Shadows over Gloom

Oliver stood at the edge of the plateau, his hands gripping the cold, jagged stone. Below him stretched the valley towards Gloom, a place as unwelcoming as its name. Gray stone walls surrounded the town, their tops uneven where pieces had crumbled and fallen into decay. Beyond the city, the valley was a patchwork of army camps. To the west, the Bone Lord’s forces bore their crimson banners, rows of tents stretching like scars across the barren earth. On the eastern plains, the Plague King’s emerald standards rippled ominously in the wind, the vastness of his encampment a grim reminder of what was to come.

Oliver let out a slow breath, tension knotting his shoulders. He wasn’t sure if it was the stench of impending death or the enormity of the task before him that made his stomach churn.

“They’re preparing for war,” Mali said, her voice calm almost serene. She stood a few paces away, her silver hair catching the faint glow of the moon. Her eyes, sharp and bright, were fixed on the valley below, studying every detail like a predator analyzing its prey.

“I noticed,” Oliver replied. “Doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence that I can pull this off.”

Mali turned her gaze toward him, her expression unreadable. “What’s your plan?”

Oliver hesitated. The truth of his mission felt heavy on his tongue, but there was no point in hiding it now. She had saved his life more than once, and he owed her honesty.

“I have a chronal shard,” he admitted, his voice low. “I’m supposed to stop the Plague King from diverting the primordial channel.”

Mali’s eyebrows arched slightly, a flicker of interest breaking her usual composure. “A chronal shard,” she echoed, the words carrying a reverent weight. “That’s not a trinket you pick up at a market stall. Your Dread Lord give you that?”

“Yeah,” Oliver said, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny. “He said I was... uniquely suited for the task. I’m not sure what that means, honestly.”

Mali’s gaze intensified; her curiosity almost tangible. “And why is the Plague King trying to mess with the very fabric of magic?”

“The Blight Sisters.”

She started at the name and Oliver wasn’t surprised. They were terrifying and everyone seemed to know who they were.

“I’ve heard stories,” he said. “Apparently, they’ve escaped their prison—or so I’ve been told. If that’s true, they’re dangerous. Very dangerous. But to be honest…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I met them. This is all way over my head. I don’t even know what a chronal shard is, let alone how I’m supposed to use it.”

A small smile played at the corners of Mali’s lips, though her eyes remained predatory, assessing. “A chronal shard,” she began, “is a fragment of the Faceless God’s power. It’s said to contain echoes of the divine’s influence over time and space. Mages would kill for one.”

Oliver’s pulse quickened at her words, and he shifted his weight uneasily. Her expression was calm, but her intent gaze made him feel like a rabbit caught in a snare.

“I won’t take it from you,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but firm.

The statement surprised him, though her lack of explanation only deepened the unease. “Why not?”

Her smile widened, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. “Because, Oliver, not everything is as simple as it seems.”

Before he could respond, the sharp blast of a horn echoed through the mountains, carrying a deep, resonant note that vibrated in his chest. Oliver turned toward the valley in alarm, and Mali’s gaze snapped to the eastern plains.

“That’s the Plague King’s trumpet,” she said, her tone sharper now. “They’re preparing to move.”

From their vantage point, they could see the emerald banners shifting as the Plague King’s forces stirred. At the same time, the Bone Lord’s crimson ranks began to mobilize, a slow, ominous ripple across the western camps.

Mali’s eyes gleamed with a strange energy as she turned back to Oliver. “If we’re going to succeed, we need to move now. Once the fighting begins, there will be no way to get into Gloom unnoticed.”

Oliver glanced at her, concern flickering across his face. “What about your family?”

She waved the question away, her focus already on the descent ahead. “I’ll find them later. Right now, we have more important things to do.”

Something about the way she dismissed the topic unsettled him, but he knew better than to press her. Instead, he adjusted the straps on his sword and nodded.

“Lead the way.”

The climb down the mountain was treacherous. Loose stones shifted underfoot, and jagged outcroppings jutted out at odd angles, forcing them to move carefully. The fading light cast long shadows across the rocky terrain, and Oliver found himself relying on Mali’s surefooted movements to guide him.

“Did you get told anything more about how to use the chronal shard?” she asked over her shoulder, her voice carrying easily despite the sharp incline.

