Chapter 169: Veil


    He strained his neck and eyes to get a better view, the clouds proving to be more of a nuisance than the voices in his head. They told him which attacks to use, where to fire, and what power he should <em>borrow</em> from his <em>true </em>Lord, the Sightless King. He was technically blind, his eyes taken as initiation into his new family, but that didn’t stop him from raining down crimson hellfire.


    The spell was called Primordial Burst and was <em>not</em> his favorite. But that was what his Lord told him to use, so he did.


    The attack ballooned from his open palm, searing the air it directly touched while evaporating all moisture. The spell was neither hot nor radiant, but the sheer amount of mana the burst took nipped at the fabric of reality. The effect was grave, but that hardly mattered to the Sightless King. <em>His</em> eyes had long burnt away, so use of such magic was far within his right as a <em>Lord.</em>


    The spell fully formed on the cultist’s open palm. It pulsated with a dull red gleam, like a Primordial Slime, the very monster the spell was said to have originated from. The man lined up where the voices told him to and prepared himself. His arm would disintegrate, but that was all fine in his <em>eyes.</em> Then he would have to move away, for the world would disintegrate with it.


    Or at least part of it.


    The man breathed out, and the spell began to—


    A sickly emerald spike split the difference between his eyes before dicing through his brain and out the back of his head. The voices went silent and he felt his Lord renounce His im. The mana fueling Primordial Burst faltered, the spell flickering away as gravity consumed the man’s flight spell. As his body fell through the clouds, the little destructive magic that clung to his open palm began to destroy him.


    Nearly all of the man’s upper torso was gone by the time the mana ran out. Then, after a handful of seconds, he sttered against the rocky wastnd below.


    Lnd flinched at the sudden bodynding beside him, but he set his shoulders and continued to sprint. Sybil, unfortunately, was a bit more reactive. She jolted at the <em>thud,</em> her knee catching against her other leg. She fell, the slick rock doing nothing to help.With all his strength, Lnd heaved her upright, their hands still sped. A few steps away, Isobel cursed, her momentum carrying her into the perfect position to fire. A bolt of poisonunched from her centipede-weapon, hitting its target with ease. She then turned, throwing up her hands and activating an enchanted item.


    Her wrist glowed brightly, a yellow ripple of magic pulsing forward just in time for the ground to explode. Crimson light dispelled all nearby shadows, casting the area with the mire of the Sightless King. Isobel’s arms locked up, the explosion splitting around her enchanted shield. Pain flooded her hip and arm as her clothes ignited.


    Under any normal circumstances the Huntress <em>would not</em> have been harmed by such a <em>weak </em>spell. But she was hardly fighting for herself, right? Just a few paces away, Lnd and Sybil ran, their young forms <em>nothing</em>pared to the might of primal magic.


    Isobel had recognized it instantly, the magic quite well known in the sphere of Inquisitors. How many times had she hunted down and killed rogue primal mages? Too many. She’d have to inform Lnd that the Sightless King’s power was identifiably primal at high-rank. Not for himself, obviously, but for Glenny, the Chameleon.


    The boy <em>should be</em> fine for the time being. Isobel had been around Glenny’s power quite a bit and never before had she noticed the primal elements hidden within those conjured swords he used. But that would surely change once he was past the hurdle of a rank three Legacy.


    But that was forter. Right now she had to deal with a horde of angry cultists while her wards ran toward an invisible, reality defining, Archon that was, <em>supposedly, </em>a child. Because, for some reason to Sybil and Lnd, rushing toward the unknown being was more of an eptable course of action than bunkering down and fighting off the cultists in the sky.


    But then again, she was following along with them, so the idea had <em>some </em>merit, after all.


    “There! There’s a protection spell!” Sybil screeched, wildly pointing ahead.


    Lnd changed course, heading straight over. No one could see where she pointed but that was beside the point. If they stopped, they would die. The Sightless King would make sure of that. So he ran, passing into the spell without a moment’s hesitation.


    To Isobel, the pair suddenly disappeared. Lnd first, then Sybil as she was pulled through the <em>barrier.</em> She cursed quickly, firing off another bolt while quickly stepping to make up the distance. She too passed whatever barrier was set in the rocks, finding Lnd and Sybil on the other side unharmed.


    “Wha—“


    Lnd’s words died in his throat, the sound just noting out. He shuddered for an answer, his grip on Sybil tightening. She squeezed back, but something told her it would be okay. She hoped that her emotions were conveyed, stepping forward past Lnd.


    Isobel frowned as an explosion of red smoke sundered the ground just outside the invisible barrier. Shrapnel and a particrly deadly shockwave failed to prate, however, which she was quite thankful for. She’d need to recharge her shield enchantment sooner thanter.


