The marsh greeted them with a silence that felt wrong.
Ironwill's boots sank into the mud with a slow, sucking pull as he stepped past the last stretch of normal forest and into the drowned world ahead.
Mist clung low to the ground in pale ropes, drifting between twisted roots and stagnant pools. The air stank of rot—and something sharper, metallic, like lightning trapped in the soil.
Lira shivered. "It feels like the world died here."
"It didn't die," Nale murmured, eyes narrowed. "Something killed it."
They pressed deeper, the ground shifting from soft earth into the treacherous, wet, sloshing drag of the marsh. Broken trees leaned like toppled pillars.
Water rippled in places where nothing moved. The sky overhead was a dull gray lid, sealing in the smell of corrupted magic.
And then they found the aftermath.
Bodies—seven, maybe eight—strewn across the clearing like discarded dolls. Some wore the gray half-armor of Church scouts. Others bore the jagged tattoos and bone charms of the cult. Each corpse was bent unnaturally, as if flung by impossible force.
Huge tracks carved deep into the mud. Serpentine, ridged, and wide enough to swallow a horse hole.
Nale crouched, running a trembling hand over one. He inhaled, sharp and unsteady."That… thing was here. Minutes? No… hours. But not long."
Ironwill stepped forward and closed his eyes. He pressed his palms lightly above the mud, and faint threads of pale-blue light rippled outward, replaying the battlefield in ghostly silhouettes. Illusory figures sprang up—Cerys spinning to guard Jhalen, cultists charging, the marsh exploding upward as a monstrous form rose from the muck.
He watched Cerys forced to her knees. Watched Jhalen dragged away. Felt the echo of their fear through the spell.
"They're alive," Ironwill said. "Both of them. They didn't kill them."
Lira exhaled slowly. "Good. That means we could still save them."
Nale lifted his head suddenly, eyes narrowing deeper."I sense it… that serpent. Its aura is still… lingering." His voice cracked. "It's… wrong. Corrupted. Like something ancient drowned in poison."
Ironwill gave him a steadying hand to the shoulder, but his own gaze sharpened—focused, predatory.
Then Nale noticed something else.A smear of blood on a tree root, dragged in a single direction. Footsteps. Three different sets—lighter, staggering.
"Survivors," Nale muttered.
They followed the trail over a sinking log and under a curtain of hanging moss, until the sounds of ragged breathing reached them.
Three cultists—or soldiers, it was impossible to tell; their armor was patchy, faces burned or cut—lay tied together against a stone. Blood soaked their clothing, but their eyes were alive. Too alive. Glinting with feverish devotion.
The moment Ironwill stepped towards them, one spat at his boots."Blasphemous filth…"
The others stayed silent, lips curled in refusal even as Ironwill's patience thinned.He tried calm questioning.Then firmer questions.Then blunt force.
Still nothing.
"You're wasting breath," Lira said quietly.
Before Ironwill could answer, the marsh shifted.
Ripples spread across a distant pool. Birds exploded from the trees. A shiver of dread trickled down all their spines at once.
The cultists began laughing.
Low. Drunken. Delirious.
"He comes…" one whispered, teeth red with blood. "He comes…"
Ironwill's face hardened.
Then the marsh erupted.
A massive shape tore from the water—black scales slick with swamp filth, glowing veins of violet corruption pulsing beneath its hide.
Its jaws snapped open, wide enough to swallow a man whole, and its roar shook the tree trunks.
The corrupted serpent.
Nale froze. Lira's breath caught. Even the tied cultists laughed louder, nearly euphoric.
Ironwill stared at the beast with grim recognition.
"No one would've sent any of you to fight this," he muttered, tightening his gauntlets. "If we'd known sooner."
Lira and Nale backed away as Ironwill stepped forward, dropping his sword-staff and his pack with a thud. aura rising, the air humming.
"But I have lived long enough," he said softly, almost to himself, "to show you why I'm called the Wandering Battlemage."
