Alchimia Rex

“The target is moving. They are regrouping.”

The words came not through spoken language. It was a silent language, one built out of gestures and subtle shifts in elemental energy. The method of communication had been created seven hundred years ago, polished and perfected during the growth and rule of the Green Empire.

Every one of them had been exemplary in their service, over a hundred years as the elite of the elites. As Guardians, their task had been to ensure that the Empress and all the Queens loyal to her remained safe. The Guardians had once been powerful enough that, were they to gather into a singular unit, they could have conquered a nation. Now they were barely a whisper of what they'd once been.

Not even a sliver of their original numbers remained; even their gear was now something that foot-soldiers would have scoffed at. It had been a slow fall through degradation, hundreds of years of the mightiest and most advanced enchantments wearing down to dust.

Hundred of years watching their Empress slumber, waiting for the day she would rise, silently catching glimpses of their glory erased bit by bit.

C8 had been among the few remaining Guardians who had served at the side of the Empress from the very start. She had been made specifically to keep her safe, and it had been a duty she had carried out since her very first steps.

Seven hundred years she had waited for the moment her charge would be awakened.

The others looked at her, none speaking a word, but everyone fully aware that the question now lingered over their heads. Was this it? Would this be when the Empress finally would open her eyes? It was not an insignificant question either, because there was a choice that needed to be made.

Under the suggestions of the researcher, they had kept one of their numbers observing the situation within the ruins of the winter palace. The group, made up mostly of Dark Elves, had holed up and triggered the safety mechanisms, while the armored slaves showed up to attempt to break inside.

It was a simple enough circumstance. The armored slaves had enough firepower to eventually break through and slaughter the Dark Elves.

Then the human came with a Malumari in tow, one who had been a leader to the Dark Elves. At first, they had thought he would either gain control over the slaves or attack them, but instead he appeared to strike a deal of some sort.

With the Malumari a clear, willing prisoner, it could mean that the Dark Elves might join the human’s side.

Normally, the Guardians wouldn’t have cared how this unfolded; it was not their mission. But they now needed that human to use him as a bargaining chip against the Succubus, to move everything a step closer to the awakening of the Empress.

If the gathered forces joined up rather than fought, it would prove detrimental.

At C8’s command, they stepped in, triggering one of the ploys the researcher had set up before departing for the sacred grove. From there, it became a game of whittling them down, seeking an opportunity for an easy extraction of their target.

It would have been easy if the Sabertooth slave hadn’t held the target like a strangler fig.

The longer things went, the clearer it became that they would not be able to fulfill their objective easily. The Sabertooth would eventually find a gap and get the human outside their hunting range. C8 understood that they wouldn’t be able to deal with the slave safely; the engagement report from D7 had placed the Sabertooth as a reasonable threat, being particularly skilled in sensing danger.

A feralborn through and through. Obsessive, impulsive, too dangerous to get close to, and too close to the target to eradicate without risking the life of the human.

It left them with two options.

Either they continued whittling down the opponents until they could be engaged directly, or they would have to engage the feralborn up close.

C8 knew how capable each and every one of them was. Hundreds of years of experience. The seven hundred years had not been spent idly; not one of them had slacked in their training.

She knew there was no way to engage the feral without someone dying.

Would their sacrifice be worth it? Would the hundreds of years, erased, be worth it?

Did C8 trust that the researcher was on the right track to awaken the Empress?

Closing her eyes, she laid down her bow on the bark road, carefully summoning moss to hide it so that another might pick it up if she didn’t return. She raised her hand to give the signal; nothing else needed to be said.

They prepared the spells as their companions prepared their shots.

The first spell was a two-part teleportation jump, with a keyed energy input so that it could be fed power through outside means. The weaving was complex, meant to play as a spell within a ritual that would collapse into the form of the second teleportation.

At its core, it was an in-and-out.

C8 hated the thing.

With her mask in place, she gazed at the target. C8's aura perception pierced through the tree, the branches, and even a little into the soil underneath. The world was a sea of ever-shifting colors. Their target was a pureblooded human, though, devoid of such energies, cut off from what empowered every maiden. It was easier to spot him through the void he occupied when surrounded by so many maidens.

A signal was given out; the countdown began.

Five.

She drew her blade and chose her exact infil location.

Four.

She focused on the target. The other Guardians began to rain down their attacks, uncaring of how many arrows they had left as they poured every single shot with the intent to punch through and kill everything except the human.

Three.

She pulled on the first spell, collapsing it. The world around her pulled in a field of grays, emerging surrounded by poorly-disciplined Orcs, right next to the target. The other Guardians were there with her, each of them aware of their task. Each of them jumped, pooling their power in preparation for the second phase.

Two.

C8, J3, and F3 were the designated carriers. F3 was closer to the Vampire, and C8 was faster. She could feel the energy from the others pouring into her now that it was clear she would make it to the target first. Her hand reached out, securing her grip as the knife rose to meet his throat.

One.

