Vol. IV Chapter XI: Battle at the Edge of Dawn, Part 1

Melissa followed the trail across the ashen land, the sky above still dim, faint streaks of gray showing the first signs of dawn.

Cold mist seeped from cracks in the ground, clinging like blue smoke, that the wind could not carry away.

This land itself feels… sick. Diseased.

She ran until the ground suddenly gave way, and a crater opened before her, its edge dropping in a steep curve like the rim of a bowl.

Flattening herself against the earth, she crawled forward and peered between thornbushes down into the basin.

What she saw was no settlement, but an excavation site: scaffolding of dark timber, pulleys, ramps cut into the rock.

Between black tents flickered pale blue flames, and in the center stood the half-unearthed gate of an ancient temple, framed by two shattered columns.

And everywhere:

Yashari soldiers. Hundreds of them.

Warriors in black brigandine, banners marked with the serpent-blade, drums pounding deep enough to shake the dust.

Among them moved others, slower, solemn, their armor wreathed in cold mist, helmets shaped like skulls.

Wherever she looked, those oily, bluish fumes writhed, the same as in Refalesh.

The aura tightened around her throat; beneath the stench lurked something disturbingly familiar, a presence she had once felt near, yet could not name.

Where… have I sensed this before?

Between two tents, she spotted cages arranged in neat rows. 

Inside them, furred bodies huddled together, long ears drooping, wide eyes filled with terror.

The Kirraka.

Then the ceremony began.

A Yashari priest in a dark-blue robe ascended the platform, face hidden behind a skull mask, his voice rolling through the crater.

“Hear me, sons and daughters of Yashar! Soon a new power shall lift us, lift all of Yashar, to the realm of the gods! And our invincible armies will sweep away our enemies like ashes in the wind!”

The crowd erupted in cheers while Melissa lay tense at the rim, fingers dug into the dirt, muscles coiled.

„What is he talking about? Don’t tell me yet another Olympian has their hand in this…“

But the priest continued:

“The Lady of Night stands ready, the ancient gate is uncovered and the blood of infidels will anoint the path for her ritual! Already she has blessed us with a portion of her might, but this is nothing compared to the power yet to come…”

Melissa grimaced. 

“Ugh, does this guy ever shut up…?” she muttered, crawling along the rim.

She found ropes and stakes driven into the earth, slipped down the slope, claws scraping stone, and landed softly in the cold dust.

Just ahead, two warriors dragged a sobbing Kirraka child from its cage, hauling it toward the altar behind the priest, who still thundered his tirade.

Melissa kept to the shadows, sliding between tent walls, unseen behind the mass of soldiers, until she reached the first cage.

When the Kirraka saw her, their pupils widened, fear shifting into recognition.

“Kha’shara…”

“Quiet.”

She pressed a finger to her lips, touched the lock, and let power surge into her claws.

A faint snap, and the metal gave way.

“When I open it, don’t run. Crawl behind that ridge by the wall and wait for my signal. Got it?”

But before they could nod, their eyes darted past her, to the altar.

“The blood of these infidels shall open the path, down to where the Lord of Silence reigns beneath the ash! As in death, our victory will be born!”

The priest raised a glinting knife, smoke writhing around the blade, while the child screamed in terror.

“Damn it!” Melissa hissed.

Her aura flared violet, crackling in the air, and in a blur she moved.

The knife came down, but her claw struck first.

Steel screeched, sparks flew, and in one motion she snatched the child, rolled off the altar, and shoved it into a Kirraka’s arms at the cages.

The priest gaped at the empty stone, his hand still frozen mid-air as the sacrifice had vanished from under him. 

Only after a stunned heartbeat did his eyes shift, and find her.

“An intruder! Blasphemy!”

The army tensed like a single body.

“Kill her!”

Finally, the front ranks advanced, weapons bristling, while the rest pressed in behind them.

A roar went up, and the first lines began surge forward, while Melissa charged to meet them.

The first spear shattered, became her springboard, lifting her up while her claws lengthened mid-air.

With a thunderous crash she landed, soldiers scattering like leaves as violet lightning lit the dust.

She slashed, ripped, tore, but for every man she dropped, two more came.

They are too many..., she realized.

Suddenly, the soldiers around her stumbled back, spears lowered, voices hushed, while a ring of empty space widened around her, as if none dared stand too close.

Melissa blinked, chest heaving.

