Once again, the cavern was filled with violet light that ebbed and flowed with the magic of the necromages. Three large undead stood motionless in the center of the glowing glyphs. Kryos placed one hand on the chest of the first zombie. His eyes gleamed brilliantly with power as the shimmering spirals of his magic burned across his forearm and into the creature. The light and darkness of his soul danced like flames, but more slowly as if submerged, with fragments of the ethereal magic breaking off into small, spinning shards that rose and faded to nothing. Within the chest wall and beyond the material plane, he wrapped the creature’s bound soul in his magic and began the augmentation process.
A high-pitched cry interrupted his thoughts, followed by clashing, banging and the general chorus of combat. It echoed from the stone tunnel that lead beyond the walls of the city. In mere seconds the sound grew to a crescendo. A mass of brown and gray barreled into the chamber with an earsplitting shriek. Feathered wings plowed into the line of necromancers behind him as claws carved arcs of blood and flesh through the air. The hybrid roared again before plunging its beak into another’s chest.
Large hands encircled Kryos’ neck as the violet light from the floor flickered out, threatening to crush his throat. The berserker undead he had been manipulating bellowed and lifted him off the ground. Eyes narrowing in rage, Kryos clenched and twisted the hand still resting on the brute’s chest. His magic instantly shifted, becoming blades that tore through the soul, ripping the ties that bound it to its body.
He landed in a crouch, eyes taking in the chaos in the cavern. Obsidian magic blazing around his hands, he leapt forward, over the body of the undead, and slammed both fists into the chest of the second rampaging zombie, before turning to deal with the third.
It lunged. Kryos ducked under the outstretched arms and, as it flew past, he kicked its legs. As the creature stumbled, he leapt after it and, after slightly changing his magic, struck it square in the back. It crashed to the floor.
Turning, he looked past the remaining necromancers struggling to retake control of the beast and settled his gaze on the hybrid griffin. It roared in defiance, eyes enraged and wings beating furiously. Kryos’ still glowing crimson eyes narrowed as he gazed upon the monster’s soul.
What had been a harmony of two resonating souls was now a fractured struggle for dominance. And at the center, a void. Something had been ripped out and destroyed.
Cold steel reflected torchlight as Kryos unsheathed his sword from his back. As the griffin turned towards him, he took a deep breath and settled into a low stance, sword pointed down and away. His mind cleared and his eyes focused solely on his opponent.
Time slowed.
He could see every twitch of its head, every bristling feather and flexing muscle. The creature crouched, a snake poised to strike, before exploding towards him, wings and talons outstretched. Kryos dodged down and to the right, simultaneously avoiding the beak aimed for his heart as well as the claws. As the talons sailed over his head with mere inches to spare, he rose, swinging his blade where wing met body.
The hybrid crashed to the ground behind him with a scream of agony with the now severed wing traveling on until it hit the far wall.
Bloodlust in its eyes, the creature rose and charged. He deflected the swipe from the outstretched claw, moving towards the wounded side. As he skirted around, the hybrid grabbed his blade with its beak, ripping it free from his grasp. Keeping his momentum, he spun while simultaneously drawing the shorter blade from its place at his lower back before plunging it into the creature’s side. Brilliant ethereal flames erupted from the blade and into the creature, racing to the raging soul. As his magic filled the void, the screeching subsided and the beast stilled. Placing both hands over the hilt, he twisted the sword as his magic severed all connections the two souls had. His hybrid relaxed to the ground, eyes closing as the two souls faded from his view and into the Realm of Souls beyond.
With a grunt, he pulled his blade from the fallen body and turned to see the destruction. At least ten of the mages with Kryos had been torn apart. That mattered little, as they would be brought back before days end. The concerning fact was the damage to the floor of the cavern; large cracks ran through the stone, branching out like spider webbing. Either the damage would need to be repaired or he would need to move locations before further augmentations through soul magic could continue safely.
“Kryos, the Master wishes to see you.”
The Dwiilar sighed and allowed his eyes return to their normal state.
“Yeah, I bet he does,” he muttered as he retrieved his longer sword from where the hybrid threw it. Digging through the debris of the crushed table, he found his journal to be intact. He grabbed his cloak and turned to the necromage who had addressed him.
“Let him know that I expect an explanation as to what happened to their souls,” he ordered, motioning to the large corpse in the center of the room. “And if you have nothing better to do, start clearing things up.”
“Remember your place. We only answer to our Master.” The words slithered out like the hiss from a snake’s tongue.
Kryos’ sword appeared at the man’s throat before the words ceased echoing. White flames rippled along the edge.
“I don’t care if you can be brought back over and over,” he snarled. “It doesn’t lessen the pain of your soul getting torn from this plane of existence. Maeril is not my master. You’d do well to remember that.”
The undead mage said nothing and only glared at the Dwiilar.
Turning away, Kryos headed toward the passage that would lead to the Dread Lord. He disappeared into the darkness, the path only illuminated by the magic that still glowed on his open blade.
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