In the wide chamber of the cavern, the Kaine party struggled to hold formation. Shields rattled under a relentless storm of crossbow bolts. Blades clashed as more face-painted fighters poured in from every angle.
Suddenly, the boulder sealing the tunnel flickered and vanished. The Sealbearer charged in alongside Eldric.
The massive stone snapped back into place behind them, trapping the group once more.
The Sealbearer lashed an arm. A blade of conjured shadow launched across the chamber, slamming into the ledge where crossbowmen perched.
The stone vanished.
Enemy archers plummeted, screaming — before the ledge reappeared intact, as if nothing had happened
The Sealbearer bellowed, his command cutting through the chaos. "Push back!"
His presence electrified the party. Shields snapped forward in unison, morale surging as they drove into the enemy with renewed ferocity.
More shadow projectiles tore across the battle — one erasing an enemy's weapon mid-swing; another displacing two fighters and punching a gap for the rangers to exploit. The Sealbearer fired with relentless precision, each strike shifting the fight in their favor.
Eldric cut down two foes, then paused as he caught sight of Benii's body lying still on the stone floor, a bolt buried in his neck. Rage flashed across the veteran's face. In that split second, a shadow projectile from the Sealbearer erased an enemy lunging from the side.
Eldric extended his blade into the empty space. The moment the vanished foe reappeared, the sword punched straight through his skull. Eldric yanked the blade free and rejoined the fray with a furious roar.
In the timeless void of Brimmah's subconscious, a low silver light pooled in a limitless sky of still clouds.
A colossal version of Brimmah hung suspended, a giant figure bound by thousands of shimmering rune-strings that stretched off into the mist like an endless web.
Nearby, a smaller, drifting Brimmah floated free, watching his larger self in panic.
The still clouds blurred. Fragments of the waking world appeared: Brimmah's body attacking the Kaine party, blades flashing, Caelis urging the others not to kill him, allies shouting his name in betrayal.
The smaller Brimmah watched, mouth opened for a soundless scream, while the giant could not move.
Desperate, Brimmah lashed out at one of the runestrings binding his larger self — with a frantic hand and snapped it.
The broken cord unraveled — only to burst into dozens of finer strings that coiled even tighter around the giant.
The clouds shifted again. Now, memories surfaced.
First, the barren hillside from years ago: himself staggering forward with a massive stone slab lashed to his back, each breath a ragged rasp, sword in hand. Step after step, he swung, the blade cutting clumsy arcs at first. Then sharper, faster, each motion honed against the crushing burden.
Then the tournament arena: torches guttering, crowd gone silent. He and his opponent had been fighting for what felt like an eternity. Both were beaten bloody, chests heaving, barely standing. His sword was broken in half, yet he still blocked a heavy swing. The opponent drove an elbow into his face — a blow that should have felled him. He staggered but remained on his feet. Frustration twisted his opponent's face, who swung again with everything left — but collapsed halfway, unable to rise. The crowd remained quiet in disbelief. Barely standing, he glanced up at the carved dais where King Leonhart watched attentively. The memory burned and collapsed back into cloud.
Finally, the throne room: Queen Abigail sitting in judgment. Disdainful faces in the audience of Councilmen, but his gaze remained fixed on Satorii as she alone defended him. She paused from addressing the Queen, then turned toward him. Her voice carried directly to him through the clouds — beyond the memory.
"Will you give up now?" Satorii asked, quietly but fierce. "After everything you have bled for?"
The memories shattered.
Brimmah hurled himself at the web of runestrings binding his giant self — once again. He snapped one, then another.
Each time, a broken string splintered only to multiply manifold — the bindings seemed to feed on his effort. Yet still he continued.
Faster.
Harder.
The motion shifted from frantic to methodical. Relentless until the bindings couldn't keep up.
Runestrings snapped, sparks scattered, the clouds shuddered.