“…What? Giving up already? Fits you,” she rasped, defiance in her voice despite the exhaustion.

But then a call rang out:

“Utharaaaak!”

At the name, the ground seemed to tremble beneath the soldiers’ boots.

The front ranks withdrew further, the circle around her widening into an arena.

A massive figure emerged, each step heavy enough to shake the dust, a serrated scimitar as wide as a door slung across his back.

He drew it with deliberate slowness, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm about to break.

Melissa clicked her tongue.

“Tch… another meathead? You know the bigger they come, the harder they...”

But he was faster than he looked.

The first swing was already coming for her, fast enough to split her belly if she hadn’t leapt aside.

Then the blade carved into the sand, and Melissa sprang onto it, vaulted forward, and lunged for his throat, only for her claws to rebound as if striking a shield.

“What the...!?”

The warrior let out a guttural laugh, wiping his mouth before hurling the emptied vial to the ground, the essence he had secretly drunk now hardening his flesh like iron.

His neck gleamed with a metallic sheen, steel armor covering his skin, then he hammered his iron fist into her shoulder.

Her world spun.

Another strike crashed down, driving her into the ground, his weight pressing her flat while the blade hovered just a finger’s breadth from her throat.

Her lungs screamed under the pressure.

Not here. Not… like this.

His laughter rumbled above her.

“Playtime’s over.”

Her lips curled, breath ragged against the steel.

“…Fine… by me.”

In a flash, she coiled her legs around his neck, locking her hooves tight across his back.

His eyes widened as the air crackled and her aura flared bright violet, sparks scattering across the ground.

Her horns stretched, bone blades forcing their way out inch by inch, sharp as daggers, etched with glowing violet runes.

“W-what are you...” he choked, clawing at her grip.

Her horns pierced his neck. 

At first the hardened flesh resisted, unyielding like steel, then with a splintering crack it gave way.

Vertebrae shattered, hot blood sprayed across her brow, running in rivers down her horns.

He convulsed, gasping, the scimitar slipping from his hands.

He tried to rise, but she pressed harder, every muscle straining until his strength broke.

Then his gaze went blank and the colossus toppled sideways, crashing to the ground like a felled tree, dust rolling up around him.

Melissa staggered upright, breath ragged, blood dripping from her horns.

“…the harder…” she panted, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“…they fall.”

Silence fell.

The soldiers still encircled her, disbelief burning in their eyes.

Beyond the smoke, the horizon began to shimmer with color, thin streaks of red and gold breaking apart the night.

The shrill command of the priest split the air:

“Kill her!”

The ring closed in, spears thrusting forward.

Melissa swayed, legs braced, blood in her face, chest heaving, yet she readied herself.

“Come on… I’m still… standing…” she rasped, though her strength was fading fast.

But before the spears struck, a sound cut through the haze.

Not the blare of war horns, but the clear, bright voice of a flute, drifting down like moonlight through violet leaves.

Melissa froze, breath caught in her throat.

I know that tune… that’s... the hymn of Vinfalas!

She raised her eyes, and there, on the rim of the crater, stood Findergwyn, bow drawn, his voice carrying across the battlefield:

“I’ve found her!”

Then, softer, almost over his shoulder, meant only for the one behind him:

“…and she’s fighting alone.”

The Yashari turned as one, gazes snapping to the ridge.

And there, against the blaze of the rising sun, stood seven shadows.

Not an army, just seven.

And among them, the man whose name dropped into her heart like a stone into water, as she saw him.

“…Lucius,” she whispered faintly.

And in the chaos, he saw only her, fierce and wounded, her amber eyes glowing in the light of dawn.

For a heartbeat, there was no battlefield.

Only the two of them. 

A fleeting smile, before the world lurched back into motion.

Lucius’ expression hardened, his gaze swept from her to the black tide of Yashari soldiers below.

Then he summoned his familiar sword, his voice low, almost whispering:

“I left her once. I will never again.”

He stepped forward, green flames of his spell already curling around the blade.

“What are you waiting for!? They’re only a handful! Kill them!” the Yashari priest shrieked, as his soldiers re-formed and skull-masked warriors spilled dark clouds of death across the ground.

Lucius inhaled deeply, fingers brushing the essence vials at his belt.

“Ready?” he asked quietly.

Weapons tightened, eyes narrowed.

“…Uhhm,” Glizzy mumbled, shrugging.

Lucius smirked. 

“Me neither.”

And then, they charged.

The battle had begun.