    The sudden reprieve from the battle above changed when a cultist appeared on the ground. The woman wore white robes, her eyes glowing with a familiar crimson haze. She charged, Isobel holding her shot a bit longer than what was truly needed.


    It wasn’t that Isobel needed extra time to aim, no, in fact, she could have put a hole in the cultist the moment sheid eyes on her. But Isobel needed <em>some</em> grasp over the situation, and learning exactly how much protection this invisible barrier gave was going to soothe her… for now.


    The cultist’s arm and red mace entered first, but the moment her forehead peaked through, Isobel fired her attack. The spike killed the woman instantly, trailing through her brain and out the other side. Momentum carried the body into the barrier more, depositing her like a farmer throwing a sack of hay. The bolt, however, continued onward until it hit the barrier’s edge where it then shattered into green muck.


    Isobel grunted. No attacks in, none out. The exception was people and whatever weapons they carried. So, she took a deep breath. She could work with that.


    Attacks rained down from above, each peppering the invisible barrier. Frustration obviously grew, as the Sightless Cult began to increase the pace at which they threw spells. A few cultists braved the barrage, rushing through the smoke and fire with weapons drawn. They each died, one shot, one kill originating from the Huntress.


    It was then all attacks ceased and the cultists slowly made their way down, lining up around the barrier like soldiers setting a city siege.


    One of them, a man wearing white robes with gold and obsidian trim, yelled something, but the barrier cut all sound. In other words, whatever threats the man screamed, fell on deaf ears.


    Normally, Isobel would have taunted the man, but a situation was ying out just a few steps away that needed her attention more.


    Sybil was crouched beside a <em>being</em>, while Lnd hauntedly stood behind her, his arm squeezing her shoulder in worry.


    “We mean you no harm. My name is Sybil, can you understand me?” She spoke softly, her voice just above a whisper yet strong and unflinching.


    Isobel would have congratted the girl for such a tone as most nobles often came off as bored and irritated, but again, the situation was far beyond simple sarcastic jabs. So she stepped up beside Lnd, subtly gesturing to him to remove his arm from the Princess. He red at her but she quietly shook her head.


    “<em>Don’t interfere</em>,” Isobel mouthed to him. “<em>You might piss it off.” </em>


    Lnd recoiled at the statement. He went to argue, but then he realized he <em>was</em> holding a scythe and brimming with magic, mana, and lifeforce. Maybe, just <em>maybe,</em> the Huntress was right.


    But that reminded him to nce at his pathway. The winds of fate nudged him just a few steps, directly toward the Archon. Lnd swallowed, epting that what came next might not be up to him at all. Luckily they were in good hands, Sybil’s.


    The Archon was hunched over, an impossible veil circled around a ring of broken sapphire. Chiseled, cut, and polished, the gems glinted with the poor lighting of the clouded sky as they slowly rotated as one. They were evenly sized and spaced, a connecting octagonal ball of pure mana floating silently in their center.


    Yet, as Lnd looked on at it, he couldn’t help but be drawn to a single chunk of sapphire. It was broken and cracked, split at the seams with enough force to shatter arge portion of it. Dust revolved around the broken gem, catching enough light to mimic the blue of the ocean.


    Then, for some reason, Lelend suddenly felt a profound sense of hollowing pain.


    The veil quickly swirled around the gems and mana, covering them in what looked to be silken thread. The threads swayed slightly, what little wind the invisible barrier allowed in creating a natural dance for the cloth.


    The sadness left Lnd’s mind in that moment. He stood a little straighter, noticing Isobel doing the same. They nced at each other, bothing to the same conclusion. Mind magic, or something simr. Perhaps even an emotional effect like Lnd’s contract with the Lord of Spirits.


    Sybil, during all of this, had inched forward just a bit more. She did not straighten out once the mental effect left, and not because the im in her mind was still there. No, in fact the Princess never <em>had</em> the im the others felt, as what she truly felt from the creature was far more than simple sadness and pain.


    Maybe it was instinctual, but she felt a familiarity that reminded her of her own pain. Of her own sadness, of her own torment. This Archon and her were one and the same. Just two beings wishing to be safe and without anguish.


    “I’m so sorry!” Sybil burst out, tears flowing like rapid streams. “We will not hurt you! I promise! We just want to get home!”


    The silken veil reacted, <em>standing</em> taller. Threads cast down, swaying like an arm reaching out . It touched upon Sybil’s wet cheek.


    “So do I,” it said, its voice heavenly yet fearful. “Can you help me?”