2025-04-19 19:13:01The allied forces of Tempestria stood assembled at the edge of the Black Plains as the twin moons painted the wasteland in silver and blood. Catriona tightened her grip on the staff, its druidic runes pulsing like a second heartbeat. The air reeked of sulfur and iron—a metallic tang that clung to the back of her throat.
Daelen moved through the ranks, adjusting straps on a young soldier's armor. "Steady," he murmured. "Hold the line until my signal." Catriona watched him. The way his shadow stretched long behind him, darker than it should have been. She'd noticed it weeks ago but chalked it up to the strange light of the other world. Now, she wasn't so sure. Mandalee materialized beside her, breath fogging in the cold air. "Scouts haven't returned." Her fingers tapped the hilt of her dagger—three quick beats. A nervous habit Catriona had come to recognize. A gust of wind howled across the plains, carrying with it the distant sound of clanking metal. They were coming. The horizon erupted in a wave of fire. Kullos' army advanced like a living tsunami—thousands of soldiers in obsidian armor, their eyes burning with violet flames. At their center loomed the Siege Engine: a grotesque fusion of flesh and iron, its ribs pulsing with stolen magic. Tendrils of smoke coiled from its maw, forming screaming faces before dissipating. "That's not just a weapon," Catriona whispered. "It's *alive*." Daelen's jaw tightened. "We break their center. Mandalee—" "Already on it." The assassin vanished into the mist. Catriona planted her staff into the earth. Vines erupted from the cracked ground, weaving a barrier just as the first volley of arrows blotted out the moons. For three brutal hours, they held. Catriona's arms trembled as she channeled another shield, deflecting a ballista bolt meant for Daelen. He nodded thanks before cleaving through two attackers with a single swing. Nearby, Mandalee danced between shadows, her daggers finding gaps in armor with surgical precision. Then the Siege Engine screamed A beam of violet light lanced across the battlefield. Where it struck, soldiers collapsed—not dead, but worse. Their shadows *detached*, twisting into clawed wraiths that turned on their former comrades. "Fall back!"Daelen roared. A young recruit stumbled into Catriona, his face ashen. "T-they're behind us too! We're surrounded" An arrow took him in the throat. They fought toward the Siege Engine, the ground slick with blood and shadow. Just paces from its pulsating core, a figure emerged from the smoke. 'Hello, brother." Daelen froze. The voice was his own—if his voice had been dragged through broken glass. Kullos lifted his visor. Catriona's breath hitched. Same scar over the left eyebrow. Same crooked nose from a long-ago brawl.Only the eyes were different—Daelen's were storm-gray; these burned with sickly violet light. "You," Daelen breathed. "Me." Kullos spread his arms. "The shadow you cast when you burned Lythara. The screams you ignored 'for the greater good.'" He tapped his temple."I've always been here." Mandalee lunged—only for Kullos to backhand her aside like a doll. Her body crumpled against a rock, motionless. Catriona's staff flared, but dark tendrils snaked up her arms, freezing her in place. "Join me," Kullos crooned. "Or watch as I peel Tempestria apart layer by layer." Behind him, the Siege Engine shuddered. The air * ripped open—a jagged portal revealing an endless legion of shadow warriors. An explosion rocked the plains. Catriona was hurled backward, the world spinning. She landed hard, her vision swimming. Through the smoke, she saw: Daelen on his knees, sword shattered Mandalee's limp hand twitching in the dirt The portal stretching, something colossal pushing through Then a flash of white light. When Catriona blinked the spots from her eyes, a new figure stood between them and the abyss. A woman in silver armor, wielding a sword made of moonlight. Kullos hissed. You. The stranger raised her blade—
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The silver warrior's arrival split the battlefield like lightning. Catriona blinked blood from her eyes as the woman's armor - liquid moonlight given form - refracted the dying fires into prismatic shards across the wasteland. Every step she took left glowing footprints that burned away the shadowy tendrils snaking toward Catriona's fallen form. "Elara." Kullos spat the name like a curse, his violet eyes flickering with something beyond hatred. Recognition. History. The silver warrior's visor retracted with a whisper of enchanted metal. Beneath it lay a face that shouldn't exist - youthful features etched with ancient sorrow, eyes like polished mercury containing entire sagas of pain. When she spoke, her voice resonated with harmonics no human throat could produce: You were warned when last the Black Star alignedCatriona's fingers clawed at the blood-soaked earth. Every muscle screamed in protest as she tried to rise. The dark magic Kullos had used on her left phantom spiders
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The cave walls pulsed like a living throat around them. Catriona pressed her palm flat against the damp stone and felt it throb beneath her fingers. Each heartbeat sent another trickle of thick, milky fluid oozing from cracks in the rock. The air tasted metallic, coating her tongue with the flavor of old blood and lightning. Mandalee sagged against her, the assassin's breathing coming in wet, ragged gasps. Her broken arm hung at a sickening angle, the makeshift splint doing little to help. Every step made her hiss through clenched teeth. "Don't stop," Mandalee whispered. "It's tasting our fear." Catriona didn't ask how she knew. The blue mushrooms lighting their path pulsed faster as they passed, their glow revealing long scratches in the stone - not from claws, but from something with too many joints in its fingers. A sound like cracking bone echoed through the tunnel. The wall behind them bulged inward, stone stretching like rotting flesh. Five elongated fingers pressed ag
