THIRD BOOK OF THE CHRONICLES OF FANTASILIA SERIES
𝘈 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘈 𝘥𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘺𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘺. 𝘈 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳. 𝘈 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴.
Two sides of the same coin are brought to the light...
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Elred growled as she stabbed soldiers after the other. There's an unholy amount and this was just in Abshire. Sheets of reflecting glass hung in the air around Elred, giving her a full view of all the directions where attacks might come from.
She ducked then rolled as two swords swept past the place where her head had once been. She stabbed at the legs while she stood up. Faces and surroundings blurred in her mind as she parried, stabbed, and slashed. Her feet skidded against broken shards.
Elred was being herded. Somewhere.
Her arm felt heavy as she swept it in a wide arc, pointed shards of glass spearing out of her palms and embedding themselves into the immediate line of her attackers. Not enough. A hand slapped against the wrist holding her sword and she felt herself getting thrown to the ground.
Not enough.
Elred groaned as she pushed herself up and summoned a new sword again. Her vision blurred as more soldiers pressed in on her.
Not enough.
Elred stumbled back as they lunged. At one point, her back slammed against a mansion wall. They've driven her somewhere, indeed. She gritted her teeth as she swung herself inside the mansion and built the wall back up with her shards.
There was a way to get these soldiers off the plateau but it's too powerful that the people in Rabante might not survive. Hexen's sheets, Elred wasn't entirely certain she'd emerge alive from it, too.
Elred raked her gaze at the soldiers trying to hack at the thick wall of glass she placed between them. The Sovereign's insignia glinted in their chests. Familiar faces and not blurred in Elred's memory. Her mind ran through the number that made it here and the ones that were still cresting the plateau. She's going to die whatever choice she makes. Might as well drag these heathen with her.
The first sword tip broke through the glass. Elred gritted her teeth. It's now or never.
She dropped to her knees and spread her hands on the mansion's floor. With her eyes closed, she connected to the magic beneath the plateau itself. She prayed to every god and goddess to give her the strength to survive. Her heart pounded in her ears. She chuckled bitterly. For someone who thought she was ready to die, this wasn't a great start.
Magic warmer than her own sped through her veins like a whip, making her gasp. This presence...it's too much. Elred bit down against the pain as the scalding magic gripped her every nerve and flayed her muscles. The mountain shook in an almost audible roar. Her palms began to smoke from being pressed against the glass floor of the Arness mansion. Cold wind blew from the windows.
The weapons hacking at the glass wall paused, no doubt sensing the great power that bled off the mountain in thick, pulsing waves. Elred clenched her jaw as she knelt in the presence of a god trapped under layers of dirt as it awoke. A forgotten tale. It's the source of life in the Glass Mountain.
