April 1, 2025.
Location: Fairy Sanctum, 15 miles west of Doras Dagda, Scottish Highlands.
The Fairy Queen rose from her throne, her dragonfly-like wings spreading wide with a flash of dazzling, menacing light. Colors spilled from her wings, rainbow hues dancing over the stone, masking the pressure that radiated from her. Her gaze swept over them, cold and disdainful, carved into her sharp, cruel face. "You dare intrude upon my domain, giants? You foul my home, trample my halls, and expect to leave unscathed?" Her voice, melodic but biting, echoed through the throne room, each word stabbing into Robert's skull like a needle.
The air thickened, suffocating, as her magic pressed against them. A tingling chill stung Robert's sinuses, the temperature dropping until their breaths misted in the cold. The stone floor grew slick beneath his boots, and a suffocating weight rolled through his chest, thick with malice, daring him to falter. Robert stepped forward and raised his hands to summon a Wind Barrier, its faint shimmer glowing in the heavy air. "We're not here to destroy your home," he said, keeping his voice calm but firm. "We need the Sanctum's core. Stand down, and we avoid bloodshed."
The Queen's laugh cut through the air, sharp and icy, bouncing off the vaulted ceiling. "Bloodshed? You speak as if you understand it. Let's see how your arrogance fares against true power." She lifted her hand, and the air split apart. Dark tendrils poured out like living smoke, and spectral warriors took shape, their forms hazy but solid enough to wield gleaming blades and claws filled with malice.
Her presence cracked the air, warping pressure and sound as she unleashed a surge of dark energy toward them. "Move!" Robert shouted, diving aside as the blast shattered his Wind Barrier. Wind shards scattered across the throne room, and stone dust stung his eyes, the force jarring his bones.
Hamish charged forward with his twin short swords drawn, chosen for their precision in the tight space. He swung at a spectral warrior, his blades cutting through, but the figure reformed with each strike. Its hiss sent a chill down Robert's spine. Hamish gritted his teeth and infused his swords with radiant light. His next slash dissolved the warrior with a piercing shriek, its essence fading into the air. "Keep at 'em!" he growled, sweat beading on his brow, his eyes fierce with focus.
Snow lifted her staff, and an icy dome flared up to shield her and Langston, its surface glinting like frost. "These shadows are relentless," she muttered, her voice tense as she hurled jagged ice spikes at the Queen. Her staff glowed softly, but the spikes shattered inches from their target, blocked by an invisible barrier. Fragments clinked as they hit the floor.
Chaucer weaved through the chaos, his small frame dodging attacks like a ghost. He jumped onto a warrior's back and drove his blade into its core. The creature dissolved with a hiss, and Chaucer landed lightly. "I've faced deadlier shades in tavern brawls!" he sneered, his voice cool and sharp, his boots scuffing the stone as he taunted the shadows.
"Focus, Chaucer!" Robert snapped, summoning a volley of Light Missiles. The glowing projectiles fanned out, striking multiple shadows and lighting the room, giving Hamish a moment to catch his breath.
Langston crouched behind Snow's dome, tweaking a gadget with quick fingers despite the chaos. "This could use refinement," he muttered, then tossed it into the fray. A blinding flash erupted, disrupting the Queen's focus and making the shadows falter. Robert saw Langston's eyes narrow with sharp focus, a shift from his usual doubt, his breath quick in the cold air.
The Queen's composure slipped, her eyes narrowing, wings twitching with barely contained rage. She gestured, and a massive shadowy construct took shape, its huge wings spreading wide. It roared, shaking dust from the ceiling, the sound rattling Robert's teeth. "Hit it hard!" Robert shouted, summoning a gust through his Wind Barrier to push it back. The wind howled through the chamber, but the construct stood firm.
Snow sent ice shards flying, their edges catching the light, but the construct absorbed them without flinching, its claws scraping the stone floor. Hamish charged in, his blades glowing with radiant light. He slashed at the creature's legs, the strikes searing bright, but a sweeping claw knocked him back. The air blasted from his lungs as his back slammed into the stone.
Snow's magic cushioned his fall, her staff flaring as frost curled around her hands. Chaucer leapt onto the construct's back, stabbing at its spine. "Hold still, lumbering oaf!" he barked, dodging a claw swipe that tore his cloak slightly.
Robert channeled a Radiant Spear, the energy warming his hands, steadying his focus. He took a deep breath and hurled it at the construct's core. The spear pierced through, blasting a hole straight through its center. The explosion rang in their ears as the creature broke apart, its pieces crumbling to the floor. The Queen's face turned cold, her disdain sharp. "Impressive," she said, her voice cutting through the silence. "But you're far from victorious."
She unleashed a dark pulse that knocked them off their feet, the stone cold against Robert's back. As they scrambled to stand, she stepped into a swirling vortex of magic, her form vanishing into the shadows.
Robert's Insightful Vision caught a ripple of mana as she disappeared, and the world shifted. The Sanctum's magic shrank them to her scale, making the throne room's pillars tower like ancient trees. The air felt heavier, the rules bending around them. Robert steadied his breath, gripping his shillelagh, ready for what came next.
