The moment of reverence shattered as quickly as it had begun.
The silence of the bowing horde was broken by a sound that made Mith's blood run cold. It started as a low, wet gurgle from the throat of the massive creature in front of him, then spread like a contagion through the ranks.
Heh. Heh. Heh.
It wasn't the chattering of insects. It was human laughter—thousands of voices, distinct and distorted, overlapping in a cacophony of mockery. Men, women, children—the voices of the converted, all laughing in unison.
"It's a trap," Jis breathed, his eyes widening.
Before Mith could command the stone to flare again, the creatures moved. They didn't lunge with claws this time; they surged forward like a rising tide of tar.
"Jis, move!" Mith screamed, raising his hand.
Jis tried to scramble backward, to bring his sword up for a Sapphire Bastion, but his body refused to obey. The black mud beneath him had risen up, wrapping around his boots, his greaves, his gauntlets. It wasn't just mud; it was living shadow.
"I... I can't!" Jis grunted, straining against the invisible weight. The blue light of his sword flickered and died as the black sludge seeped into the runes, choking the magic. "Mith! I'm paralyzed!"
The massive creature that had led the charge stepped forward, its reversed limbs clicking softly. It didn't strike Jis. It simply placed a massive, clawed hand over Jis's face, muffling his scream, and pressed him into the dirt.
"No!" Mith roared. He aimed the Slate, desperate to unleash the violet light again.
But a whip-thin tentacle of darkness shot out from the swarm to his left, wrapping around his wrist. Then another around his ankle. Then his throat.
Mith was jerked off his feet, slamming hard onto the cobblestones. The Slate flew from his hand, skittering across the stone. It glowed defiantly in the dirt, but without Mith's touch to channel it, the beam began to fade.
Mith struggled, summoning the fire in his gut. "Burn!" he choked out.
His skin ignited, turning white-hot, but the creatures didn't pull away. They swarmed over him, layer upon layer, their bodies suffocating his flames. They didn't care about the pain. They were driven by a single, hive-mind purpose.
Mith felt his arms being wrenched behind his back, his legs bound by grips of iron. He was hauled upright, gasping for air, forced to look at Jis.
Jis was kneeling in the mud, held down by four of the creatures. His helmet had been knocked off, and his eyes were wide with a terror Mith had never seen in him before.
The laughter grew louder, echoing off the canyon walls, a deafening roar of sadistic delight.
The large creature—the leader—leaned in close to Mith's face. Its four red eyes narrowed, and its mandibles clicked open. But the voice that came out wasn't a monster's growl. It was a clear, human whisper, spoken with the stolen vocal cords of its former self.
"The King..." it hissed, a string of drool landing on Mith's cheek. "The King has been waiting for his old friends."
Mith watched helplessly as the swarm began to drag them. They weren't being eaten. They were being taken.
Taken into the dark. Taken to Tuk.
Jis fading into darkness as he is being choked . He gets angry and tries to attack but he fails . Mith looks confused but in position ready to attack surrounded and choked and carried by dark . Their powers failed. They couldn't use . Mith also starts fading into dark. " they can read our minds . They know about Tuk ." He said.
End