Clash of Wills

Nysa, the Bishop, the Priestess, and the dying Novice stood frozen.

The false night sky, which had loomed so menacingly over their heads, crumbled like the most fragile of glass panels.

Far beyond the ruined temple, north of the Divine Capital, seven strands of pale light crashed against a massive mountain. A mighty quake nearly swept them off the ground, followed by a resounding blast.

For the first time in eons, the Theurgic Field surrounding Mount Eurymedon was broken, and the summit became visible to the entirety of Priene.

The highest of peaks, the eternal bridge to the stars, and the feared abode of the Goddess Adonaios groaned under the pressure of the malevolent radiance. It morphed into a bounded cage that surrounded the Caphygae Palace, isolating it under the gaze of the Temple of Stars' magi.

Nysa realized that she had regained control of her movements. The lingering pain around her body had all but faded, and her breathing grew even. Despite having been ready to accept death, the sweet taste of her returning life left her strangely exhilarated.

"Your Excellency!" The Priestess bellowed, confused by the sudden turn of events. "What happened? What was that light?!"

The Bishop clutched his effigy with enough force to draw blood, his gaze trembling. "Someone... The Profaners..."

He suddenly turned towards Nysa, fury bubbling barely underneath his veil of calmness.

"It was your plan all along, wasn't it? That light reeks of the Reverse Boundary of the World's miasma. To be able to imprison the Caphygae Palace... This feat requires at least a Horror-class Eidolon. I do not know which monstrosity your allies have summoned, but it effectively cut us off from the rest of our forces."

"What do you mean, Bishop?!" The Priestess became more and more restless.

"I sensed a similar, yet weaker tremor from the Great Sanctuary. The Pontiffs, as well as the Archbishops, are likely imprisoned in the Luminous House. The Bishops and lower clergy are currently fighting the Profaners within the Divine Capital, and with our most powerful magi sealed, we're crippled. There won't be any help coming any time soon—"

Nysa moved while he was in the midst of his explanation. Her figure blurred, traveling across the shadows to reach the Priestess. Her grip around her dagger tightened, and she tried to slash the Priestess' neck, only to be parried by an arrow of light.

The Bishop brandished his bronze bow again, a determined glint shining in his eyes.

"How impudent. You thought us bemused by your kind's underhanded tactics and tried to kill us off as quickly as possible," he spat, slowly regaining his calm. "You know that the situation is not as desperate as it appears. The spell confining the Caphygae Palace and the Great Sanctuary is of dubious effect. Even an Ephialtes-class Eidolon could not hope to imprison a Hallowed Sovereign for long, meaning this is only temporary."

He nocked another arrow of light, ready to fire at Nysa's every movement.

"The Five Graces are now aware that an assassin is after the Honored One's life. As soon as they break through the prison, they will prioritize retrieving him first. All five of them are at the level of a Divine Apostle. Combine their strength with the divine might of our Goddess, and the seal shackling them may very well crumble in the following seconds."

His expression softened as he displayed a taunting smile. "Time is still in our favor, Shadowbinder."

Nysa bit her lower lip, remembering her mother's orders and the Veiled Matriarch.

No matter her state or her end, whether she succumbed or survived, the Celestial Offering had to die before the day of the Sacrificial Ceremony.

With those last figments steeling her for the upcoming hurdle, she slid a thinly ornamented black needle from underneath her sleeve, briefly glancing at its delicate patterns.

The Bishop seemed to sense something amiss and started firing another rain of golden quarrels at her. This time, he alternated the speed and power of each shot, not giving Nysa the luxury to adapt herself to their patterns and making her evasion that much more difficult.

Still, she easily dodged them by melting into her own shadow, only emerging at the top of a half-collapsed pillar.

"O Great Shades," she chanted, dense Mana escaping her body. "I give thee mine flesh, mine blood, and mine soul to devour as thee wish. In return, bless me, for a flickering moment, with the might of a Tenebrous."

Emerald-green coils rose from under her robe, her mourning veil fluttered alongside her hair, and her Relics hummed in a rhythmic choir.

The next moment, she stabbed herself in the throat with the needle.

The Bishop paused, and the Priestess' eyes widened in surprise, though none of them were naive enough to think she had committed suicide.

The thin Relic liquefied into a black ooze that spread like veins across her face. The sclera of her sole eye darkened, and its iris displayed a grayish shimmer that didn't belong to this world.

In an instant, her presence transcended the bounds of an Occultist, emitting a pressure that made the Temple of Stars' magi break into a sweat.

For the next ten minutes, and at the cost of half her lifespan, Nysa's Mana would grow powerful enough to rival a Thaumaturge, allowing her to become a Tenebrous—the 7th class of the Night Sorceries.

Enthralled by her newfound strength, Nysa directed a sneer at the Bishop. "Are you still certain that you can hold me down now?"

Despite her overwhelming aura, the astral magus merely smiled, clutching the stone-sculpted statue in his hand.

"It seems ours is a battle of wills." His grip strengthened, and cracks soon appeared on the effigy. "Fine, then. I shall accept your challenge."

He pressed the statue one last time, and it crumbled.

Golden Mana immediately surged in a fierce tide around his body, ascending to the sky.

"May the Goddess reign supreme. Hers is the most sublime form, and to her, I shall pray, to the stars, I shall return, and in the Firmament, I shall slumber."

A deep, resounding roar shook the surroundings amidst his chant, and a blinding bolt fell from above, shrouding his figure in its fierce light.

"I accept the burden of Parthenos, and its mighty quiver, which holds thunder and bolts. Bless mine soul with thy kiss, O Lightning Bearer."

The rumble of a storm echoed as black clouds were birthed into existence. They circled and danced around the Bishop's rising Mana pillar, which only abated once the ground was scorched and the temple ruined.

Half his body was charred, hosting chaotic strands of bluish glimmer that sizzled with wrath from beyond. He clasped a giant, silvery quiver nearly his size, which held seven crackling spears of lightning too potent to be the weapons of mere Occultists.

The Bishop, too, had ascended to the level of a Thaumaturge.

Nysa's mocking smile widened into a grin, as she, for a fleeting instant, found pleasure in a fight tied to her purpose. This was her ultimate confrontation, the battle in which her end would be decided.

She raised her palm, and the faint golden strands of daylight were stifled for good. The shadow of the pitch-black moon emerged from the darkness, and its dim luster gifted the entire area with a night that came too soon.

"Shall we begin?" Her tone was filled with unmistakable thrill.

The Bishop closed his seared fist around a silvery lightning bolt as he mirrored her excitement, beckoning her with a laugh.

"Come!"