RE: Monarch

In the brief second I had before everything went to hell, staring at the descending darkness, my mind couldn't quite make sense of it. It was too large to comprehend, a mass of black that spanned the entire ceiling, plunging like a headsman's axe.

Then it hit.

The impact slammed me against the stone ground, hard enough to knock the wind out of my lungs. There was an unquenchable reflex to gasp, but from the way the black ichor plied at my mouth, my nose, a single breath would be my last.

I fought the urge, writhing beneath the endless mass until there was enough room to rotate off my back and onto my stomach. Palms flat against the slick stone I pushed, trying to get enough momentum to "swim" upward, but the ichor pressed down on the back of my neck, growing taut, attempting to keep me from rising.

My skin burned, stinging and searing.

It was a clever gambit. But an arrogant one. Subtlety had failed and now the thing was trying for brute force. The problem with that plan was that it was effectively putting its entire form—or at least, a significant portion of it—at risk, trying to snuff out its invaders all at once.

Yet a submerged flame did not carry the same properties as an open one. Perhaps it was aware. Maybe the wretch believed that anyone it ensconced would be too concerned with self-preservation, considering the immediate and scalding consequences of super-heating a substance they were currently immersed in.

It was wrong.

I flooded mana through my chitinous arm, kept it low, away from the direction of the surface, called the spark, and boiled it.

Surging stinging bubbles sizzled from beneath my hand. The arm alone was protected as the scalding ichor ravaged my shoulder and neck, the darkness recoiling in a movement that seemed very much like panic. The crushing weight on me lightened but held, refusing to release.

I sent four more sparks out forming a tight, rectangular box around me, avoiding anywhere there was movement—likely a member of my regiment—and increasing their temperature gradually. Pouring everything I had into them would likely mean cooking myself alive, so in a way, this was a game of hubris. A question of who would break first.

It spoke to me again, in its stolen voice.

"This opposition is pointless. It will bring your end and little else. Is killing yourself truly preferable to living out the meticulous fantasy I crafted for you?"

I fed more mana to the sparks, raising the temperature. My skin felt painfully astrictive, inflexible.

Yes.

The ichor pressed down harder on my back, attempting to force me down, break my concentration.

"Why?"

The spasms in my lungs grew more severe, tightening, even as I fought to suppress the urges. It wouldn't be long now. I forced more mana through the weave, raising the temperature of the spark in my hand simultaneously, preparing to bring all five to the highest temperature I could manage. It would likely be the end.

Because I wish to live. Freely. This umbra of guilt and regret has haunted my footsteps for too long. It is done. I failed to save Lillian Gray. I was irresponsible, naïve, and reckless. But the hands that killed her were never mine. The time for grief is over. And I refuse to fail the living on account of the dead.

Kneeling there, with my eyes closed tightly, I prepared for the end.

All at once, the ichor fled, a dark tide returning to the ocean. I killed the sparks before they could be exposed to open air, wiping the burning muck from my eyelids and face, ignoring the stinging flap of skin that hung down, partially detached, threatening to dislodge.

My regiment was haggard and injured, but alive, felling lumbering bodies and shadow tendrils. Mari and Sera shouted orders, doing their best to direct the troops that were still capable, and rescue those who weren't.

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And Maya... danced.

It was unlike anything I'd ever witnessed. A blending of magic and martial combat so fast it was difficult to parse. Life magic glowed green from either side of her staff as she spun the weapon, rapidly jabbing at encroaching darkness on the ground and forcing it to clear a path, fighting her way to the most badly wounded, grasping their shoulders, arms, stabilizing wounds and returning strength, before she was off to the next, dodging between the shambling risen and felling them effortlessly.

We'd both grown a great deal in the sanctum. I realized that while I trusted her abilities in combat, she tended to fight defensively, prioritizing her role as a healer. This very well might be the first time since we'd reunited that she'd truly cut loose.

A force of nature.