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The boy's fingers were colder than winter bedrock. Catriona tried to pull away, but his grip tightened like iron shackles. Behind them, Mandalee's screams cut off abruptly with a wet crunch. The smell of copper flooded the cavern. "Don't look back, mother," the boy chirped, dragging her toward the yawning tower door. "Uncle gets cranky when people stare." Something massive shifted in the darkness behind them. The cave walls trembled, shedding chunks of glowing fungus that died before they hit the ground. The tower interior smelled of burnt sugar and rotting parchment. The boy's bare feet left bloody prints on the crystalline floor that faded after three steps, as if the tower itself was drinking them in. "See what I made?" He pointed upward with his free hand. Catriona's breath caught. The ceiling wasn't stone—it was a vast web of silver threads, each strand holding a pulsing light. Some were bright as stars, others guttering like dying candles. As she watched, one winke
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White fire burned behind Catriona's eyes. She stumbled after Daelen, her boots slipping on the tower's liquefying floors. The explosion had shattered her hearing—the world came in muffled bursts, like listening through wool. Daelen's grip on her wrist was fire and frost combined. His black eyes leaked tendrils of smoke that curled away like living things. When he spoke, three voices wrestled in his throat: "Run—don't look—keep moving—" The cavern outside was collapsing. Great chunks of ceiling plummeted around them, shattering into clouds of crystalline dust that stung Catriona's lungs. Through the haze, she glimpsed the remains of the silver web—threads snapping one by one as the freed lights winked out of existence. Something moved in the dust. A child's silhouette, missing an arm, its head lolling at an impossible angle. "Mother..." The voice came from everywhere at once, vibrating in Catriona's molars. "You forgot your gift..." The beating heart came flying out of
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The water burned like frozen fire. Catriona thrashed toward the torch-lit outcropping, her waterlogged robes dragging her down. The current tugged at her legs with unnatural persistence—not like flowing water, but like grasping hands. Her fingers found purchase on the slick stone. As she hauled herself up, the torchlight revealed the truth of the prison: The walls weren't stone. They were fused bones. Thousands of skeletons packed together so tightly their outlines blurred into a single ossified mass. Each cell door was a ribcage pried open, the bars made from interlocking spinal columns. The air smelled of wet limestone and spoiled meat. Something splashed behind her. Catriona spun, staff raised—only to freeze at the sight of Daelen dragging himself onto the rocks. His sword's blue flame had reduced to a guttering spark, revealing the true extent of his corruption: Black veins spiderwebbed across his chest, pulsing in time with the distant, fading screams from above. Hi
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The screaming wouldn't stop. Catriona pressed her hands against her ears, but the sound wasn't coming from outside. It vibrated inside her skull, rattling her teeth and bones. The prison walls shuddered, raining down black dust that stung her eyes. The water around the platform churned violently. Something huge moved beneath the surface, making the stones tremble under Catriona's feet. Elara's chains clanked as she struggled. **"TOO LATE,"** her voice boomed. **"HE'S WOKEN UP."** Daelen's sword lay cold and dark on the stones. Catriona grabbed it anyway, the metal freezing her fingers. Before she could think, part of the bone wall crumbled, revealing a narrow tunnel. She ran. The tunnel sloped upward, its walls oozing black liquid that smelled like rotting meat. Catriona gasped for air as she climbed, the darkness pressing in around her. Far above, a faint green glow pulsed like a heartbeat. Her fingers slipped on the wet stone. She fell forward, scraping her knees, but
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The floating knife trembled in the air, its stained edge glinting in the eerie green light. Catriona's breath caught in her throat as the blade slowly turned to point at her chest. The small skeletal creatures paused their advance, their hollow eye sockets fixed on the hovering weapon. A drop of sweat rolled down Catriona's temple as she stood frozen. The staff in her left hand burned hotter, its carvings pulsing with that same relentless command: **REMEMBER** The knife shot forward. Catriona barely had time to raise Daelen's dead sword as a shield. The blades met with a shriek of metal that sent sparks flying. The impact knocked her backward into the crumbling altar, pain lancing up her spine. The knife circled like a hungry hawk, preparing to strike again. The not-boy clapped its hands together, the sound echoing unnaturally through the chamber. "Oh, she remembers now! She remembers everything!" Its form blurred between child and shadow, its laughter like breaking glass.
