as she desperately pulled herself across the cavern floor. Winds from the raging blizzard lashed at her back, sending a vicious chill down her spine. She crawled through a graveyard of ancient bones, rusted spears and shattered armor, pushing aside skeletons, losing count of how many bodies littered the cave entrance. Tangy sweat, moldy wet stone and the iron of blood filled her nostrils. She just had to get through! Mud blurred her vision. She was out breath.

  The back of her right thigh was slashed open and blood soaked her torn dress. A subtle flare of dark rose pulsed against her skin from her tattered magical threads. Emerging from a chaotic orchestra of frenzied spell casting and sword clashing, an angry snarl echoed against the cave walls. A dragon pursued her. She heard the others shout at each other.

  “Hurry!”

  “There! It looks weak there!”

  “I’ll see your insides, beast!”

  A massive explosion cracked, splitting the cave ceiling, the breach dashing like a lightening bolt overhead. She heard the ancient stalactites snap and shatter against the rumbling cave floor. She clutched the stones around her, praying she’d be spared the collapsing ceiling. She shrank at the dragon’s headache inducing wail. She looked over her shoulder. The black dragon, wounded by the cave-in, writhed to free itself of the debris.

  She crawled further in. She wiped the bloodied mud and sweat from her eyes and weakly lifted herself onto a boulder. Everything ached. She felt as if her body would collapse then and there. She unstrapped her steel breastplate and pulled it off, tossing it to the ground. The entire left side of her armor was cracked open. The metal had twisted in and gnawed at her. She carefully patted her broken ribs. It was like every little breath was just out of reach. She lifted the glowing tear in the side of her dress. Her stomach, ribs and left breast were deeply bruised in yellow and purple, smeared in blood from where her punctured armor had chewed her skin. She dropped the shredded cloth and looked forward.

  Ahead of her was a large hollowed-out space, perfect for a dragon to nest. The cave floor was hidden underneath a sea of bones and rotting corpses that produced a horrendous stench. On the other side of the chamber was a large crack in the wall from which an alluring violet light shined through. She pushed herself up and limped forward, avoiding the bodies cluttering the cave floor. Her body felt fragile, each step highlighting every strike she endured by the dragon. One more hit and she’d break. When she reached the opening in the cave wall, she peeked inside.

  Her shining blue eyes saw a colossal chamber. On the furthest end, there was a crescent shaped cave wall carved with ancient scribblings. In the center of the room, a radiating purple pillar of light had breached the floor and smashed through the ceiling. The light crawled across the dome like roots borrowing into the stone.

  “It’s here!” she called out. Her voice was faint and wincing, emphasizing her torso wounds. She heard the others struggle with the dragon. She turned to the opening, twisted and side stepped through. Her wounds aside, she had no trouble shimmying into the chamber. There was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Distant voices echoed. It was hot. On the edges of stone and bones and metal colors vibrated as if the whole spectrum was being undone.

  As she neared the pillar of light, she felt a thunderous hum rattling her body. Small flaring tendrils snapped off the pillar and longingly stretched out for her. She kept her distance. Avoiding the light, she cautiously approached the crescent shaped wall.

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  It was even higher than she thought, vaulting over her head, featuring deep etchings of an old tongue. Few knew of the cave’s existence and fewer of the treasure hidden within. This dragon protected something far more valuable than gold. If their research was correct, these writings detailed the origins of a powerful eldritch being. More importantly, they were told that this wall was linked to the source of that being and therefore presented an opportunity for its destruction.

  She recognized some of the lettering, but wasn’t able to speak it. She reached out, running her fingers along the primordial text. The letters glowed in response. Suddenly, an immense pain gripped her brain! She collapsed, holding her head, clenching her teeth. A chorus of angry voices flooded her mind, furious that she’d touched the holy text. She couldn’t decipher their exact words, but feelings of abandonment, cowardice and worthlessness overwhelmed her. She saw flashes of violet crack from the pillar as it snapped at her back, then shoulder, then cheek. She recoiled back and reached for her sword. It was missing!

  She glanced back towards the cave entrance. She hurried back to the opening and peered through. Her mud covered blade was lying on the ground under the dragon’s tail. She watched her friends battle the dragon. They managed to dodge its claws and counter its magic, but for how long? She turned back to the chamber.

  Stay calm, she thought. “Reveal yourself!”

  The overlapping voices in her head spoke with slow but roaring power that drowned out her thoughts. It was as if they came in and out of existence, eager to punish her, but distracted elsewhere. Each growled syllable elevated the pain spreading throughout her fatigued body. “You enter holy ground, reeking of heresy.”

  She pushed against the thoughts, shouting, “I’m the heretic? Consider your actions. You’ll be held accountable!”

  “By you? Look at you. Mortal.” The voices eerily snickered. “You can do nothing!” The voices scattered from her mind and echoed throughout the cavern. The ancient letters glowed in unison, shining brighter by the second, nearly blinding her. She lifted her hand to block the light, engulfed in searing heat, seeing the bones and veins under the skin. Her dress emanated a soft dome of rosy light, shielding her from the heat. At the entrance, the others stop fighting.

  “You’ve summoned it?” snarled the dragon. “You, fool!”

  The dragon whipped its tail at the others, spinning around towards the north. It snapped its wings, throwing her friends into the storming blizzard. With a final screech, the dragon flew away and faded into the white. The others, bone-tired and wounded, ventured into the cave and squeezed through the chamber opening. The light dimmed.

  The voices returned, low and menacing as they rumbled, “Who dares summon me? Tell me, that I might record your doom on my walls.”

  “I’m Ayla,” she said, struggling to stand, fighting the painful gash in her thigh. “Black Saint of Witchwicks.”

  From her left, someone had snatched her hand, holding it tight. She looked down, watching bloody fingers interlace with hers. She heard, “Jasmine, Crimson Sorceress of Mageburn!” Releasing her hand, Jasmine wrapped her arm around Ayla’s waist and swooped her close, whispering, “I’ve got you.”

  Ayla was grateful to have her friend by her side. She felt her warmth and strength as she rested against Jasmine for support. She looked up at Jasmine. The sorceress’s defiant gaze was fixated on the glowing wall. Her face was bruised and cut, but she showed no sign of backing down.

  From behind, a ghostly emerald hand gently rested on Ayla’s shoulder. She heard a calm, but assertive voice, “I’m Mirra, the Guardian of the Wightshade.”

  “The Wightshade?” The voices seemed shocked. “That can’t be…”

  Ayla turned to Mirra, who nodded with a smile. Her eyes were filled with grace and steadfastness. “I’m ready,” she said assuredly.

  “As am I,” sounded a low roar dripping with violent pleasure. Ayla saw Shemgar emerge from the shadow behind them. The veins stretched across his bulging muscles angrily pulsed as he lifted his bloodied battle axe. Mirra’s spectral glow highlighted his statuesque form as she floated to him. She rested her hand over his heart, smiling as she peered into his eyes with gratefulness.

  As her friends remained close, a swell of confidence ignited fierce determination. Ayla pointed towards the radiant wall and called out, “We’ve come for you, Failing God!”

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