As Kaelith walked into the Obsidian Throne with Elyra, Sylvara, and Lirath, the massive black structure loomed like a crown of darkness from the night. The air inside was thick and cold, heavy with ancient, suffocating power that pressed against the skin like invisible hands. At the far end, seated on elevated thrones of gleaming black crystal that seemed to drink in all light, were the five deities of The Table.
Elyndra known as the goddess of creation, sat at the center, her glowing emerald vines pulsing with living force, curling lazily around the arms of her throne. Morvath called death, flanked her on one side, his form shrouded in shifting cold shadows that whispered torment. The others, Aureon(Order), Valthor(War), and Nyxara(Secrets), sat around them, still radiating the arrogance of those who believed they ruled above all, smug and proud, their divine presence making the very air feel heavier.
They looked down from their thrones at Kaelith and his small company and echoed in unison, their voices layered like a judgment from eternity itself: "You came, little god."
Kaelith's anger rose like a storm inside his chest, but he reined it in and spoke calmly, his voice echoing through the vast chamber with dangerous control. "Are we reaching an agreement, or do we battle it out? Either way, I'm game."
They cackled, their laughter taunting and cruel, bouncing off the black walls like breaking glass. "You still don't understand that you'll never win, Kaelith," Elyndra said, her voice dripping with mockery. "We've been around before time, before you, and will always be steps ahead of you."
Suddenly, weapons whistled through the air, spears of pure order that gleamed silvery in the light, blades of war coated in poison, and shadowy tendrils from Nyxara that twisted like living lies. They struck at the beasts and alitan puppets with on cue. Screams erupted as a fairy's wing was torn clean off in a spray of sparkling blood. A mystical beast howled as a spear impaled its side, golden ichor pouring onto the floor.
Kaelith's eyes widened in fury. His glass-blade wings snapped open wide with a crystalline ring, forming a protective shield around Elyra. The blades vibrated with power, glowing brighter as they absorbed the impact of incoming attacks. Sylvara raised her arms in a fluid motion; thick vines and wild thorns erupted violently from the ground, wrapping around the rest of their group, very alive and forming a barrier. Thorns as long as swords impaled several Blight soldiers who charged too close, their bodies jerking as dark blood mixed with divine sap.
Kaelith conjured a swirling wind void, a howling black maw of pure chaos, that swallowed the incoming weapons. The spears and blades vanished into nothingness leaving no trace. With a thunderous roar, he sent dozens of shards from his wings tearing toward Valthor and a line of Blight soldiers. The shards sliced through armor and flesh with wet, sounds, metal screaming as it parted, bodies splitting open in with blue blood liquid gushing out. One soldier's chest exploded like a fountain of flowing water; another's head rolled across the floor, eyes still wide in shock.
The Obsidian Throne quickly turned into a slaughterhouse. Divine blood, thick, and glowing, with raw, unstable energy, spread across the black crystal floors and walls, not a sight for the eyes.. Severed limbs twitched on the ground, fingers still curling around weapons. A Blight soldier's torso was ripped open from shoulder to hip, golden liquid pouring out like molten and hissing where it touched the stone. Beasts roared in agony as thorns and blades tore through hide and scale, exposing raw muscle and bone. The screams of the dying echoed off the walls in a chaotic symphony of agony, high-pitched fairy screams mixing with deep, guttural beast howls. The air reeked of ripped energies, burnt ozone, and the metallic, almost sweet tang of divine blood. The floor grew slick, making every step slippery as puddles of blood floated on the floors.
Kaelith looked around desperately, expecting Theron to charge in with the rest of their forces. There was still no sign of him.
He turned to Elyra, who was shielded inside the curve of his wings. "Where is he?"
Elyra shook her head, her voice tight with worry and regret. "He mentioned feeling sick, but I didn't think… I didn't think he would back out."
Kaelith's roar tore through the chamber like thunder. "Thhhheeeerrrrroooonnnn!"
Suddenly, the rest of their forces, led by Draven, dashed in from the flanks, fighting through the Blight Army with pure wickedness and love for the taste of blood and death. Draven carved his way forward with hatred, his blades flashing in wide, bloody arcs that severed limbs and spilled the insides of whoever neared him. He fought until he reached Kaelith's side, breathing hard, his own fur flecked with enemy blood.
"I got word from Theron that I should lead the charge," Draven said grimly. "He felt sick. Sorry I'm late."
Kaelith's eyes widened in alarm. "What do you mean? Where's Theron?"
Draven had no answer, only a grim shake of his head.
The fight continued with brutalitt. Morvath reached for Kaelith, his cold hand extending like the grasp of death itself, tendrils of snaking and curling, trailing from his fingers. Kaelith raised his void, a swirling wormhole of pure chaos that swallowed everything in its path with a deafening howl. Morvath was almost pulled in, his form distorting at the edges, but Aureon yanked him back at the last moment.
The entire place was bloody beyond measure. Floors ran slick with divine blood that glowed and hissed where it touched stone, eating away at the crystal like acid. Bodies lay torn open, chests split wide to reveal pulsing hearts of light, wings shredded into glittering fragments, but still no sign of Theron. The smell of ripped energies mixed with the heavy coppery stench of blood, creating a nauseating haze that clung to the throat and burned the lungs.
Suddenly, above them, Theron floated into view, suspended helplessly in mid-air. Elyndra's glowing emerald vines shot out like striking serpents and wrapped around him tightly. They coiled around his chest, arms, throat, and face, squeezing with vicious strength.
Elyndra's voice boomed through the throne room, mocking and triumphant. "Kaelith… oh, Kaelith… what a child you are. You never learn."