After a terrorist attack by a disciple of the King of Terror happened last afternoon, the King of Keceo himself made an appearance. With little effort, the King healed the injured onsite and confronted the new Chosen One.
He reiterated to the people present that the new Chosen One only had five years to defeat the King of Terror, quelling the outrage those felt at the Chosen One's lack of interference in the attack, saving a majority of the casualties by himself.
This writer notes that the Elves, or the remaining Chosen Ones, have not killed the King of Terror in ninety years. Although the attack seemed to be targeted towards our new Chosen One, I can't help but feel sympathy for the monumental task before them.
From the latest issue of the Keceo Chronicles, written by Kindly Barons
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Whisperer Kindread cast spell after spell, their frustration building with each failed attempt. An immensely powerful Whisperer's ability is reduced to that of a nomage.
"Where is Reign?!"
Kindread tried to keep the doors of the Golden Archives shut.
Red air, like steam, flowed through the cracks in the walls. The room shook every few moments, and thunder pounded like hammers on steel anvils.
"I don't know! Protect the texts! Don't let the doors open!"
Anndrana barred herself against the door, the wood creaking from the pressure on the outside. She used strength incantations to give herself enough power to hold them shut.
"What even is this?!"
Kindread tried a new incantation every moment to see if any of the thousands of spells he had learned could repel the unrelenting red force that flowed like water through every crack in the archives.
A red mist pooled at their feet and crept up their bodies like binding vines. The two casters were alone with a few scribes, who hurriedly gathered crucial texts in the Golden Archives.
Reign had been here not even an hour ago, but now every moment felt as though fifty seasons had passed.
The red air choked Kindread, his eyes clouding like hay fever, each gasp of air more painful than the next.
"Any shield spells working?"
Anndrana grunted as she strained to hold the doors closed. She used a second strength spell to push her body to the absolute limit. Anndrana felt her power fade under the magical poison of the Red Death.
Kindread rooted Anndrana's feet to the earth to give her leverage against the door. The spells cast here destroyed the once-pristine architecture of the Golden Achieves. Now was not the time to preserve history.
It was to survive.
"No, no! Shielding spells aren't working!"
Kindread continued to cast, feeling his exhaustion mount by the moment.
A scribe approached the Whisperer, asking for guidance in this cataclysmic event.
"Sir, what do we—"
The moment the words left his mouth, fire engulfed the scribe from within. He burst into a ball of deep-red crimson flame, screaming in agony, choking on his blood.
"Gods be damned! We need to leave, Anndrana!"
Kindread shouted with terror in his eyes.
Although he had been alive for so long, he had never seen horrors such as this. He picked up the scrolls that the scribe dropped. The Red Death stained the pages. He placed them into the leather satchel that hung around his shoulder. A hand clasped against his mouth.
"I can hold it off!"
Anndrana shouted, arrogant for her young age. She strained her body to its breaking point. Her legs shook violently, and the wood screamed for release.
"Not if you die!" Kindread cast a spell to bind Anndrana and pulled her towards him. "We need to get out of here!"
Kindread turned his head, and the other scribes had also burst into flames. They were a dancing ball of fire and pain. Whatever this red mist was, it killed the weaker of their kind first.
Anndrana struggled against the might of Kindread's binding spell.
"Let me go, you bastard!"
Kindread looked solemnly at Anndrana.
"No."
He silently cast "sleep surrender", knocking her out in seconds.
"You… bastard…"
She still resisted him in her sleep, it seemed. But her skin was taking a red hue. Bloody tears fell from her eyes.
I can't lose you.
Kindread thought.
He clutched his student, Anndrana. He swore he would protect her, no matter the cost.
The last thing Kindread did was look in the direction where Reign had just gone. He worried for his safety, but Reign was one of the most, if not the most, capable Whisperer of them all.
If he couldn't make it, no one would.
"Capital City, Gilded Towers."
Kindread muttered to himself, collapsing to his knees.
He need not say the location. The red mist had fogged his brain, and he wasn't sure of his current location. A memory of a more pleasant place was the only thing that could save them.
He clutched his student tighter, and they both vanished just as the Red Death splintered the magical doors. A red fog completely engulfed the Golden Archives, leaving it an uninhabitable, cindered wasteland.