“Not really,” Oliver admitted. “The Bone Lord said something about disrupting the channel before he could complete the diversion, but they weren’t exactly clear on the details.”

“Typical,” Mali muttered. “Throw someone into the fire and hope they figure it out.”

Oliver didn’t argue. He felt like a pawn in a game he didn’t fully understand, and the weight of the chronal shard in his satchel only deepened that sense of helplessness.

They reached a narrow ledge that overlooked the valley, and Mali paused, her eyes scanning the city below. The army camps were alive with activity now, torches and banners moving like waves across the darkening land.

“We’ll follow the riverbed,” she said, pointing to a dried channel that snaked down the mountainside. “It’ll lead us close to the city walls without being seen.”

“Are you always this good at sneaking into places you’re not supposed to be?” Oliver asked, attempting a weak smile.

She smirked. “You’d be surprised.”

They continued their descent, the path growing steeper and narrower. The sound of distant horns and clashing steel echoed through the air, signaling that skirmishes had already begun in the valley.

Oliver’s grip tightened on his sword as they reached the bottom of the mountain. The riverbed was dry, its rocky surface littered with debris and overgrown with thorny bushes.

“Stay low,” Mali instructed, crouching as she moved forward.

Oliver followed her lead, the two of them weaving through the natural cover. The closer they got to the city, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The air was thick with the stench of smoke and rot, and the distant cries of soldiers carried on the wind.

They reached a point where the riverbed curved sharply, bringing them within sight of the city walls. The gates were closed, but the broken sections of the walls offered potential entry points.

“There,” Mali said, pointing to a collapsed section partially hidden by overgrowth. “We’ll get in through there.”

Oliver nodded, his heart pounding as they crept closer. The sounds of battle were growing louder now, and the occasional flash of light from spells and flaming projectiles illuminated the dark sky.

When they reached the base of the wall, Mali signaled for him to stop. She crouched behind a large boulder, her eyes scanning the surroundings.

“We’ll wait until the guards are distracted,” she whispered.

As if on cue, a massive explosion rocked the eastern side of the city, sending a plume of fire and smoke into the air. Shouts and the clatter of weapons erupted in response, drawing the attention of the guards near their entry point.

“Now,” Mali hissed, darting forward.

Oliver followed, his breath quick and shallow as they scrambled through the rubble and into the shadows of the city.

Inside, Gloom was a maze of narrow streets and crumbling buildings. The town had clearly seen better days, its structures worn and weathered by time and conflict.

“Where to now?” Oliver asked, his voice low.

Mali pointed toward the center of the city, where a faint greenish glow emanated from a tall, spire-like structure. “Accessing the labyrinth to the primordial channel is there. If the Plague King succeeds in taking Gloom, it will be almost impossible to stop him for completing his plan.”

The city was eerily quiet despite the chaos outside its walls. The narrow streets were deserted, the only sound the distant rumble of battle and the occasional creak of wooden shutters in the wind.

As they moved closer to the spire, the green glow grew brighter, casting an unnatural light across the surrounding buildings. The air grew colder, and Oliver felt a strange tingling sensation in his chest, as if the shard in his satchel was reacting to the energy.

Mali stopped abruptly, holding up a hand to signal silence. She crouched low, her eyes scanning the shadows.

“What is it?” Oliver whispered, gripping his sword.

“Something’s here,” she said, her voice barely audible.

Oliver strained his ears but heard nothing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement—a dark, sinuous shape slipping through the shadows.

“Stay close,” Mali said, her voice tense.

They moved cautiously, their every step deliberate and quiet. The streets seemed to close in around them, the oppressive energy of the spire growing stronger with each passing moment.

When they finally reached the base of the spire, they found the entrance guarded by a group of figures clad in tattered, emerald-green robes. Their eyes glowed with an unnatural light, and their movements were stiff and jerky, as if they were puppets controlled by unseen strings.

“Plague King’s thralls,” Mali whispered. “We’ll have to deal with them quickly.”

Oliver nodded, his grip tightening on his sword. The odds weren’t in their favor, but they had come too far to turn back now.

“Ready?” Mali asked, a faint smirk on her lips.

“Not really,” Oliver admitted, but he raised his blade nonetheless.

“Good,” she said, her voice steady and lunged forward.