Four maidens twitched and reacted faster than the rest, clearly, they were the only ones bonded to the human. They twitched as the blade touched flesh; C8 stopped just shy of drawing blood. L9 had pinned the Sabertooth's arm, joined by three others.

The Sabertooth flared out with directed power straight at C8. Was it an instinctual attempt to disrupt the spell? But it was too late.

Zero.

A blast of energy coursed through the ritual, collapsing it. C8 could feel the not-yet-dispersed energy of the first teleportation lashing out, tearing at her insides right as she jumped alongside the target.

The instant they emerged on the other side, she twisted the human face down against the bark, knee on his back to keep him pinned. She ignored the searing pain within her, reaching for her bow, nocking an arrow, and shooting down to join the barrage.

After she'd made the jump, the others had empowered J3; her spell was the next to finish, taking half a second longer than C8's own return. She joined in the barrage.

Next came F3, her armor crushed in several spots, an arm hanging limply at her side. Her inability to shoot meant she was now on prisoner-transport duty and approached C8's location.

The barrage continued, C8 gritting her teeth as she could see the fight unfold. No more jumps occurred; the Sabertooth had figured out how to shatter the rituals. The nine remaining Guardians had switched to casting normal teleportation spells, trying to buy time.

If the barrage relented even an instant, the Orcs surrounding their brethren would be able to lower their shields, turn around, and crush the remaining Guardians. The only Orc not holding a shield was also troublesome but far more encumbered by the tight quarters.

The swirling elemental energy was becoming thick with dark power; the Sabertooth lashing out with brutality was forced to hold back to avoid disrupting the canopy of shields. The Guardians could not keep up with her speed and agility but could cover for one another. Whenever one was focused on by the Sabertooth, the rest would attack at openings to prevent her from committing.

Even then, only four others managed to escape, each more injured than the last.

The five remaining Guardians were not given the time to finish their spells. They'd be able to hold out, fight to the last minute, but escape was no longer possible for them.

Swallowing blood, C8 gave the silent command.

Neither she nor F3 were in condition to use the tree waylines; their energy and insides were torn from the intense strain of a double teleportation. They were forced to use silk wire and hooks to swing their way forward, while eight other Guardians accompanied them, ensuring a secure perimeter and overwatch.

The rest of their forces would begin pulling away, disengaging in groups of five. They already expected that Sabertooth would give chase, so they would spread out to guarantee a moving kill-corridor leading up to the prisoner. If the feralborn slave chased, they would ensure her death would be as brutal as that of their sisters.

C8’s gaze fell on the human, lips curling.

They'd paid four thousand years of experience for acquiring a human who wasn’t even halfway to a century.

If the researcher could not awaken the Empress, then C8 herself would make sure to add to the tally. She did not need to ask the others to know that it was a shared sentiment.

Five hours later, F3 hit her limit, vomiting blood as she collapsed atop a branch. The maiden put down the bound human and hastily began weaving a spell to stabilize herself. Five of their escorts spread out to form a perimeter; the other three and C8 converged to start emergency healing on the two heavily injured maidens.

“What’s your name?”

The human spoke, breaking the silence; his gaze firmly placed on C8.

She ignored the question, focused on the minor healing spell woven alongside that of another, trying to get her guts in proper order.

“I take it I’m alive because you need to use me to coerce Kiara into something… the Succubus.” His gaze wandered off to the forest floor below.

C8’s eyes narrowed underneath the mask; she glanced at the edge of the branch they were currently on and the drop. “You won’t make it in time to the bottom. The same goes if you choose to bite your tongue.”

The human scoffed. “If there’s anyone who looks suicidal here, it's you lot.” His gaze lingered on C8 before turning away. “How many would you leave to die if it means getting me to that crazy Pinielf?”

“Every one of us would lay their life down if it means the Empress will walk this world again,” F3 hissed, clutching her arm as steam rose from the open wound.

“She’s important to you, huh.”

They were simple words, directed not at F3 but at C8, eyes looking upon the blank bark of her mask as if he could peer directly through it. It happened quickly; the emotional stir within her abruptly lashed out like a vine hastily reaching for a branch. The bond latched into place, and C8 twitched as she could suddenly sense he was looking upon the depths of her emotions.

“Bonded.”

C8’s proclamation spurred the others into action, F3 being the first to place her hand against the human’s face, unleashing a wave of power that instantly knocked him out. “That was fast,” F3 muttered as the human slumped against the bark.

C8 didn’t answer, slowly casting the bond-break spell. Slowly it eroded away; C8 herself not fighting its effects while the human was now entirely unable to stop their link from crumbling apart.

After half an hour, the feral curse began to gnaw at the edges of her consciousness once more. “Perhaps the researcher is not as insane as we thought her to be,” she finally proclaimed, staring at their human prisoner.

“If there’s one thing I’d prefer, it's to never see a collar again,” F3 spat on the moss. “Can't wait until we can stop kidnapping and sharing some lowborn every handful of decades.”

“For the good old days,” C8 spoke, her voice carrying no humor, only determination.