The air was still filled with a cacophony of otherworldly screams even as Asa and Sancha fled away from the square, echoing and blending together into an endless discordant howl. The two Saint's followers stumbled through an alleyway whose shadows squirmed to life grasping to tear at the hems of their robes as they passed.
"I think they're not as strong the further we get from it...that thing." Asa gasped out as they gestured with their head toward one of the terrors minions spurting forth from a dark crevice. -- half formed with pinpoint lighted eyes dimly sitting in their hollow sockets.
Sancha whose arm was draped around Asa for support groaned a sound of disgust. "Look at it." she croaked.
The strange lumps writhing underneath the shadow's mass were revealed as its form struggled to maintain shape, ancient aged bones were exposed in between gaps of its warped shadowy flesh. Occasionally it lost hold of one and it would spit out to clatter upon the cobblestone.
Horrified they carefully backed out from the alleyway unwilling to turn their back even from a half-formed minion of the terror. Taken over by a primal instinct Sancha and Asa both overwhelmingly felt like they had no choice but to run. This wasn't anything they could fight or resist in any measure, and some deep human instinct knew that. Even two squares removed and counting they could still feel the terror's presence and its consuming gaze through layer upon layer of buildings. People were fleeing the city in droves with their family in tow. Human scream's joined the monstrous howling in the distance.
Sancha through gritted teeth tried to steady herself. "It's ok, I think I can walk on my own now."
"Are you sure?" Asa asked incredulously.
Sancha nodded mutely in exhaustion. Somewhere a fire started and she found herself slowly turning to look at its dark plume reaching up into the early night sky as Asa pulled her away.
All of her doubts came crashing down upon her at once. This was so much worse than she had though, and she had thought it was pretty damn bad. Terror struck through her. What if it wasn't just The Saint who was dead? What if The Reaper as well? Something had happened to the rest of the old pantheon and while it wasn't information she was privy to she realized the horror had to have something to do with it. Would even The Warmaiden survive against one of those things? What if there were more?
It was all suddenly too much and Sancha felt like she was spiralling. She clutched Asa's arm that had been pulling her through the city all the while and they muttered something about knowing she wasn't well enough to walk on her own. Sancha realized she was covered in blood, and began to wonder at just how hurt she really was.
They continued to flee to the outermost edge of the city, running in silence as they concentrated on doing their best to keep Sancha on her feet. It was awkward work, with Asa mostly supporting Sancha's weight until she would try to run independently for short spurts then inadvertently trip and stumble causing Asa to hoist her up again. Asa definitely wasn't the muscle of the duo.
They dared a look backwards once they were in front of the ancient walls and saw even more of the city was consumed in smoke, but it had an unnatural form. The thick plume reaching into the sky twisted and moved like it too was full of grotesque forms struggling to break free. Occasionally, Sancha swore she could see small crevices exposed by the furling smoke that revealed beady eyes, but it could have just been a trick of the darkness.
Sancha's vision began to swim. They slowed to a stop and it felt easier to breathe outside of the confines of the city but the adrenaline was wearing off. Sancha remembered what a beating she had taken and suddenly had to stumble off to hurl. It had only been maybe an hour ago at most, but time slurred strangely in her head.
She must have nearly blacked out because once she had willed herself to tune back in she was face to face with Asa who was in the middle of setting her down onto a worn rock outside the great city gates."Stay. Here." They commanded and put their hands on her to steady her upright.
In a confused haze she watched Asa head back towards the gate into the city. Sancha almost cried out for them but quickly saw they weren't heading for the actual gate itself, but instead the steep worn stairs zigzagging up the outside wall. She watched in silent confusion as they ran up and dissapeared above the wall. They were gone for a minute. Then two. She instantly began to worry.
Sancha carefully counted seconds and watched more and more families flood outwards from the city's depths. The sun had long since set now and the sky was pitch black. The dark city's torches flickered in the wind, and from over the gates she could see the orange flames from the spreading fire licking into the sky. Dimly she realized that there was a carving over the great stone archway that held the heavy wooden doors to the city. A relief maybe only visible now thanks to the dark shadows cast by the torches in the darkness. Sancha at first thought it might be a remnant left behind by The Saint's ancient followers but the more she struggled to look the less sense it made. It told a story in sequence, with the base of the arch marking the beginning as it climbed to the final moment at the apex of the gate.
It was so hard to see, Sancha's head was pounding and her pain shot through her chest with every breath so she couldn't stand to draw closer. The beginning of the story showed a small mountain village. The mountains were far to the north from Olfyield, so Sancha thought it was a strange starting point. The village's peasants toiled on the endless grassy plains to grow and harvest crops. In a small lopsided cabin even further north and in a forest far from the fields a miserable little girl stirred a great cauldron as a witch stood tall above her, pointing and demanding that she work. The girl was shown sneaking from the cabin then, and running off to join the village. In the next panel the girl was performing wonders for peasants. From her hand a starburst of light burst forth in the stone's etching and the onlookers marveled at her miracles. The witch stood off on some hill watching the scene from afar. The girl then was shown travelling across the continent as the arch sloped upwards. She grew in age she oversaw life events: births, marriage, partnerships. On one there where two lovers whose hands were interlocked with silk and ribbon as they kissed underneath a blossom rain. Sanka had never seen a marriage ceremony like that. As a teen the figure appeared at the lonely houses of praying peasants and helped them find their loved ones. As a young woman she held the hands of children and brought them to new and better homes.
