Pantheon Online

Chapter 306 Eye Of The Storm (Part 1)

306 Eye Of The Storm (Part 1)

The winds howled through the ruins of the fort against the dim light of the setting sun. The heavens themselves appeared angry at the situation unfolding in Skardia's North. Ania stood, spear and shattered shield in hand, her back against the cold stone walls of what could become her tomb.

Her breath came in laboured bursts, the fog of exhaustion mingling with the blood dripping down her brow, obscuring her sight. Before she could take Allyce's advice, the elves had appeared like ghosts, cutting off every avenue of escape. Their arrows rained down on her and her people as if they were wounded prey, ripe for the picking. From somewhere nearby, she could hear the elven commander barking orders with her voice as smooth as silk. 'Why? Why did it come to this?' Her legs trembled, threatening to give out beneath her.

Her grip tightened on the spear, though her fingers felt numb from both the cold and her waning strength. 'I need to move.' The once-proud shield in her other hand hung in pieces, so Ania dropped it at her feet. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, smearing the blood with the grime of battle. Ania leaned on her spear as she took a step forward, even as the ache in her bones begged her not to.

'I won't fall here. I won't let this be my end,' Ania thought, her mind racing. 'Not like this.'

While Ania struggled to move through the ruins, the sounds of battle could be heard from all around. The elves were relentless in their assault, and Ania felt their formation tightening like a noose. She could almost hear the elves' smug superiority echoing in the sound of clashing weapons.

'I have to find the others before I pass out.' Ania groaned as she thought about how her forces had dwindled to a mere handful of fighters. All of them huddled somewhere within the fractured remains of the fort. She had seen the light leave too many eyes today.

But there was no time to mourn, no time to think. Only to fight.

The skies above gradually darkened, the last remnants of daylight slipping away. Even then, she could still see dark storm clouds being carried in on the winds. Ania knew that soon, even the fort's crumbling stones would provide no cover. The elves would press the advantage once darkness fell, their superior night vision making them the unquestioned hunters in the dying light.

Ania swallowed hard, as her eyes scanned the skies for any sign of Allyce. If she could find her, at least she'd know which direction she should go. Everything had become too chaotic when the elves rushed the fort. Everyone had been forced to split up as the tide of enemies drove a wedge between their different groups.

She wiped away a trickle of blood angrily. She couldn't afford to be distracted at this critical moment.

Then she heard it. A soft, almost unnoticeable tremor in the earth beneath her feet. The kind of sound that could easily be mistaken for a hallucination brought on by the strain of battle. But Ania knew better. Her instincts, honed by the recent warfare, screamed at her to listen. Something was stirring beneath the surface.

'Not now,' she thought bitterly. 'Not more problems. Not when we're already out of options.'

Footsteps as light as whispers closed in on her position. It was only a matter of time until the enemy found her. The distant clatter of armour and the soft hum of elven magic filled the air. Even then, she still pressed on. Hoping, praying to find safety. The elven commander's voice, commanding yet unnervingly calm, drifted closer. Ania had to act. Now.

'Bjorn would know what to do,' Ania thought with a flash of bitterness. Her mind raced through thoughts on what she could do if found, but they all crumbled under her scrutiny. She was tired. So tired. 'A last stand, then?'

She raised her spear, ready to make the final sacrifice, when suddenly the ground beneath her feet shifted again. This time more violently. The stone cracked, and small fissures snaked across the floor with the sound of the earth splitting open. Ania staggered as she tried to keep her balance, but the quakes were too strong.

Suddenly, the clouds overhead rumbled as heavy rainfall smashed down upon the ruined fort. Within a few seconds, everyone on the battlefield was drenched.

From the cracks in the earth a dense, rolling fog emerged. It was thick, blinding, and far colder than anything natural. It clung to the surroundings like a living thing, creeping across the battlefield with unnatural speed. The elven advance faltered under this new development. Confusion rippled through their ranks, as their perfect vision suddenly failed them.

Allyce's wings twitched in agitation. "We don't even know if he'll come. The Gods have their own problems. And even if he does..."

"We don't have a choice," Bjorn cut her off. "He's our only chance. The elves are too strong. If Exile is watching, if he cares about Ania... this is the moment to call for him."

Allyce opened her mouth to argue but stopped. She glanced at Ania, her expression hardening. She had heard a lot about the Skardian princess. If anyone deserved a miracle, it was her.

"Fine," Allyce said, stepping back. "Call for him. But if this doesn't work, we're on our own."

Bjorn stood, his bulky frame lit up by the flashes of lightning outside. He raised his hands toward the sky before calling out. His voice boomed through the tower, mingling with the thunder.

"Exile! Hear us now!" His voice was raw, filled with desperation. "You who watch over us. Show yourself! We are your people, your warriors! We call on you for aid! Save us, or Skardia will fall!"

The storm seemed to grow still for a moment as if the world held its breath in anticipation. Then, from outside, a faint whisper echoed through the air. It was barely noticeable at first. But like the thunder, it grew louder, deeper, until it boomed around the trio.

Bjorn stepped back, his eyes wide as a suffocating presence weighed down on them. Allyce folded her wings around her shoulders as she took a knee.

Exile had heard them.

Suddenly, with the next flash of lightning, a figure cloaked in black robes and holding a staff appeared between them. His golden eyes peered at them from beneath his hood before halting on Ania's figure.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Exile raised his hand. The air grew heavy, charged with energy, and the very bones of the tower seemed to hum in response. A faint glow appeared over Ania's form, and her breathing steadied. But just as quickly as it appeared, the glow began to fade.

"No!" Allyce cried, rushing forward. "Don't leave her like this! She's not healed yet!"

Exile paused, as he fixed Allyce with his gaze. His voice was a whisper but threatened to spill over with rage.

"She will live... for now," Exile grimaced. "If I fully healed her, she'd just rush straight back into the battle. Allyce, Bjorn. You must take Ania and escape from this place. Fall back until you meet up with the reinforcements."

"What about Skalr?" Bjorn asked as he bent down to pick up Ania.

"Don't worry about him. He's more than capable of getting out of here on his own."

Exile turned his gaze toward the west. His eyes seemingly pierced everything between himself and his hero. Unnoticed by the others, a smirk played at the corner of his lips.