Raxel woke to pain.

  He felt the heat of flame licking his back and realized what had happened as the smell of smoke and burning flesh assailed his nostrils. Slowly, his head started to clear, and he stood, looking from atop the great steps of Lucent palace at the remains of the foul creature and his men below.

  The chimera had died in fire and blood. That fact gave him no small degree of satisfaction.

  But the Grey price had been paid to see it downed. Now, he was alone.

  He ignored the aches and pains that coursed through his limbs and turned towards the palace entrance, numbing his mind to all thoughts but those of securing his vengeance for everyone who had fallen here today. He kept their names in his mind, repeating them like a mantra against fear with every step he took that brought him closer and closer to the palace threshold until, finally, he reached the great pearl-doors of the castle.

  “Infernis!”

  He channeled his pain into a single molten blast that cracked those doors wide open. Dust gathered, then settled, and he looked upon the palace main hall for the first time in months. It was like looking into a distant dream. Here was where it had all happened. Here was where the Archon had broken through their last ranks and turned the people of the city against the Greycloaks that remained with vile trickery and manipulation. Here was where he had lost everything.

  He held the thought. It was the one thing that kept him going as he pressed forward towards the next flight of stairs at the end of the hall. Looking up at the great spire from within, he could feel his main target’s presence even more keenly now. He could feel her every breath and gasp as she gathered her last defenses…

  So when a tiny green blade came flying towards him from the top of the main stairwell, his Arcane Shield was ready.

  It activated on reflex, repelling the little blade which boomeranged right back to the beast that launched it. A stealthy one, Raxel noted, for as soon as the blade met the hand of its wielder it disappeared into the air – vanishing with its master.

  A simple spell of vision was all he needed to dispel the Hide Skill of his opponent. And he was about ready to cast it when he felt a rush of air behind his back –

  -shit!

  His shield deflected another strike – then another launched from his rear. The blade of his assailant spun with speed he could barely counter. Were it not for the [Reactive] property of his shield he’d have been cut to ribbons.

  He can’t hurt me, Raxel thought. But I can’t activate my Vision spell while keeping up my defenses…

  The Grey mage too his chance when the blade came scything down again – blocking it and then re-directing the energy of his shield into a kinetic blast at the top of the stairwell. He could swear that when the attack made its mark he heard the wail of a beast.

  “Show yourself, mongrel!” he roared as he levitated towards the winding palace stairway. “Fight with some honor before you die!”

  He summoned fourth a gout of flame towards where the creature must have been, dousing the entire stairway in soot. Not to damage the beast – but simply to reveal its pawprints on the marble flooring. Once he’d done so, he saw four distinct, tiny paw-print marks skitter along the stairs leading to the next floors.

  Some other mutant beast of the Archon’s, Raxel murmured. This time, you won’t stop me.

  He pursued the invisible creature whilst keeping up his defenses. Still his Vision spell failed him – as soon as he attempted to cast it a flurry of sapphire projectiles flew from the scintillating air and forced him to slam on his defensive spells with haste.

  Spectral Snipe, he observed. Another one of the Archon’s favorites.

  He returned fire as he chased the beast. Once or twice, as they blasted their way through the corridors of the palace, he thought he’d hit his mark. And each time he saw another sprite of spectral air dash towards him – sundering light ready to rip through all his limbs if he gave it the slightest chance. It was all he could do to keep his shields active while he kept up his kinetic blasts. The force of his attacks managed to throw his foe off balance, even if it didn’t kill the creature outright.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  He knew its game – it was a diversion. A distraction. It couldn’t kill him, whatever it was. It was urging him to pursue, to waste his already dwindling mana resources.

  But Raxel wasn’t so easily fooled. When he saw his chance he sent three collctive barrier spells flying at the hidden creature and brought an entire section of rebuilt columns down with it, giving him enough breathing room to blast a hole in the roof of the second floor and levitate up towards the throne room entrance.

  He knew the beast would pursue. He knew his chances of survival were slim.

  But he could feel the beating heart of his prey within his ears now. He was close. He would complete his mission. No matter what.

  When he made it to the narrow corridor that led to the old throne room of Lucent he spared a thought at the sacrilege he saw. The old gilded hallway, once lined with portraits of the old line of Lysandus, had been changed into a tapestry of terror. Grisly trophies of the Archon’s minions lined the hall now: Carliah Argent’s broken blade, the branch of the burned demonic Albion tree of Sentinel Port, and a collection of feathers plucked from the Lightborn’s angelic wings…

  Testaments to human defeat. Testaments to failure…

  Raxel heard scurrying on the floors beneath him. He wasn’t about to linger here.