GATHERING STORM chapter 17
The world dissolved into screaming whiteness. Catriona's bones vibrated with the force of the explosion, her skin prickling as if a thousand needles pierced her all at once. The knife and staff fused together in her hands, the wood swallowing the blade like a hungry mouth. Green and silver light pulsed through the chamber in nauseating waves. The not-boy's shrieks rose above the chaos, his form stretching and warping as the silver threads wrapped tighter around him. "NO! NOT LIKE THIS!" His voice shifted through dozens of tones—child, woman, monster—before settling into something ancient and terrible. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" The ground heaved. Cracks raced up the walls as the cradles shattered one by one, their tiny skeletal occupants crumbling to dust mid-air. The altar split down the center, revealing a yawning void beneath. Elara staggered forward, her skeletal hands grasping at Catriona's arm. "The threads...they need an anchor!" Her hollow eyes darted to the fu
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Morning light spilled through the hut's single window, painting golden stripes across the dirt floor. Catriona sat by the cold hearth, watching dust motes dance in the sunbeams. The child—her child—still slept curled on the pallet, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm she'd once thought impossible for him. Daelen entered quietly, his arms full of firewood. The silver had completely faded from his eyes now, leaving them the familiar storm-gray she remembered from their first meeting. He set the wood down with exaggerated care, glancing at the sleeping form. "Still out?" he whispered. Catriona nodded. Three days since the cycle broke, and the boy had barely stirred except to eat the simple stews Daelen prepared or drink from the water skin she held to his lips. His sleep was deep, dreamless—the first true rest after centuries of hunger. She ran a thumb over the white staff lying across her lap. The carvings had changed again, the runes smoothing into something softe
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The world returned in pieces. First came the ache—a deep, throbbing pain that started in Catriona's bones and radiated outward. Then the smells—woodsmoke and damp earth and something sweet like dried herbs. Finally, the light—golden and flickering against her closed eyelids. She opened her eyes to a rough wooden ceiling. The fire crackled nearby in a stone hearth, its warmth reaching across the small hut to where she lay on a straw-stuffed pallet. The white staff rested against the wall, its glow dimmed to a faint pulse like a sleeping heartbeat. And in her arms— The child. Not the monstrous not-boy. Not the screaming shadow. Just a boy, perhaps five years old, with dark hair sticking to his damp forehead and long lashes brushing round cheeks. His chest rose and fell steadily, one small hand clutching Catriona's tunic even in sleep. Catriona's breath caught. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen something so... peaceful. The silver thread was gone. She felt its
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Catriona opened her eyes to darkness. Not the empty dark of night, but the thick, suffocating dark of deep earth. She lay on cold stone, her body aching as if she'd fallen from a great height. The staff—now white as bone—lay beside her, its faint glow showing rough walls pressing close on all sides. She sat up slowly. Her hands shook. The last thing she remembered was the white fire burning through her, the not-boy's voice whispering as he disappeared. Now she was... where? A soft sound made her turn. The silver thread floated in the air behind her, twisting gently like a snake swimming through water. It pulsed with a light that didn't chase away the dark, but made it somehow softer. Less hungry. "Elara?" Catriona reached for it. The thread darted away, then curled back, beckoning. She grabbed the staff and stood, her legs unsteady. The thread led her through narrow tunnels that twisted and turned. The walls here were different—not bone or stone, but something smooth and
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The world dissolved into screaming whiteness. Catriona's bones vibrated with the force of the explosion, her skin prickling as if a thousand needles pierced her all at once. The knife and staff fused together in her hands, the wood swallowing the blade like a hungry mouth. Green and silver light pulsed through the chamber in nauseating waves. The not-boy's shrieks rose above the chaos, his form stretching and warping as the silver threads wrapped tighter around him. "NO! NOT LIKE THIS!" His voice shifted through dozens of tones—child, woman, monster—before settling into something ancient and terrible. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE!" The ground heaved. Cracks raced up the walls as the cradles shattered one by one, their tiny skeletal occupants crumbling to dust mid-air. The altar split down the center, revealing a yawning void beneath. Elara staggered forward, her skeletal hands grasping at Catriona's arm. "The threads...they need an anchor!" Her hollow eyes darted to the fu
CHAPTER 16
The floating knife trembled in the air, its stained edge glinting in the eerie green light. Catriona's breath caught in her throat as the blade slowly turned to point at her chest. The small skeletal creatures paused their advance, their hollow eye sockets fixed on the hovering weapon. A drop of sweat rolled down Catriona's temple as she stood frozen. The staff in her left hand burned hotter, its carvings pulsing with that same relentless command: **REMEMBER** The knife shot forward. Catriona barely had time to raise Daelen's dead sword as a shield. The blades met with a shriek of metal that sent sparks flying. The impact knocked her backward into the crumbling altar, pain lancing up her spine. The knife circled like a hungry hawk, preparing to strike again. The not-boy clapped its hands together, the sound echoing unnaturally through the chamber. "Oh, she remembers now! She remembers everything!" Its form blurred between child and shadow, its laughter like breaking glass.