Several soldiers floated, rising on surges of ichor that formed plinths, the only sign of life their shallow breathing. Sevran and Zin were near the ceiling.

Maya was pushing towards them.

"MAGES!" I roared, giving little thought to how unhinged I must have looked, smiling despite myself as several heads turned my way. "Burns are ephemeral." I displayed my scalded skin. "Show this shit-puddle the tenacity of the North!"

In an effort to demonstrate, I drove my left fist into the nearest plinth, and boiled it from the inside. The man lifted by it—splayed out and elevated by the small of his back—writhed as the ichor retreated, dropping to the ground. I caught him, blinking as a spatter of ichor dotted my face.

Within the span of a single blink, Maya was there, her hand on the man's forehead, face drawn and focused. The man stirred and coughed, turning to the side and vomiting black. She shared a wince of sympathy before turning to me, her voice breathless.

"Dammit. Your face. I just fixed you."

"There's always time later."

"Help with the rest?"

"Always."

We moved as one, breaking through the lithid's defenses and freeing the captured soldiers. The next few were as easy as the first. After that, it got harder, the ichor grew clingier to its victims, more difficult to separate. To free the last few, I had to burn it off, leaving the soldiers with painful injuries.

To this point, most of the plinths remained stationary. The exceptions actively maneuvered Zin and Sevran away from us, extending their hold by releasing the other captures. When there were no soldiers left to save, and with the mostly recovered regiment advancing, the fixtures stopped, solidifying and turning gray, suspending them nearly a dozen arm-spans above the ground.

"Lords below," Maya hissed, looking up. "This is the only time I've ever missed my wings."

"Say no more." I stepped upward, creating an aegis of air beneath my feet, and another, forming a temporary staircase to the top. Maya followed, taking my hand as she graced the last step. She reached out towards Sevran's forehead, then froze. "What is it?"

"It's easy to break the parasite's connection before it fully sinks its fangs in." Maya looked down towards the recovered soldiers, still keeping the ichor at bay. She squinted in worry. "Mari was not so easy. And she was only out slightly longer than the men we just freed."

I frowned, filling in the rest. Sevran and Zin were in the Lithid's clutches since it first had me. And from its movements, it was clearly prioritizing them. "Doesn't matter how long it takes. I'll buy you time."

"That's not it." Maya grimaced. "Accessing another's mind is delicate work. It must be done correctly to avoid leaving lasting mental injury, and doing it correctly is…"

It snapped into place. The bags under her eyes, and the dip in her shoulders. She'd dipped into her mana pool aggressively, and now, it was taking its toll.

"Exhausting." I filled in.

She nodded unhappily.

With the way things had shaken out, Maya was our point of vulnerability. If she fell, we all fell. I fished through my satchel, hastily going through the airtight apothecary compartment, fishing out a wad of vurseng. Maya took it and bit down, chewing aggressively, flagging slightly from the effort. I feared it wouldn't be enough.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No." She stopped, thought about it. "Maybe. I can open a connection to their minds easily enough. It is the traversal that is difficult."

A possibility occurred. A fraction of a hope. "Can you hold the gate open and allow another to pass in your stead?"

Maya weighed that idea, her face a flurry of expression as she worked it out. "Never tried. But, it's possible. Opening the connection is the easiest part. That might be the only way we can save them both. It's getting harder and harder to keep my eyes open."

"Do it."

"This will be difficult. It's untested, and there's danger to everyone involved."

"We're past that point. For that matter, you've never let me down before." I smiled, showing a brave face, even as the fear encroached.

Maya barked a laugh. "No pressure."

"None at all."

"Very well."

Maya placed a palm just above the bridge of Sevran's nose, her eyes closed, focused. The verdant light intensified, growing brighter in the gloom, taking on a bluish, wispy hue. Her other hand, possessed with the same unfamiliar light, reached towards me slowly, the light within her palm almost blinding before her fingers stroked my forehead.

The darkness took me.

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