Lightning gathered around his hands.
And then hell unleashed.
The serpent lunged first, a blur of black scales and snapping jaws.
Ironwill slammed his foot into the mud, spreading his stance, and thrust both palms outward.
A wall of force erupted like a rippling dome, the serpent slamming into it with a wet, bone-vibrating impact that shook the trees. Water splashed in great arcs as the beast recoiled, hissing, its violet-lit eyes narrowing.
"That thing…" Lira whispered. "It's… enormous."
"Let's," Nale breathed. "Let's make distance."
Ironwill flicked his fingers. Lightning stitched between them like threads.
"Stay back."
The serpent struck again, faster this time—its tail whipping through the air with a sound like a cracking whip. Ironwill dodged the strike by a hair's width, rolling through the muck and rising with lightning wreathing his shoulders.
He raised one hand to the stormless sky.
And a spear of lightning fell from nothingness.
It crashed down on the serpent with a deafening crack, illuminating the marsh in blinding white. Scales exploded. Steam burst from the creature's drenched body as the electricity found purchase in the water clinging to it.
The serpent screamed—loud enough that mud rippled.
But it wasn't done.
It lunged, jaws snapping. Ironwill conjured a shield again, but the beast's corrupted strength fractured it, shards of magic scattering like shattered glass.
The serpent slammed into him, knocking him back through a rotten tree. Splinters rained around him.
"Ironwill!" Lira shouted.
He stood, wiping blood from his lip."Good. Makes this interesting."
He held out one hand and dragged the moisture from the marsh itself—water rising in twisting spirals, suspended in the air.
Then he electrified it.
A storm of charged droplets lashed the serpent from every direction, each drop exploding on contact like tiny lightning mines. Scales peeled away. Chunks of corrupted flesh sizzled.
Still the serpent surged through the storm, enraged beyond sense.
Its tail snapped forward—
Ironwill caught it with both hands, boots digging trenches in the mud as he was pushed backward.
He snarled through clenched teeth."You… stubborn… bastard—!"
Lightning detonated from his arms into the serpent's tail. The shock ran up the length of the creature, causing it to convulse violently. Its body slammed into the ground, shaking the marsh again.
Ironwill lifted one hand.
The sky darkened—not from weather, but from magic thickening the air.
Raw lightning coiled above him like a summoned mayhem.
Nale whispered, terrified, awed, and unsure:"Lira… is this… normal? For a battlemage?"
"No," she said, voice cracking. "This is… something else."
Ironwill thrust his hand downward.
A thunderbolt the width of an oak crashed down, engulfing the serpent entirely.
The blast blew water, mud, and broken trees outward in a shockwave that knocked Lira and Nale to their knees.
The tied cultists screamed in delight, as if witnessing divine judgment.
Light faded.
Smoke drifted.
The serpent lay scorched, twitching once—then went still.
Ironwill exhaled and let the storm dissipate. Lightning still crawled over his arms in fading arcs.
He turned toward the survivors.
The cultists' laughter died instantly.
He approached slowly, eyes glowing faint blue, sparks rolling across his shoulders like restless insects.
"I'll give you one more chance," he said quietly. "Say anything that might make me change my mind."
They opened their mouths—
But no words came.
Ironwill raised his hand.
A thunderbolt snapped downward point-blank, turning all three to drifting ash.
Nale flinched. "Why? They could've had something useful!"
Ironwill didn't answer at first. He simply turned toward a distant tree far across the marsh.
His eyes narrowed.
Someone was there.
A far-off silhouette perched silently on a branch—watching them.
When Ironwill made eye contact, the figure froze.
Then bolted into the trees.
" Pick up his stuff." Lira said, before she and Nale instinctively darted behind Ironwill as he sprinted forward, leaving sparks behind his steps, prepared to give chase.
"Now," Ironwill murmured, storms fading around him, "we know where to go."
Their mission was no longer uncertain.
It was war.