Alchimia Rex

"We will change the plan."

Embla heard the words but kept her focus on the city. The meeting with its newest Lord had left a sense of doubt and apprehension in his wake. His words and attitude had carried an almost friendly edge to them, yet there was something concealed in his gaze. For a moment, Embla had felt as if she'd been staring at White Claw herself.

"I agree with this," her mother spoke right after. "This human might lead a tribe of Orcs, but he is conniving."

The Malumari didn't speak, her eyes fixed on the city. The rhythmic beat of drums seemed like a celebration of some sort. "Will you cast a scrying spell? Our flyers can't see past the cover they've set up on their streets." One of several oddities, they'd figured it was the Lord's attempt to keep himself hidden from the Seraphim, but…

"No," the Warlock shook her head weakly, trembling hands gripping the staff, her eyes glaring at the city. "Our better option is boldness. A charge through the main gate."

"I agree to this," the Pinielf declared.

Embla bristled. "And kill them all in the process!? By the time the fight is done, over half the city will be going feral!"

"Better have control of a nearly ruined city than to have nothing at all!" the Warlock snarled in return.

She clenched her jaw tightly, turning to the monster. "What about you? Do you have anything to add?"

It was impossible to read Sivent, the maiden not having uncovered her face. "What matters are the humans and the bonding collars," she gave a slight nod. "It is possible to save enough of both to make the full awakening of the Grove viable. I will make preparations."

The Grove, the place where all the Elves and the Elf Queen slept, guarded by a force fierce enough to make any army quiver in terror. Even now, Embla shuddered at the thought of what would happen once they woke up and mobilized.

"I will perform a ritual of empowerment," the Warlock declared.

Embla shook her head. "Empowering mindless ferals will only worsen the situation." Not to mention that a ritual was something that would only weaken her mother further. The elderly maiden had nearly died when pushing the Archangel to ascend into a Seraphim. Now her aura was impossibly weak compared to the blinding flame of years past, barely a flickering ember that could be snuffed out by a simple breeze.

"Not the ferals, empower you," she answered. "The others will help me with the casting, and provide the energy I lack." The maiden looked up at her daughter with a scowl. "The best way to work against trickery you've yet to decipher is to face it directly."

Embla's jaw tightened, lips curling. "Is your proposal to empower me and not the monster's creation because it would risk the 'seed'?"

The Warlock didn't answer, turning away. That was answer enough.

"Just be done with it."

Turning away, Embla took her spot at the edge of their perimeter. She couldn't stand the thoughts that kept bubbling through her mind. They needed to be rid of the Pinielf, but there was nothing they could do, not when she controlled every one of the ferals. Was this what they should expect when the Green Empress was awakened?

Kneeling down next to a tree, Embla paid no mind to the gathering of Dark Elves or the slow chanting of her mother or the sensation of the air becoming thicker and heavier.

Her eyes focused on the city, and the wisps of energy that rose sporadically. Whatever the human had planned, it wasn't some kind of spell, enchantment, or ritual; there was barely any power to be seen. By contrast, the ritual behind her was sure to be visible to anyone with the same ability to perceive auras the Malumari had; it would be a beacon of energy for kilometers around.

Slowly, she calmed her breath, focused it, and emptied her mind of doubts and turmoil. Embla oriented herself towards the immediate task ahead, the weight of her ax tugging at her arm as she used her power to keep herself stable on the ground, slowly loosening it in preparation.

Breathe in, breathe out. She was a warrior, and this was her duty. The sun inched closer to the horizon, its final rays casting an orange glow on the clouds overhead. She didn't know what awaited her beyond those gates, but she would face it with all her might.

"Pour this on yourself," the Pinielf said, her voice breaking the monotony of chanting, as she offered a wooden bowl containing a blue liquid. "Wherever you go, the subjects will follow."

Embla acknowledged the instruction with a nod, smearing the substance on her armor. She caught the scent of wildflowers and moss. If she was to be the tip of the spear, then she'd ensure she aimed directly at the enemy's heart. She glanced at her mother, the Warlock, who stood in the center of a dozen kneeling Dark Elves. Her staff glowed with purple energy.

"You have one hour," the Warlock declared. "Everything depends on you."

Embla stared at the spell, her hairs standing on end. "And the Seraphim?"

"As reserve," the Pinielf declared. "She will be deployed depending on how circumstances evolve."

Pushing her annoyance aside, Embla stepped forward into the ritual. With a gloved hand, she reached out to her mother's staff and gripped it tightly. "I will fight."

"And you will win," the Warlock replied, exhaling softly as the energy crackled around them.

Power surged through her arm and into her chest like a raging inferno, its intensity magnifying with each heartbeat. It coursed through her veins, spreading to her limbs and causing her body to feel aflame with greater strength. As the energy swirled within, the world sharpened, senses heightened to their extreme. Every movement slowed to a crawl, as if time itself yielded to her will. The weight of her armor and weapon vanished altogether, leaving her feeling as light as a feather.

Under her grip, the staff tremored, the purple energy pulsating and crackling in response to the immense power flowing between them. The air around her hummed with energy, and the ground beneath her feet seemed to tremble in anticipation of the force she now commanded. Embla's eyes glowed with determination, and her armor now shimmered with an ethereal aura, as if it too had been imbued with the very essence of the spell.

