Chapter 42:Hope
Lady Auria's words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of loss. "I shall begin the procession." Her voice, steady yet threaded with grief, echoed through the cavernous hall of the cathedral. Her eyes swept across the desolate space, taking in the five remaining knights - the last of the Guardian Supremes. Once, thirty stood tall; now, only a handful remained. The absence of Nyra, Ellion, Ceryx, and the others clawed at her heart, a wound as raw as the battlefield they had left behind. She clasped her trembling hands, the gauntlets clinking against her breastplate, the sound sharp in the silence. Time was slipping away, fleeting as a breath, and they had mere minutes before the encroaching darkness consumed them all.
She absently touched a stray lock of her red hair, tucking it behind her ear, the familiar crimson strands grounding her amid the chaos. "Most will be forgotten," she declared, her voice rising, carrying the strength of conviction. "Most deserve to be forgotten. Yet in our hearts, they will live on - as heroes, the best and the worst, and a few who were a bit of both." Her gaze drifted across the cathedral, its stained-glass windows fractured, casting jagged prisms of light across the stone floor. The knights stood with heads bowed, hands pressed to their breastplates in solemn tribute. Her eyes lingered on Wolfred, the scout, his face drained of life, his stare hollow. *He's lost someone,* she thought, her chest tightening. *We all have.*
Her gaze shifted to the two children huddled slightly behind the knights, their small forms trembling yet fixed on her as if she were a beacon in the storm. The older boy clutched his younger sister, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and hope. Auria's voice softened, directed at them. "In our memory, they shall live - those we met, and those we never met." The words felt like a vow, a tether to the world they were fighting to preserve.
Silence fell, heavy and sacred, until Mennyx's voice broke through. He held a crow perched on his gauntleted hand, a tiny scroll - a missive ring - tied to its leg. The bird gave a quiet croak, its dark eyes glinting in the dim light. "The crow is ready, Lady Auria," Mennyx said, his voice steady but laced with a grief that mirrored her own. Ceryx, his brother, was among the fallen, lost to the cold grip of death. The knowledge stung Auria like a blade, but she met his eyes and gave a firm nod.
With a graceful sweep of his arm, Mennyx released the crow. Its wings beat the air, a flurry of black feathers as it soared upward, bound for Avalon - their last bastion of hope. Auria's heart clenched as she watched it disappear into the gray sky beyond the shattered windows. *Please, Knight Lord,* she prayed silently, her thoughts fervent. *Hear our petition. Bring your knights, your otherworldly power, to end this apocalypse.* The weight of her prayer pressed against her, a desperate plea to the Lord of Radiance.
She turned to Lysander, forcing her mind to the present. "Lysander, what are your observations? Any possible escape routes?" Wolfred, still dazed, was in no state to scout, and Lysander's sharp mind was their best chance.
"The South Gate," Lysander replied, his tone clipped but confident. "It's the nearest lexicon, still safe - for now. If we move quickly, we can reach it in minutes, assuming no obstacles." A sly wink flickered across his face, a spark of playfulness that felt almost defiant amidst the chaos. Auria nodded, clinging to that fleeting levity. It was their cue to move.
"Wait!" A young voice cut through the tension, sharp and trembling. Auria turned to see Lucien, the knight-errant, the youngest among them. His dagger, not a sword, marked him as different, a boy thrust into a role too heavy for his years. His face was pale, his body quaking as he spoke. "The mist... it has an origin. I saw it. It was coming from something." His words faltered, his voice barely above a whisper, and Auria's stomach twisted at the fear in his eyes. What had he seen to unravel him so completely?
She crossed the distance between them in a few strides, placing a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. The contact seemed to steady him, though his breath remained ragged. "It was a towering mass of bone and shadow," he continued, his voice shaking but resolute. "Bipedal, dwarfing this cathedral. Its eyes blazed like the sun." The words landed like a blow, sending a ripple of dread through the knights. Mennyx's face paled, his jaw tightening. Wolfred's arm quivered, his gauntlet clinking softly. Even the children felt the shift - the older boy pulled his sister closer, his small frame taut with understanding.
