Chapter 36
Calamity
Calamity’s father was absolutely going to be the death of her.
She’d wasted no time after he appeared unleashing a spell on him – there would be no monologuing or grandstanding if she had anything to say about it. Trulnuroth had taken too much already.
Now, several minutes into the fight, bolts of fire sank into Trulnuroth’s scales; two had already come loose near his waist after a particularly critical hit from Morgana, leaving a gaping black wound in its place.
Calamity’s fire wasn’t doing as much as it normally would; her father was naturally resistant to her kind of magic, of course.
But it was all she had, and she’d pump him full of spark and flame until she made him crumble to ash or died trying.
Luckily, the shadows didn’t seem to be separate entities like she’d initially thought.
They simply fed Trulnuroth as the party chipped away at him, feeding him with dark, almost volcanic energy.
It did, unfortunately, make him harder to wound, but at least they only had one person to contend with in the fight.
Five against one wouldn’t have been the worst odds, if the one hadn’t been the Prince of Pandemonium.
His claws and tail were deadly enough, creating chinks in Morgana’s and Liam’s armour as they swarmed him, but he was also using the staff of The Twelve, sending piercing rays of dark magic towards Eden and Yorick, who had come running when someone at the guild house had sounded the alarm.
Eden fired off arrow after arrow, each one finding its mark, but Yorick, whose magic might have otherwise turned the tide, was focused on teleporting Eden around the theatre to avoid Trulnuroth’s attacks and inspiring the rest of the party with his lute.
The shadows dissipated slightly with every hit they landed, and Calamity knew they wouldn’t be able to defeat him until they were all gone.
She only hoped she and her friends could outlast her father and his spectral siphons.
And then there was Nashala. Calamity had no pity for her; she’d told her she’d have to make a choice. But instead, the monk stood there paralysed, looking up at Trulnuroth, who in turn ignored her entirely.
“You coward!” Calamity cried between spells, then ducked behind Nashala again. If she wouldn’t help, she would be used as cover. “You said you wanted to fight for good, but when the time comes, you just stand there! Fight, Nashala! We all know you can.”
As Trulnuroth turned to deal with Liam and Morgana, Calamity stepped directly in front of Nashala.
Her ire drained slightly when she saw the fear plain on her speckled face.
Not entirely, though; the adrenaline still flowed through her, as strong as her magic.
As strong as her hate for her father. As strong as her love for the people currently fighting her battles.
“Fuck you,” she said quietly, turning back to the combat. “You’re dead to me.”
Then she unleashed an almighty scream as she saw Trulnuroth’s claws cut clean through Morgana.
Eden dropped shortly after, one of Trulnuroth’s shots with the staff landing just right, and Yorick cried out, calling forth a bolt of psychic power that pierced Trulnuroth’s forehead. Trulnuroth doubled over in pain, then growled so loudly that it rumbled the whole theatre.
Calamity’s heart burned, and not just with fiery magic.
She looked at Morgana’s curls askew on the floor where she lay, soaking with the still-wet blood where she’d felled Saudane.
She saw Eden splayed unceremoniously in an aisle, Yorick crouched over her in grief, pumping healing magic into her.
But then Trulnuroth struck him, too, with a dark ray, pushing him back away from Eden.
“Stop!” Calamity yelled, stepping in front of Trulnuroth, her hands raised so he could see no magic currently flowed through them. “Please, Dad, stop!”
She saw Liam’s bloodied, resolute face set in a grimace as he paused mid-swing. She couldn’t let him fall, too. If it was just her, she didn’t stand a chance. She was nothing without the rest of the party.
“Are you ready to take your place at my side, daughter?” Trulnuroth asked, his booming voice vibrating through her so hard her teeth and horns hurt.
She looked again at Liam, who shook his head, even as his tears fell. She knew what he was saying – it wasn’t worth saving him if she was just to bring about Trulnuroth’s plan.
“No,” she croaked. “But I’ll go with you. I’ll join you in exile. Just please, leave. And let my friends heal in peace.”
Calamity held Trulnuroth’s gaze as he seemed to consider this. But she saw his expression set into amusement, and realisation sank through her. In order to convince him to stand down, she’d have to offer him something he actually wanted. And he didn’t want her.
“Let me be clear, child,” he boomed. “Nothing matters more to me than fulfilling my destiny. Certainly not you.”
Calamity didn’t have time to let this hurt her; she had her answer, and they needed to do their best. She and Liam would go down in the name of saving their world; saving each other.
She funnelled all of her desperation into a spell, ready to unleash it upon him; upon everything around her if she had to.
But then Trulnuroth stumbled forward, canting just enough for Calamity to see Nashala standing behind him, her staff soaked in his obsidian blood.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered to Calamity, then raised her staff again.
Before Trulnuroth could right himself, she landed a kick to his face, then a punch to the area where his scales had fallen away.
He screeched in agony, then turned to strike back, but Nashala dodged one claw and then the other, his tail narrowly missing her face.
Calamity wreathed him in flames that caught on his scales and skin, his horns sticking up out of the fire like logs.
Liam flanked Trulnuroth on his other side, slashing at his heel, weakening his stance, but took a tail to the back in return.
The shadows fully dissipated as Trulnuroth tried to heal himself, but Calamity could tell he was weakening.
It was a war of attrition, especially as the party’s magic depleted, but Calamity grew sure they were winning.
They just needed to hold on; stay nimble.
Get to their friends before it was too late to help them.
But Trulnuroth blocked them every time they tried to aid the fallen.
They’d have to finish with him before they could help Morgana, Eden, and Yorick.
Suddenly, Nashala’s staff swept Trulnuroth’s legs out from under him.
He managed to catch himself before falling completely prone, but the staff of The Twelve clattered away and over the edge of the stage.
Calamity met his gaze yet again, darkness swirling in his white eyes as he bared his teeth.
This was the Prince of Pandemonium, on his knees, near defeat.
“Look at you now, Dad,” she mocked. “What a reign of chaos this has been.”
“You ungrateful child,” he sneered. “You could have had everything.”
“I have everything I could possibly want,” she said, then tugged on the piece of his horn she wore around her neck until the leather snapped. She threw it down in front of him. She couldn’t do much without it, but she’d find a new way to channel her power. His magic needed to die with him.
But Trulnuroth wasn’t done. He roared, louder and angrier than any sound he’d made before; so loud that the windowpanes rattled in their frames. Black beams shot out from him towards his daughter, absorbing all light as they came.
Calamity closed her eyes, braced herself, and lifted her hands to magically shield herself, but before she could finish uttering the spell, she felt a sharp, strong force to her stomach that sent her tumbling backwards.
She opened her eyes as she fell backwards off the stage, out of the range of Trulnuroth’s attack, making eye contact with Nashala as she tumbled away.
The warrior – because that’s what she was, a warrior, even if it had taken her a while to find something to fight for – stood firmly in her place as the force of Trulnuroth’s fury hit her from behind.
The darkness enveloped Nashala, and Calamity could have sworn she saw her smile before she was consumed.
When the beams dissipated, Calamity stood in front of the stage and saw two things: Liam with his sword lodged between Trulnuroth’s horns, and nothing but the dust of Pandemonium where Nashala had been.
Calamity wailed.