The staff cracked in her grip, unable to contain the sheer magnitude of power that now coursed through Embla's body. She released it, watching as the fractured remnants fell to the ground, their purpose fulfilled.

An hour would be plenty.

With the final wisps of energy trapped inside her body and rearing to escape, Embla turned to the walled city.

"Go."

She began with a slow walk, weaving past the treeline as she hefted her ax against her shoulder. With a heave, she leapt, the ground cracking under her boot when she landed, now breaking into a full run. Behind her, the ferals stirred, unleashing snarls and barks and howls. With Embla at the helm, they followed in a cacophony of virulent aggression.

Faster, she heard the beat of the drums had changed from the steady beat of a heart into something slower. Commands were screamed, bells were rung, and atop the wall, a dozen fire-casters launched a rain of red. Embla pooled power into her free hand and, with a gesture, released it. The fire vanished as if it had never been there to begin with. A second wave was launched, and she nullified that too. The ground hammered against her as she pushed her body harder.

Next were not attacks of fire, but of wood. Her eyes caught the glimmer of orcwood spears as the maidens atop the walls took aim. With a snarl, she began to cast a spell of protection. The forms flowed through her faster than she could keep up, and a barrier shimmered into existence, larger than she'd intended it to be.

Closer, closer, the ferals were catching up. All around Embla, bodies began hitting the ground, pierced by spears that had been thrown with enough force to embed themselves a meter deep. Her own barrier cracked under the blows. Many ferals died there and then, but many others pushed forward, ignoring their own bleeding injuries as the vines grew and spread across their bodies.

Focusing on the gate, Embla began a second spell, wrapping her weapon in a protective cocoon of power. The closer she got to the gate, the more fiercely the spears rained down upon her, the cracked defensive spell gone. The Malumari used her ax to smack away the spears as they came.

Breaking her connection with the ground, the inertia of her massive weapon allowed her to fling herself whichever way was most convenient. In this way, her progress towards the gate did not slow, only turning more into an erratic path ahead, with more and more spears wasted trying to attack the places she'd been in only a second prior.

She reached her goal, and the defenders poured what she'd thought to be boiling oil from atop the gate. Embla moved out of the way, only turning to look at the liquid when she'd heard the angry hissing against the ground.

There was a split moment of hesitation as the plume of smoke choked her lungs and burned. The few ferals nearest to her had been caught in the splatter, and the liquid seemed to keep burning even as they clawed at the gate in blind, unrelenting fury.

Staying here would be a mistake. The maiden shifted the whole of her focus towards her weapon, planting her legs firmly so she could pull her full strength to bear. With a deafening scream, she brought the ax down onto the wood, cleaving one of the crossbars behind it. The second strike removed another, and the gate buckled.

The third strike tore it down, and the way forward opened just in time for her to avoid the second downpour of the mysterious liquid. The ferals behind her weren't so lucky, toppling over within seconds, clawing at their own faces in a gruesome sight.

Embla let out a battle cry, charging forward, fully prepared to cleave through everything that stood in her way. Instead, she found nothing but an empty, blackened street. A powerful gust of wind blew through now that the gate had been opened, carrying with it an overpowering pungent vinegar-like smell mixed with smoke that made Embla's eyes water.

The warrior slowed, ax at the ready, eyes darting every which way in search of enemy combatants. There were no screams, no torches, no light. If not for the magic coursing through her body, she would be completely blind. The streets had been walled off, creating a singular funnel forward. The beat of the drums had shifted to a deafeningly loud series of beats that rattled the very ground under her feet.

To her enhanced senses, it was torture, pounding through her helmet and against her skull from every direction. Part of her could sense some of the enemies atop the walls, further ahead, and all around. Not one of them was within immediate reach, nor were they attacking in any way. There wasn't any energy to be found in the streets, and whatever this trap was, it made her hackles rise and shivers course down her spine.

Barely able to think, she threw herself at the nearest wall, determined to prevent the stream of ferals from continuing down this path and to open a new one. Her armored bulk tore through the stone, with her weapon aiding in the task.

The street was narrow and cramped, clearly filled with rubble and debris to obstruct movement. Nonetheless, she clambered on top, pushing ahead to clear a path for their improvised, unthinking forces to follow.

The Malumari glanced over her shoulder and froze, finding only a handful of feral Doggirls in her wake, the maidens blindly stumbling forward through the wreckage, hissing burns on their claws, shoulders, and faces. But there were no more; every other feral was still rushing forward, past the hole Embla had made, charging in a blind rage.

The drums intensified, changing their rhythm in some imperceptible way that turned it into a cacophony. Vaguely, Embla discerned the sound of a series of screams, each one repeating the same ominous phrase: "Fire in the hole!"

Every hair on her body stood on end, and alarm bells rang in her mind. The maiden swiftly cast a spell of protection to envelop herself. There was a flash of blinding light, accompanied by a force that hammered against the spell from every direction. Embla found herself hurled into one of the buildings, teary eyes blinking away the lingering lights as she tried to take in her surroundings. She was inside one of the houses.

A second set of explosions shook the ground, and suddenly there was nothing to stand on.

She fell, and the building came crashing down on top.