Chapter 13 #3
The Umbral didn’t react to my crass retort, their gaze still fixated on me entirely. That was good. I needed it to be fully focused on me till I knew that the others had escaped its grasp.
“You cannot win,” the Umbral spoke then, raising a hand into the air that pulsed with magic so dark it seemed to consume the light around it. “The Cardinal’s power alone would be enough to utterly crush you.”
“Then I suggest you get crushing,” I taunted, pulse spiking.
There was an excitement rippling through my veins, much like I used to feel as I stood across from Tobias during our fencing practice.
I was going to be tested, push my body to its limits.
And with the Source inhabiting me, I no longer knew where those limits lay.
With a simple flick of their wrist, a wave of magical force crashed into my body, propelling me across the room in the blink of an eye.
But where the Umbral was expecting me to be crushed, the magic under my skin pushed back against the oppressive force, preventing it from overwhelming me completely.
As I skidded to a halt, now a hundred feet away from my foe, a laugh bubbled up in my chest.
“No point there,” I called to them. “Would you like to try again?”
The Umbral blurred with speed, the materials of Sancha’s vestments snapping at the velocity.
They closed the distance between us almost instantaneously, and I caught a fist in the palm of my hand before it was able to make contact with my nose.
The collision sent a shockwave of air through the chamber, and a sharp crack!
They did not wait for me to taunt a second time, spinning quickly to swing their other fist at my gut.
Enhanced reflexes driving me, I sidestepped the blow, my fingers wrapping around the first fist and whipping it around to hurl the Umbral through the air.
The vestments they wore flapped once more as they were airborne, but they quickly corrected themselves, landing gracefully on their feet.
“Is this typically how the whole ‘crushing’ thing goes?” I asked, feigning curiosity.
The Umbral did not react to the jibe, instead crouching and pushing their palm into the ground. Shadows spread out from the point of contact, the chamber around us quickly filling with the soft whispers of a thousand voices.
Chills spread across my body as the voices grew louder, pressing against my ears.
From the pool of shadows, figures began to emerge, twisted limbs and weapons of dripping ichor materializing as they shambled forward.
Somewhere, deep in my chest, a sorrow bloomed at the sight of these creatures. Was it coming from the Source itself?
“Look upon them, Acolyte. This is the fate of all who stand in the light. Only once I have purged it from this world will the shades rise to claim their place.”
“What are they?” I asked, my own dread growing with each passing moment I beheld them.
The Umbral straightened, the cruel facsimile of a smile spreading along their lips.
“They are the core of humanity. Wretched, fearful creatures who will consume until there is nothing left but the hollowed bones of this world. When I wring the Source’s light from you, these beasts will be there to lap it up like mother’s milk. ”
I watched the figures thrash as they freed themselves from the viscous ichor, clawing their way to their feet as they lined themselves between the Umbral and myself. Was this truly what awaited at the core of mankind? If everything were stripped away, were we nothing more than empty husks?
Again, the sorrow in my chest swelled, and over the din of whispering shadows, a voice came, clear and quiet.
“They have lost their light. But you can give it back to them.”
My body went rigid as my mind struggled to absorb the message.
In all of my years of communing with the Source, it had never spoken directly to me.
Yes, prophecies had come, and the Source had spoken through those, but this was the voice of the Source itself.
Emotion overwhelmed me at the implication.
Unfortunately, I had no time to mull over the meaning, as the shades charged forward, weapons drawn and poised to strike.
Another bolt of searing lightning shot from my hand, the air around me crackling with power.
Those at the front of the charge crumpled into piles of sullen ash, but more took their place, the mob of shadowy figures hardly deterred by my magic.
Under the adrenaline-filled pace of my pulse, a sorrow bloomed in my chest, dampening the warmth of the Source’s blessing. It was a dull ache that flared to life with each spell I cast.
I retreated, moving back just as the first few figures reached me, the whispering voices growing ever louder the closer they drew.
There were far more than I realized. The mass of bodies grew by the second.
Another bolt of lightning streaked from my hands, but only a few of the figures dropped, the horde pressing forward with no regard for their fallen comrades.
Again, the ache in my chest flared to life. It was obvious the Source wanted me to help these creatures, but how would I do so if they were unrelenting?
“The light is not a weapon.”