Imogen’s black sphere flickered into existence, but Grunsch bore it before him, slamming his huge fists into the translucent wall, driving her through the air with a roar. Imogen turned calmly within her sphere to point her staff at Grunsch, and a spear of black light fled from its tip at the giant.
He leaped back, crossed his arms before him, and summoned a floating tower shield some ten feet high, its surface translucent yet ridged and carved so that Scorio thought he saw Grunsch’s roaring face depicted on its curved face.
At the same time, huge chunks of rock lifted from the ground and flew to interpose themselves between Grunsch and Imogen; each chunk limned in green flame, forming a wall of burning rock from floor to the Aureate Hall’s ceiling.
The black light from Imogen’s spear slashed through this wall, cut through Grunsch’s floating shield, and hit his crossed arms just as Nova pointed her scepter and hurled a beam of white light at him.
Scorio couldn’t follow the outcome; Grunsch flew backward, Nova still tracking him with her beam of light, and then a great bird of flame burst shrieking into the chamber, trailing streams of crimson as it hurled itself at Imogen, leaving a wall of living fire in its wake that continued to burn and refused to fade away.
Scorio fell back, tripped on the loose rocks on the ground as the fiery bird smashed into Imogen’s protective sphere, bounced off, and became Maeve, wheeling up and around, orienting on Imogen as she leveled a crimson Ferula of her own and unleashing a torrent of fire that enveloped the protective sphere altogether.
Superheated air washed over Scorio’s face, drying his sweat immediately, and he squinted, raised a hand to shield his eyes from the searing light.
“We have to get out of here,” Lianshi shouted into his ear as the wash of flame ended to reveal Imogen, unhurt, within her sphere. “Scorio!”
Regaining his wits, he dropped to a crouch, considered. Back, to flee, to hide? Cross the Aureate Hall to the basilica beyond? That would mean racing across a battlefield, where an errant attack would erase him—
“Come on!” He tried to ignite his Heart, but the room was completely devoid of mana. Instead, he burst into a sprint, racing along the hall’s edge, ducking his head low as Imogen raised her staff. Before she could unleash her attack, Maeve flew upward, regaining her blazing bird form, and was gone, flying through the ceiling, and leaving a permanent ribbon of fire in her wake that blocked Imogen from Scorio’s sight.
A pair of Great Souls entered the Hall through the basilica’s doors just as Scorio reached them. One was dark-skinned and bearded, a ring through his nose, his face twisted in barely controlled fear. The other was roguishly handsome, tanned and with the look of eagles to him, his black hair slicked back, ropes of golden chain falling over his chest.
“You ready?” cried the first, but before the other could answer he raised both his hands and barked out a shout.
Scorio twisted and crashed to the ground as a shaft of Imogen’s black light came curving through the air, torn away from its trajectory toward Nova to fly at the newly arrived pair.
The man with the golden chains cried out in panic. “Echo, no!”
But it was too late. He flung out his hands, summoning a floating portal into which the black spear disappeared. This knocked him right off his feet so that he crashed to the ground, the portal disappearing, leaving him twisting in pain.
“I’ll distract her!” shouted the first, and his whole form shrank as if imploding, light distorting around him as he seemed to dive into nothingness and disappear. His disappearance was immediately accompanied by a great pulling suction that tore Scorio off the ground and hurled him and the fallen Great Soul to where the man had stood a second before; they crashed to the ground together, and Scorio looked up to see Echo appear midair before Imogen, popping into existence and hurling a black spear that looked identical to Imogen’s own right at her.
Black talons curled around Scorio’s arm as the Nightmare Lady hauled him to his feet and pulled him through the doorway into the basilica.
Head spinning, Scorio ran after her, Lianshi and Leonis following a second later, down between the biers. Summoning his Heart, Scorio felt the very faintest traces of Coal mana in the air, and greedily swept it into himself and ignited his Heart.
The flood of strength and consequent assurance was invaluable. Scorio leaped up onto the closest bier and proceeded to race toward the basilica’s center, leaping from bier to bier as he went, to where the ruined half of the Archspire still jutted into the air.
“What’s the plan?” roared Leonis, powering along just below and between the biers. “Scorio?”
His mind raced, trying to come up with something. Never had he felt so ignorant, so useless. The attacks being hurled at Imogen were beyond anything he could comprehend, and still, she appeared unconcerned.
What could he do to distract her?
They reached the center of the huge chamber and Scorio leaped down to the Archspire’s broad base. It rose in tiers of gray stone to project upward, and reaching out with his senses, he felt that strange and deliriously powerful mana still sparking up from its top.
Should he try to take some into his Heart? Could he force himself to reach Emberling if he did so?
“What if we destroy more of the Archspire?” asked Lianshi, expression wild. “It’s what brought her here in the first place, correct?”
The Nightmare Lady rounded on her. “Which of us is going to do that? The Archspire is made of—”
“Consecrated melar heartstone, I know,” interrupted Lianshi hurriedly. “But perhaps it’s been weakened since it’s already ruptured.”
The double doors leading to the Aureate halls crashed inward as Imogen flew backward through them, her black sphere taking the brunt of twin streams of concentrated attacks, one crimson, the other gray. They fountained against her sphere without surcease, and a moment later Lady Maeve and Grunsch stepped through the doorway after her, Grunsch now reduced to his normal human size, both pointing their scepters at her.
Scorio and others ducked behind the closest bier.
Imogen floated serenely within her protective bubble, her expression, if anything, distracted, mildly curious.
Nova floated in behind the Blood Barons, an older man by her side that Scorio had seen on the Academy’s rooftop. His features were deeply weathered, his blond beard ragged, his mustache bushy. Immediately Scorio felt a pang of sympathy for the man, a desire to help him, to do whatever it took to ensure he got out of this conflict alive and well.
“Now, Amity,” said Nova, placing her hand on his shoulder.
The older man nodded grimly, threw his head back, and his whole body clenched, tendons standing out in his neck.
The White Queen, Lady Maeve, and Grunsch all screamed at once. The Blood Barons ceased their attacks on Imogen and the three of them crumpled, falling to the ground as their flesh withered and their skin grayed, each of them aged to the ultimate reaches of what a human body could bear.
Amity also suffered, his body and face taking on the ravaged look of a man at the last days of a terminal illness, then he raised his hands, both reduced to little more than claws, and between his palms, a tiny prick of light appeared, so bright it burned Scorio’s eyes to look upon.
Turning away, he saw Imogen frown, then the fleck of light flew at her and collided with her sphere.
It detonated like a thunder crash and hurled the Imperator across the basilica, her sphere unbroken but Imogen within flailing as she clawed at the air. She smashed into the basilica’s far wall, which collapsed upon her, a roaring fall of huge blocks that buried her sphere whole.
Scorio rose to his feet, awestruck. He turned to see that Amity had fallen to the ground, his body disintegrating into dust as he watched.