Auria's mind reeled, images flashing unbidden: a creature, just as Lucien described, looming in a silent night filled with the growls of the undead. She saw herself on a rooftop, paralyzed by a colossal pressure, an immense fear that rooted her in place. The creature's eyes, orbs of blinding light, bore into her. Then came the impact - a brutal force shattering her bones, pulping her organs, blood spraying from her lips as she hurtled through the air over Eden. Her hair fluttered above her, pale white, not the red she knew. *White? How?* The vision felt too real, too vivid, a memory or a premonition she couldn't place. Her breath caught, her chest heaving as she struggled to anchor herself. She touched her hair again, fingers brushing the red strands, as if to confirm they were still there, still hers.
A hand gripped hers, pulling her back. Lucien's eyes locked onto hers, wide and urgent. "The Sanctification," he said, his voice trembling but resolute. "We have to carry it out if we want to stand a chance against that monstrosity."
Her mind was a storm, teetering on the edge of collapse. *Was that vision real? A warning?* Fear clawed at her, but she pushed it down. There was no time for doubt - duty demanded clarity. Lysander's voice broke through, sharp with desperation. "We can't. Without a priest, the Sanctification won't hold. And we barely have time for it."
"I understand your fear, Lucien," Mennyx added, his tone softer, laced with concern. His gaze drifted to the cathedral's fractured ceiling. "But our goal isn't to fight that creature. It's to flee the city. Eden is beyond saving by our mortal hands. We're the only ones left to tell the tale." Wolfred nodded silently, his face still etched with loss.
Auria forced her thoughts into order, weighing their words. Lysander and Mennyx were right - escape was their priority, not battle. The creature Lucien described was beyond their power, a terror that dwarfed mortal strength. Only the Knight Lord and his forces could face such a beast. Yet Lucien's voice rose again, raw and insistent. He slammed his fist against the stone pillar beside him, the impact echoing like a crack in the fragile calm, his knuckles splitting open with a thin trickle of blood. "You don't get it," he snarled, his voice cracking under the strain. "With that monster out there, how do you expect to escape? It'll kill us all. We're playing hide and seek with something that sees everything. It's futile." His voice broke fully then, tears welling as he bit his lip hard enough to draw more blood. "There's no hope. I'm sorry, there just isn't."
His words struck like a hammer, leaving Lysander and Mennyx ashen, their faces drained of resolve. The older boy stared at them, confusion and fear warring in his eyes as he whispered something to his sister, forcing a smile. Auria's heart ached. She knelt before Lucien, placing both hands on his trembling shoulders. "It's okay, Lucien," she said, her voice hoarse but steadying. "It feels hopeless, I know. But the fact that we still breathe, still feel, still mourn our comrades and families - that means there's a silver glimmer of hope, no matter how grim it seems. That hope propels us, lets us dream of a new beginning even at the end. That radiance, Lucien, don't lose it. It's our only guide in this darkness."
Her words were as much for herself as for him, a lifeline to keep her own despair at bay. She straightened, ready to rally the others, when a thunderous crash shattered the cathedral. The roof tore apart, debris and glass soaring through the air like deadly confetti. The ground quaked, the stone floor splitting beneath their feet. Above them loomed a towering shadow, its form a grotesque amalgam of bone and writhing darkness. Its eyes burned with an otherworldly brilliance, twin suns that seared the soul. Dark mist seeped into the cathedral, curling like tendrils of death, thick and acrid, carrying the faint rot of forgotten graves. The air grew heavier, charged with an unnatural chill that seeped through armor and cloth alike, raising gooseflesh on exposed skin. Shards of stained glass rained down, tinkling like brittle laughter against the stone, while larger beams groaned and splintered, threatening to collapse the vaulted arches. The creature's silhouette blotted out the dim sky, its bipedal frame casting elongated shadows that danced like mocking specters across the walls, each one twisting into vague, humanoid forms that whispered of the undead horde beyond.
Auria's mind went blank, consumed by the terror Lucien had described. It was here.