Accursed Wars of Immortalis

Chapter 4: Fate of the Cursed

Upon reaching the shore, the captives were thrust into the lava and rooted into place by the demons' magic. A searing pain lance across Flann's entire body – a burning sensation beyond mortal senses, yet she was no longer a mere mortal. She stifled a scream of pain. She could feel the constant draining of her vital energy, her mana, into the ground. Her mind crumbled into a half-functional state as her body tried to manage the pain. 

She turned to the others for help, frantically turning left and right in search of her friend or the high priest. Caron, Walgen and the others, however, were also in deep pain. As she gasped from the pain, her mouth became dry and bitter with the noxious air, as her breath was sucked away by the infernal, unforgiving atmosphere hanging above the lava.

Much time passed before she became able to think normally, before the pain became somewhat bearable, but the exact amount will never be known, as time in the Realm of Chaos has no point of reference, being founded solely on the cyclical suffering of the cursed beings – the syphoning and natural replenishment of mana.

"Flann... how do you feel," said a quivering voice beside her. "Flann? Please say something," the voice implored.

"Yes," responded Flann. 

It was all she could say. Her mind finally realized that it was Walgen. She turned to him, rooted close to her right.

"Flann... I'm sorry. We were too weak to face them, both in Mirthenhelm and here. The Legion has failed those of Mirthenhelm. Maiden forgive us."

She spent some time examining the dreaded Sea of Flames, as well as the occasional, yet spectacular streams of fire expelled from the lava's depths. She also observed the other cursed beings. Most were shoulder deep like she, others had no more than their head, or their face, above the surface. Once she had allowed her mind to fathom her situation, she observed herself. Her clothing and armour had been consumed by the lava. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that the surface of her skin was fissured rock; inside each crack glowed an inner fire, a molten core. Her insides stirred loosely. Periodically, she exhaled a cloud of ash.

She looked to her left, at Walgen, who bore his usual expression of concern and affection.

"It is bearable," she said.

"Considering what we have learned, I suppose we have become a part of this place, like any of its native inhabitants."

"What will become of us?" she asked.

Another voice answered. It was High Priest Caron, who was not far in front of her..

He said gravely: "We are doomed to suffer here, feeding this realm and its inhabitants with our own mana, until we face utter destruction... or deliverance." 

And suffer they did.

Among those around her, Flann found a few more of her acquaintances. She did not, however, find her father or the rest of her family, who were most likely trapped wherever she first awoke. She had lost hope, as did all but the most fervent believers. When Walgen was not talking to Flann, he was praying to the Bleeding Maiden. The High Priest gave sermons that he knew by heart, and new ones which he created to give hope to the victims of the Maledicti. He claimed that, one day, heroes of light would descend into the depths of this hell to free them. Years passed without their knowing and those heroes had yet to come.