CHAPTER 15
The screaming wouldn't stop. Catriona pressed her hands against her ears, but the sound wasn't coming from outside. It vibrated inside her skull, rattling her teeth and bones. The prison walls shuddered, raining down black dust that stung her eyes. The water around the platform churned violently. Something huge moved beneath the surface, making the stones tremble under Catriona's feet. Elara's chains clanked as she struggled. **"TOO LATE,"** her voice boomed. **"HE'S WOKEN UP."** Daelen's sword lay cold and dark on the stones. Catriona grabbed it anyway, the metal freezing her fingers. Before she could think, part of the bone wall crumbled, revealing a narrow tunnel. She ran. The tunnel sloped upward, its walls oozing black liquid that smelled like rotting meat. Catriona gasped for air as she climbed, the darkness pressing in around her. Far above, a faint green glow pulsed like a heartbeat. Her fingers slipped on the wet stone. She fell forward, scraping her knees, but
CHAPTER 14
The water burned like frozen fire. Catriona thrashed toward the torch-lit outcropping, her waterlogged robes dragging her down. The current tugged at her legs with unnatural persistence—not like flowing water, but like grasping hands. Her fingers found purchase on the slick stone. As she hauled herself up, the torchlight revealed the truth of the prison: The walls weren't stone. They were fused bones. Thousands of skeletons packed together so tightly their outlines blurred into a single ossified mass. Each cell door was a ribcage pried open, the bars made from interlocking spinal columns. The air smelled of wet limestone and spoiled meat. Something splashed behind her. Catriona spun, staff raised—only to freeze at the sight of Daelen dragging himself onto the rocks. His sword's blue flame had reduced to a guttering spark, revealing the true extent of his corruption: Black veins spiderwebbed across his chest, pulsing in time with the distant, fading screams from above. Hi
CHAPTER 13
White fire burned behind Catriona's eyes. She stumbled after Daelen, her boots slipping on the tower's liquefying floors. The explosion had shattered her hearing—the world came in muffled bursts, like listening through wool. Daelen's grip on her wrist was fire and frost combined. His black eyes leaked tendrils of smoke that curled away like living things. When he spoke, three voices wrestled in his throat: "Run—don't look—keep moving—" The cavern outside was collapsing. Great chunks of ceiling plummeted around them, shattering into clouds of crystalline dust that stung Catriona's lungs. Through the haze, she glimpsed the remains of the silver web—threads snapping one by one as the freed lights winked out of existence. Something moved in the dust. A child's silhouette, missing an arm, its head lolling at an impossible angle. "Mother..." The voice came from everywhere at once, vibrating in Catriona's molars. "You forgot your gift..." The beating heart came flying out of
CHAPTER 12
The boy's fingers were colder than winter bedrock. Catriona tried to pull away, but his grip tightened like iron shackles. Behind them, Mandalee's screams cut off abruptly with a wet crunch. The smell of copper flooded the cavern. "Don't look back, mother," the boy chirped, dragging her toward the yawning tower door. "Uncle gets cranky when people stare." Something massive shifted in the darkness behind them. The cave walls trembled, shedding chunks of glowing fungus that died before they hit the ground. The tower interior smelled of burnt sugar and rotting parchment. The boy's bare feet left bloody prints on the crystalline floor that faded after three steps, as if the tower itself was drinking them in. "See what I made?" He pointed upward with his free hand. Catriona's breath caught. The ceiling wasn't stone—it was a vast web of silver threads, each strand holding a pulsing light. Some were bright as stars, others guttering like dying candles. As she watched, one winke
