Chapter 39: Invasion

Chapter 39: Invasion

“Guys,” Glenny muttered with a shiver. “I’m hearing whispers again.”

Both parties looked at each other, or rather, faced each other. From the amount of crimson liquid pouring from the cowls of the intruders, Leland took a wild guess that they were eyeless.

“They’re blind, right?” he asked, summoning forth his grimoire.

Each figure held an arm out and palms up. They waited there, silently praying for fuel. Red soon sparked along their open hands, like ill-defined crackling lightning. It splintered and flickered as energy passed through one reality and into their own.

One by one the cultists accepted their ‘Lord’s’ sacrifice, consuming it with open minds. It absorbed into their skin, lighting their veins and muscles from underneath. Soon the light traversed through their bodies, entering their heart and soul.

Leland snarled at the familiar showcase. “I think they just accepted a part of their ‘Lord’s’ soul into themselves.”

Despite being a dozen paces away, one cultist swiveled at Leland’s words, locking eyes with him. “You have knowledge you should not,” the woman said. “How interesting.”

Leland’s grimoire flipped to a contract. He hesitated on which to choose, deciding to enact the Lord of Magic’s potency boon for the simple fact that he didn’t know how the cultists would react to additional emotions. If the Sightless King already controlled them, who knew whether they had any humanity left?

As Glenny disappeared into the fog, a shriek whistle cut through the air. A moment later Jude catapulted himself toward his target.

“Maul,” Leland whispered, focusing on the woman who had spoken earlier.

Crows entered the fight, blazing down like green meteors. They took to their target, aiding Jude in combat. Suddenly Glenny appeared as well, both daggers finding the red robes of the Sightless.

Pain erupted from the woman’s spine, breaking her guard. The crows attacked any and all open skin, primarily the bloodied face under the hood. It didn’t matter much, as Jude swung down with a mighty cry. The woman’s skull was split open.

Leland recoiled but quickly found a new target. He commanded his birds, moving them to the next cultist with haste.

“Fracture,” he whispered with a snap.

“Fracture.”

“Fracture.”

The man screeched in pain, only for a dagger to slit his throat a moment later. At the same time, Jude removed another’s hand from her wrist.

Leland took a deep breath, focusing on the last one. “Slow,” he said, connecting his heart to the cultist’s.

Unreadable emotions flooded Leland’s mind, each screaming over one another for dominance. Pain, fear, happiness, satisfaction. They consumed his sight, overloading him like steam overflowing from a sealed pot. He was ready to explode, he was ready to give his life away. It wasn’t his anymore, it was the thing he... he...

Breath came back to Leland just in time to see Jude remove the man’s head. He grimaced at the sight, the spray of blood something he never quite got used to. His normal emotions came back a moment later, and he finally collapsed. He fell to his butt, finding the hard ground oddly soft. He needed to sleep, his head was still throbbing.

“You good, Leals?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “I just need rest. Anyone hurt? I need a minute.”

“No, they were pushovers,” Glenny answered. “Civilians, look.”

He pointed to the nearest cultist’s hand, more specifically the tattoo of a barrel flowing with foamy beer. Jude frowned at that, nudging another’s hand with his axe, revealing a tattoo of a man carrying a box.

“Lord of Brews and Lord of Labor,” Glenny cursed.

Jude flipped over the severed hand. “This one is a Legacy of the Lord of Currency. A banker most likely.” He then checked the woman who had spoken. “I don’t recognize this tattoo. Either of you?”

“S-something powerful is here,” he seethed. “The whispering is growing stronger.”

The others nodded, stepping forward carefully. They filed through the kitchen and back hallways, eventually finding themselves behind the mansion entirely. The wake of battle had suddenly stopped but quiet chanting had started.

They peered through the window, finding a wide arc of red. Dozens of cultists stood shoulder to shoulder, each mirror images of one another. They wore the same robes, bled from their obscured faces, and each held weapons. They murmured off language, non-words for whatever sick song they sang.

Off to one side was Alkin clutching the spirit fire candle for dear life. Blood trickled from a cut along his forehead and eye, one deep yet superficial. He was crouched, his small frame covering his unconscious mother and fearful sister. Lady Onryo lay in a pool of blood, her hair matted and scalp butchered.

Lady Mavi looked the most healthy of the three, but her fear filled eyes told a different story. She held her gaze on the source of their torment, a woman wearing prime white robes.

The woman faced off against Boor, each fighting to a standstill while the chanting grew louder by the second.

Leland paused at the woman’s appearance. Beside the difference in wear, she was also the only cultist with their hood down. Her eyes were gone, only grayed sockets remnants of what was once present. Thick glowing veins appeared along her face, each tracing into the dry sockets like fuel lines.

Glenny shuddered, his hands clamping over his daggers. “I can’t let go,”

“We need to help, but how?” Jude asked.

“Do you recognize how the woman is battling Boor? I can’t even see her attacks.” Leland said.

The woman moved like a puppet on strings. She glided around the air, moving her limbs in odd angles or jerky motions. Every attack of Boor’s was parried away from an unseen force or blocked from the woman’s own hand.

“How is she blocking with her naked hand?”

“I-I can’t let go,” Glenny said again.

“She’s not,” Leland answered. “There’s a small gap between her hand and Boor’s sword. She’s controlling something invisible. Maybe a suit of armor?”

“Guys, help, please.”

Leland and Jude both looked over. Glenny sat there shaking, both hands stark white around his weapons. Slowly, Jude reached over and pried the daggers from his friend.

“Is it the whispers?”

Glenny harshly nodded. “I-i-it’s the chanting! It’s so loud! Make it stop! Please!”

Leland and Jude looked to one another then back outside. A silent agreement overcame the pair and they took up arms.

“We’ll be right back, Glenny. Don’t move.” They didn’t wait for an answer.

Leland’s grimoire flipped to its newest page. Harbinger Halo had long faded and the one hour cool down had yet to be fulfilled, but he still had an available boon. He ignored the pain in his mind and focused on his Legacy.

As Jude jumped into the fray of red robes, Leland spoke the powerwords for his newest curse.

“Kneel before me.”

Violet flames engulfed his vision as his domain spread out. Five yards was all he had to work with, so he set his sights in the center of the pack cultists. Soon enough purple flames sprouted from the ground along with the souls of the Damned.

Next to Leland a familiar soul entered the realm of the living. It held out an ethereal hand, offering the lost soul it had kept safe for its master.