“Come out, majesty,” someone said making the two young men freeze. Something caught Demyan’s eye further north from where they were, but Aeron maintained his focus on where they’d been. “I can smell your fear. No sense in hiding now.”
Aeron swallowed hard, looking to Demyan. The king nodded, making sure his feet were beneath him before Aeron stood, firing off a bolt of lightning at the person that spoke. He only caught a brief glimpse of what might have once been a tywyll man with clawed hands and bloodshot eyes. The man dodged, growling as he gave chase.
“Go, go!” Aeron commanded. They ran toward the others using Nadya as cover. The girl sent shards of ice flying at their attacker. Not that it did much good.
The ice melted before it got five feet from her hands thanks to the Hex Storm, making Aeron glance behind him. There were only three that Aeron could see. The odd tywyll man, another olven-esque creature with spikes protruding from his spine, and a third much younger man that also looked to be tywyll of some sort if the tywyll had a wasting disease that stole all their color. That one, Aeron noted as he ran, did not engage, standing stark still with a white staff in his clawed hands.
“Pain.”
It was a single word, barely uttered in a tongue that seemed so foreign but oddly familiar as well. It reverberated across the entire length and width of the catacombs. It dropped the tywyll chasing them, but it also dropped everyone else into a ball of agony that ripped through their minds and turned their muscles to jelly. Aeron cried out, hearing the others do the same. Even Aisling screamed, the gryphon falling over as another creature charged her from behind the boy with the staff.
“That is a lovely trick, Moppet, you must teach me when this is over. I thought you might like some thematic music for the moment. Such intensity!” the beast with spines said. Aeron frowned, but took the opportunity to get his feet under him again, forcing compliance of his Power to pull the marble closest to the boy with the staff down atop his head. It worked, the pain coming to an end in an instant.
“Roth, do something useful!” the tywyll hunter growled as he recovered. The vile creature with the bones paused and stared at him, blinking rather benignly.
“Change in tune? Very well…” he said and began to pound out a faster beat with a set of bones that made Aeron's stomach roil. “Phier. It’s cold down here.”
Aeron did not know what that meant, but he did not like the chill it sent down his spine.
“Move!” Aeron hollered. Everyone scrambled forward, Demyan stumbling a little more than everyone else. The spot directly beneath where the king had been swirled with violent black flames that created a vortex of burning wind until forming itself into a black phoenix. The wings were tipped in red, its eyes the color of blood. The black flames lingered as the great big beast of a bird alighted on the vile creature’s back. Aeron watched the creature that answered to "Roth" turn its head and grin as if knowing a terrible secret. The face that greeted the tirsai prince made Aeron’s heart stop.
“Danyel…” he breathed out, recognizing the creature for who it used to be - the Speaker of the Phoenix Empire.
“Burn, little worms,” Roth said. The entire passage ignited in black flames that tore through the marble, turning it to ash.
“Go! Go! Up to the surface!”
The Baron. The man shoved at them, forced them to climb until they all breached the surface as if being reborn. The light above was not so different as the light below, but the air hurt to breathe, the thunder roiling so loudly it was deafening. Aeron collapsed, feeling someone nearby and flinched.
“It’s me. It’s Kendall. Get up, Demyan, needs help. Please.”
She helped Aeron to his feet, pointing to where Vasily hovered over Demyan. Aisling barely moved and Master Barth was nowhere to be seen. The Baron was the last, nearly cresting the top when he was yanked back down into the dark of the catacombs.
“Gabriel!!” Nadya screeched. Aeron caught her while mentally commanding the heavy stone and marble back in place to block the passage down to the catacombs. Nadya fought, tears streaming down her face.
“No! What are you doing!”
“We have to go, highness!” Aeron argued, picking her up bodily to haul her away. Vasily assisted the king, unable to stand or walk without aid as the storm above sent a downpour of hot, acrid rain down upon their heads.
***
A wide expanse of snow stretched out before Mikhael. It went on forever, curving against the horizon. There was no sun, no moons, just snow.
“You need to leave this barren wasteland, pet,” the dragon-born woman said as she materialized beside him. She ran fingers through his hair, making him twist and writhe beneath her touch. He was doing something wrong. The field of snow should be a field of poppies, though how that would help was not something Mikhael understood. He felt worn down, beaten to dust, as cold and barren as the frigid snow.
“Try again,” Madhavi sighed, letting her arm drop to her thigh. He looked at her, taking in her appearance. It was different in the snow than in the cottage. That meant something, but the information would not surface. Her wings were different here, more angelic, and she had no tail or clawed, draconic feet. That made him look more closely at himself. His skin was pale, ashen with black spider veins crawling along his hands and arms, across what he could see of his chest.
“Mikhael! You’re not listening!”
He frowned, still looking at his hands.
“No,” he said finally. His voice was but a hoarse rasp. Ice.
“What?” Madhavi asked. She stepped in front of him, looking up into
