Bloody Ordeal

A demonic screech clawed at the onlookers' eardrums as the hands' crimson was slowly overcome by the white of Settan's Light.

They smoked and sizzled, the Light traveling through them and into the clouds above.

The clouds above became infested by the Empress' purifying Light, stopping the rain as the sky shone with a heavenly light.

In the next instant, the hands shattered into thousands of pieces, the Mana that created them losing its power as the clouds disappeared.

The short silence that followed was broken by a resounding cheer as the mortal citizens fervently fell to their knees and praised their ruler.

Fate and his friends didn't follow suit, but even they looked at the miniature sun in the sky with awe and wonder.

An Ascended was a realm many Arch-Mages had struggled to achieve for millennia, a realm only a handful throughout history had ever achieved.

The Ascended were quite literally gods, capable of changing the world to their whims, as the hands had demonstrated. This immense power earned the worship of mortals and Mages alike, who fostered churches throughout the world in the hopes they'd please these lofty beings.

It was this same church that had performed Fate's Awakening Ceremony a month ago, the church that called Plehj its home.

But why hadn't the Empress, who was now an Ascended, ascend?

The church preached that when one became an Ascended, the other gods would take them away to the land of the gods, as their mighty power was too much for Ziobrun's lowly existence to contain.

Fate was never a religious man, but this had been the truth since the very first Ascended, who had left Ziobrun to spare it from their power. There were several historic accounts, journals, and even primitive recordings confirming this to be true.

So how was the Empress still here?

Could it be that the Ascended had rejected her?

Or did she stay behind willingly to save her subjects?

Fate didn't know, and it wasn't his place to ask the most powerful woman in the world such a question.

"Is it over?" he asked.

Kravoss, Pospo, and Gevum joined their masters in the ensuing quiet, no one willing to jinx it.

After seconds turned to minutes, the city let out a collective sigh of relief.

It was over.

And then, by some cruel trick of fate, they were proven wrong.

A sound surged over their heads, pounding at their ears and setting their hearts to work double-time.

It was a primal, animal sound, as if thousands of men had joined together to voice their frustrations in the most violent way possible.

The blood of the mortals ran cold, and the hairs on the back of Mages' necks stood on end.

The beating of war drums filled the air next, the beat hard and fast like the hearts of the mortal listeners.

Empress Settan glanced over at the commotion at the city gates and raised her hand to deal with this new threat.

Then the sky flashed red.

The clouds, having dispersed from her earlier attack, flowed back together over the heads of the humans, only for four holes to be torn through the crimson canvas.

Four hands, each as grim and feminine as the first two, slashed down with their claws at the Empress.

With the Empress preoccupied, the Guards in the street grew solemn as they pulled out weapons and marched toward the city walls, barring one.

"Everyone, inside your homes!" the remaining Guard yelled to the citizens in the street. Pointing at Fate and his friends, she said "You four Mages, with us!"

Fate and the others exchanged a worried glance, but followed the Guard as she sprinted for the city gates.

Like in Brergan, citizens had the obligation to defend their city whenever it was attacked.

But in cities like this, where the only major threats were those that could kill a mortal with a single swipe of the hand, non-Mages would be nothing more than burdens.

So it was up to the Mages to rally together and drive off raids.

As they ran, Fate pulled out the sword he had pilfered from Gorn, shifting his grip on the hilt to one more comfortable. In his other hand, his wand appeared, which he slid into his right boot so he could hold the heavy sword with both hands.

Beside him, Cait's tail manifested in a whirl of brown lights, her hand reaching to her Will Pendant to confirm it was there.

Venden and Samantha manifested a wand in one hand and a short dagger in the other, their expressions dark as they sheathed their wands in holsters hidden in the folds of their robes in Venden's case and under their pant leg in Samantha's case.

While holding a wand in one's hand was the norm in duels and the like, in actual battles with life at stake, it was more common to stash them somewhere on one's person.

A wand in one's hand could be knocked out of it, and gave away a potential weakness to exploit. There was also the matter of fighters like Fate and most Guards under the sun, who preferred to use weapons.

The only reason the wands were made in the shape they were was for convenience. It was much easier to fit the necessary Imprints into an object with more volume and conventional shapes, not to mention easier to mass-produce.

Items like Cait's pendant were the exception, not the norm, and required exceptional skill to craft.

Their Familiars hovered or flew or ran along with their masters, all seven of them advancing with the very sudden realization that their peaceful lives were over.

But rather than feeling sad about such a thing, Fate felt excited.

He'd been couped up in the Academy for over a month now, reduced to a scholar attending lectures and reading books, stagnating in his Facet.

Now, he could let loose some of the frustration he had been feeling.

As the walls grew closer in the distance, the first time Fate had seen them without the large buildings within blocking his view, Cait's mouth split into a grin, her pearly white, lengthy canines sparkling under the red light of the clouds above as her eyes blazed with the same excitement Fate felt.

Samantha and Venden could only shake their heads in wonder at their reaction, before preparing themselves for the bloody ordeal ahead.