Sancha marveled at this human who had to be The Saint, even though none of these things were familiar to her. Sancha had only known The Saint as a weakened shell of her old self though, something The Saint herself had said more than once.
Towards the crown of the arch things took a turn. The Saint stood openly in a city at the edge of a great lake which Sancha immediately pinned as Olfyield. This Olfyield was surrounded by marshland but in this panel The Saint turned the surrounding fields to those of flowers. The witch, who Sancha had all but forgotten about, stood outside the gates. She sent some sort of plague of snakes and horrible insects upon the city from far outside it, just out of the girl's field of view. Then, infiltrating the city's walls, the witch under the guise of an old woman accused the girl of the horrors, pointing at her in a public trial. The witch watched as the city people so quickly turned onto the girl and, to Sancha's horror, moved on to burning her at the stake.
The girl however did not die, but instead burst forth from the flames. At the very top of the gate in the largest scene carved yet, a woman came from the flames with sixfold wings and long flowing hair adorned with feathers and ribbons. Soft waxy candles dripped from her soldiers and hair as their fire glowed in a warm crown about her head.
In shock and confusion Sancha looked the whole archway over only to find the opposite right side reflected the same procession of events as the left. They both lead to the burning of The Saint and her birth from the flames as a real god.
Sancha honestly felt dumbfounded and lost in the moment as she looked down to remember the horrible reality of the fleeing cityfolk underneath the archway. Then she just felt empty and sick.
Finally Asa returned from atop the gate and Sancha chastised herself for just sitting around uselessly. Why hadn't she gone with them? She tried to rise to meet them halfway and realized she couldn't and maybe that's why she was left behind. The pain clouded her thoughts.
Sancha realized Asa had a stranger she had never seen before at their side. He was handsome and had a long thick cord of blond hair braided down his back. His face was pale, and even his strange golden eyes were framed with blond eyelashes and lined with coal smudges. All were in stark contrast with the even stranger black garments he wore lined with knots of golden trim.
"Are you a Warbound soldier?" She asked stupidly.
"She hit the cobblestone pretty hard, I think." Asa was explaining to the stranger then cut themself off to uncharacteristically curse under their breath. "All of the medical supplies Ilya left behind would still be in the city..."
"That's fine, I might be able to do something about that. But I'm telling you right up front, I'm not saving any lives or anything. That's beyond my abilities--" The stranger said, and Sancha wondered at the way he worded that.
"No, I know. Of course.It's fine." Asa said sharply cutting the stranger off-- like they obviously didn't think it was fine and were too tired for niceties.
"Sancha how are you." Asa turned towards her to ask.
"Bad." She croaked.
"I can at least get us out of here and to a safe house." The stranger said, and with a flourish of his hand produced a burst or flame that curled in upon itself to reveal a bloody horse. A horse that looked like it was made of coal and maybe a bit on fire.
"Holy shit!" Sancha yelled. "I can't do that!"
The stranger shot her a nonplussed look. "Of course you can't." he said, taking her exasperation quite literally as he climbed onto his horse and had it canter in a tight circle like he was testing it out. "Ok, I will be right back!" He shouted as plunged back into the city through it's open gates.
"Who is that?" Sancha asked before she bent over in a burst of dizziness.
"Just hang in there." Asa said.
Sancha realized their face was stricken with worry and had enough awareness to say "It's not your fault. You know that, right? Something horrible is happening and it- Gods... We can't do anything. Gods, Asa what if The Reaper is dead too? What if-" and too distraught to finish the thought she floundered about with her words.
Asa pursed their lips and tried to keep it together as the only one in the duo who wasn't currently suffering from head trauma.
The stranger returned with their horse, who still looked very much on fire. Sancha decided she must have been straight up hallucinating at this point. Most importantly, the stranger had procured a cart from somewhere. "Hop on." He said, and not wanting to spare another minute Asa promptly helped Sancha up inside. It was a simple open aired thing, undoubtedly for moving bales of hay judging by the hey strewn about the ground and the bales that were still stacked into it. It smelled like smoke and looked a bit charred on the edges.
"Can you tell her The Reaper's not dead please!" Asa said towards the stranger as he led them away, yelling over the rattle of the carts wheels.
"What? The Reaper isn't dead, gods can't die." he said with exasperation -- and honestly a bit of a haughty attitude.
Asa just looked tired. "I have some bad news about that last part."
Asa then turned to Sancha and said. "Just hang in there. I don't have healing magic anymore, remember? Just hang in there until I can get my hands on some medicine."
They jostled along the dirt road and Sancha just weakly nodded her head with a small "Ow" as her head bobbed up and down.
"I know, just bear with it." Asa sighed.
Sancha tried very hard to think about anything at all and found the task was impossible, so she went with doing the suggested minimum: she beared with it, teeth clenched and vision focused upwards as Asa tried to gently prop her up against a bale of hay.
She looked one last time towards Olfyields gate as they rumbled away from it, and realized that the stone relief she had just spent a good few minutes pouring over was no longer there and perhaps had never been.
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