The swordsman looked at the small, thin black body with three clawed fingers on each hand and tiny, curved legs that ended in three clawed toes. Its head was gaunt and small nubs dotted the top. One of its eyes was partially closed but revealed faded yellow eyes. “I think this is…a Jota?”
Jazai knelt and flicked one of its long ears. “It is, but I’ve never heard of one with this color.”
“This place seems to darken everything within,” Asla commented and closed the imp’s eye. “It is possible that this is an Osirian jota.”
“The creatures stay together in packs.” Farah planted her sword into the dirt and knelt beside the wildkin. She ran a hand over the corpse and noted deep gashes in the flesh. “This one was injured even before it was struck by the missile. It was hiding from something.”
Wulfsun joined them and examined the wounds “These cuts aren’t from any beast I am aware of. Not to mention that it seems steeped in this cursed magic.”
“Was something trying to eat it?” Devol asked.
“I haven’t the foggiest notion, honestly. This looks like something attacked it merely because it could. Anyone and anything knows that jotas can be trouble even on their own, but it is always near a pack. You should kill it in one strike or retreat.” Wulfsun took a blade from his leather strap and peeled the edges of the wound back. “It’s jagged and there are flecks of something in there.”
“Of what?” Farah asked as Wulfsun removed his blade and took something from the tip.
He studied it with a frown where it remained stuck on his finger. “It appears to be…blood?”
“Well, given that it was cut open, it isn’t a surprise, is it?” Jazai questioned.
“The jota’s blood is still fresh. This is clotted and…black…” Wulfsun’s words faltered and his eyes widened as he shook the congealed blood off his finger. “Ah, hells!”
A rumble issued from inside the temple. Those crouched beside the carcass straightened hastily and all except the Templar jumped back as he prepared a shield. A large, dark hand reached quickly from inside the temple, snatched the man, and began to drag him in.
“Wulfsun!” Devol cried before shocked shouts came from behind him.
“Agh!” He and Asla turned to where Farah and Jazai struggled with something on the ground. What looked like hands with shadowy claws had emerged from under the abyssal dirt to grasp their ankles and attempt to pull them down.
The diviner began to fire his cantrips at their attackers. One of the arms let go and he forced himself back. He heard a loud crack in the process and realized that he was almost free, but the arm still held fast to his ankle.
Farah pointed her blade at the soil and shouted in rage as she thrust her blade into the muck. A swirl of bright light coursed down it and into the earth. In the next moment, the ground ripped apart in a bright eruption and a being streaked out.
It looked like a person dressed in dark robes and pants, although the symbols on the robes were familiar. They were similar to those worn by the scholars at the entrance of the dome. Its arms were skeletal and curved at the fingers like talons. Farah tried to catch hold of it but was forced to let go when the being tried to cut her face. It shuffled along the ground, twisted, and reshaped itself before it stopped slowly, facing up. Both arms raised and curved into a frightening angle to stretch back, flatten its hands on the ground, and push itself up. It hobbled forward, its face obscured by the hood of the robe before it raised its head slowly to look at the rest of the group. The face was dark but had more definition than the sketches. It appeared starkly gaunt and had the same white eyes as the drawing.
“A fiend,” Jazai said, his voice low enough to be almost a whisper as he extended his hand.
Two more dropped from above the temple. Asla felt a rumble beneath her and pushed Devol and Jazai out of the way when more hands thrust out to snatch them. They missed their quarry and the owners of the arms forced themselves from the dirt to glare balefully at the magi.
“Not merely a fiend,” Devol muttered and the flames coursed over his body as Asla gathered herself. Farah let light surge along her blade and Jazai began to build his mana. “Many, many fiends.”
“Look at their robes,” the wildkin said and glanced at those behind them. “And the armor on those…”
“I guess we know what happened to everyone who was lost inside, huh?” Jazai grimaced and formed a shield as a couple inched closer. The beings crept around the group and their claws reached out as they stared blankly at them with hollow lights in their eyes. Their robes dragged along the ground, all in various states of disrepair, and pieces of the armor of others cracked under the strain of movement.
“Can they be saved?” Farah asked as they closed in.
“Unfortunately, I don’t believe we’ll have the chance for that,” Devol stated and held his blade up. “We need to hurry and see what happened to Wulfsun.”
The captain steadied herself, nodded, and sliced quickly through a fiend. Its body erupted in light and faded to nothing. Another swiped her arm and its claws scratched at her armor but bounced off. She placed her hand against its skull and fed her light magic into it. The being’s eyes and mouth lit up as the magic surged within. It crumpled under her grasp before it turned into a dark fog that disappeared into the ground.
Asla fell on all fours and let her anima surge as it took the form of a feral cat. She launched herself at two