  With a single charge of fiery will he sent an infernal storm rocketing through the hallway, blazing through all the artifacts and smacking open the door at the end of the hall.

  Instead of taking him to the throne room, however, he entered a large chamber with a circular table in the middle.

  A table where two creatures were currently laying in wait.

  “In our part of the world,” one of them said. “It really is customary to knock before a meeting.”

  Raxel strode in, sparks of lambent flame following him.

  “My, my,” the speaker continued as the smoke cleared. “This one certainly has the old Greycloak fury down to a T.”

  “Indeed,” the other replied with a slight lisp. “Thissss human remindsss me of the old Lightborn. All anger. All power. No brainssss.”

  Raxel ignored their quips. He walked forward, staff raised and still crackling with cinders.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  He could see both of them now. One: a scruffy looking, rather plump Minxit with bore a dull, drab staff affixed with an onyx gem at its tip. The other: a filthy ratman with one good eye and something glittering in its paws.

  “If you desire an audience with the Lady,” the catman said. “Then kindly first make sure you go through the proper channe-“

  He swept his staff over the room and sent a wave of black smoke towards them both. On impulse the creatures jumped, brandishing their weapons and ready to pounce on him.

  But Raxel smiled. They’d taken the bait.

  [Petrification Dust: ACTIVATED]

  The cat and the rat felt their legs go numb, then they felt the creeping certainty of grey, numb death creep over their bodies.

  “Ah,” Cormyr sighed. “That’s…going to be an issue.”

  Beside him Fraxx scoffed.

  “Can’t you magic it away?”

  “Funny thing about Geomancers: Petrification Nullification isn’t part of our repertoire…can’t you slice it off us?”

  “Funny thing about ratmen: our clawsss are not asss ssstrong assss ssssome sssay…”

  “Shut up, both of you!”

  Raxel’s dulcet wail broke the discussion.

  “Tell me where she is and I’ll make your deaths quick,” he said, leveling his staff against them both as their bodies slowly but surely turned to stone.

  “You know, I heard that the Archon’s Petrification Skill works much faster than this o-“

  “YOUR ARCHON ISN’T HERE!” Raxel roared, sending a torrent of fire into the ceiling. “Now, I will ask you one more time: tell me where your little secret weapon is, or you shall know more of pain than you ever wished to know.”

  Both Hybrid councilors looked at each other and shook their heads.

  “Oh no,” Fraxx said. “I’m afraid there issss a missstake here.”

  “On that point we agree,” Cormyr concurred. “You see, young Greycloak, you’re going to die here, tonight. And you will have accomplished precisely what the rest of your order has over the millennia you have reigned over this land: nothing at all.”

  Raxel broke into a disturbed, maniacal laugh. He allowed himself the chance to gloat.

  “Your Archon has abandoned you,” he said. “You have no Gods to protect you. You can’t even protect yourselves. And you dare to presume to challenge me?”

  Both the Ratman and Minxit shared a knowing smile.

  “Oh no,” Cormyr said. “Not us, dear boy. Them”

  Raxel’s shield flared in the moment the attack came. From behind, a flash of spectral power wreathed in twilight – a dark missile bound straight for him that he only just managed to block before he felt himself thrown clear across the council chamber, smacking his head against the table and cracking the stonework there. The sheer strength of force behind the blast would have slain a normal human a dozen times over. For a Greycloak Magus like him, it just left him winded.

  As he staggered to his feet, he then saw where it had come from. His invisible assailant had caught up with him. Stalking towards him out of the smoke and cinders at the door, a proud warrior unsheathed two spindle-like blades and held them at the ready. Beneath him, his steed summoned up a [Roar] that pushed Raxel even further back and cleared the smoke plumes so the Greycloak could finally see who it was that dared to oppose him.

  “…Impossible,” he whispered.

  Before him stood the figure of a Salamandrike garbed in emerald-green armor, riding atop a giant rat with eyes like those of a predator ready to pounce.

  FOES IDENTIFIED!

  Sir Theodore the Slayer (LVL 235)

  Sir Leifblade of Sanctum (LVL 184)