The room fell silent, their breaths ragged, the cold air biting Robert's lungs. He pushed to his feet, checking his team. Their faces showed strain, but they were holding up. "Is everyone okay?" he asked.
Hamish grunted, dusting himself off, his swords clinking softly. "Still kickin'. Barely."
Snow nodded, her staff glowing faintly as she healed Chaucer's burns. Her fingers trembled from the effort, frost clinging to her cloak. "I'm fine," she said, her voice steady but tired.
Chaucer grinned through the pain, his eyes glinting like polished steel. "A fine scrap, that," he rasped, his tail brushing the stone. "Could use a pint after this."
Langston stood, gripping his taser, his face pale but resolute. The gadget crackled faintly in the quiet. "She's gone, but for how long? This dark magic's worth fighting," he said, his voice edged with defiance, like he was back in an alley brawl from months ago.
Robert met his gaze, the throne's shadow looming over them. "That flashbang was brilliant, Langston. Well done."
Langston shrugged, eyeing the ornate throne, its carvings catching the light. "Didn't expect you lot to fight magical abominations. I can get behind that." His words left a bitter taste in Robert's mouth.
"Not all magic's evil," Robert said firmly. "When a terrorist threatens a city with bombs, is science to blame? Good magic stops bad, just like good people stop bad ones."
Chaucer nodded. "Yah, we'd be dead now if it weren't for Robert. This Sanctum and half a dozen others would be overrunning the world! If they haven't already." He paused, then added, "I thought you were smart."
Langston sorted his satchel, tools clinking, then wiggled his taser at Chaucer. "Muh. Hey, Chaucer, come here. I want to show you something."
Chaucer stepped forward curiously, but Hamish's hand stopped him, firm on his chest. "Not a ballad you want, poet."
Langston snickered, ducking behind a column, his footsteps echoing. The air crackled, the Sanctum's shrinking spell making shadows loom larger, the ceiling impossibly high.
A shrill whistle broke the silence, and their wings buzzed, shrill and relentless, announcing an army of fae warriors in gleaming, organic armor that shifted in the dim light. Their tiny enchanted weapons glowed with menace, sharper at their new scale, catching the torchlight.
Snow's staff flickered, her face pale as she glanced at the approaching army. "Robert, they seem bigger," she murmured, her voice unsteady, her breath visible in the cold.
Robert nodded, the throne room's vastness pressing down, confirming the Sanctum's trick. Hamish's lips curled into a scowl, his swords glinting as he shifted his stance. "Tch. They think making us smaller evens the odds. They've got another thing coming."
The fae surged forward, their glowing blades flashing, magic coursing through their ranks. Snow thrust her staff forward, a torrent roaring out from her, flooding the throne room's lower levels. The water forced many fae to take flight, their weapons clattering to the stone floor with sharp pings.
"Good call, Snow! Keep them off balance," Robert said, deflecting spells with a Wind Barrier, the air howling around him.
Hamish charged into the fray, his twin short swords moving with precision. He parried incoming strikes, his boots grinding on the wet stone. A fae warrior lunged at him, but Hamish twisted and swung his blade upward, sending the attacker sprawling. He followed with a scissor strike, cutting down two more with brutal efficiency, their armor clinking as they fell.
Chaucer darted through the melee, his small form nearly impossible to track. He leaped onto a fae archer's back, stabbing its shoulder, then flipped off, landing with a flourish, his cloak billowing. "Your arrows fly straighter than your wit, witless twig!" he taunted, ducking another strike and vanishing into the chaos.
Langston weaved between columns, staying just out of reach. He jabbed his taser into a fairy's side, the jolt sending it twitching to the floor. His smirk flashed in the torchlight. "Langston!" Robert called, deflecting more spells with his Wind Barrier, his arms straining. "Quit playing around and stick with the group!"
Langston barely glanced back, still smirking. "Playing? This is tactical genius, digsite guy!" He shocked another fairy, its yelp echoing, then ducked behind a pillar.
Snow, visibly tired, raised another wave of water, crashing into the advancing fae. Her hands shook as she downed a mana potion, its glass clinking softly. "There are too many," she murmured, her voice strained, her cloak soaked.
Robert felt the same pressure, his chest tight from the Sanctum's magic. He summoned a volley of Light Missiles, each splitting midair to hit a different fairy. The impacts lit the room, scattering fae and giving them a moment to breathe. The air smelled of ozone and damp stone, his pulse steadying.
A louder whistle stopped the fae, and they parted for a tall, dark-skinned General in ceremonial armor, its designs shimmering. His blade, nearly as long as he was tall, pulsed with raw power, casting long shadows. His gaze silenced the room, his voice heavy. "Enough of this. Trespassers defile our sacred halls. I will not allow it." He pointed his blade at Hamish. "Swordsman, you've impressed me. I challenge you to a duel."
Hamish grinned, sharp and dangerous, his enchanted swords pulsing red, their crystalline edges gleaming. "I don't back down."
Snow grabbed his arm, her eyes wide with worry. "Hamish, it's a trap. He's trying to isolate you."
Hamish shrugged her off gently, his voice rough but warm. "Aye, lass, maybe. But I've got pride. No runt's superior to me." He stepped forward, blades ready, boots steady on the slick stone.
The duel began with steel clashing, sparks flying as the General's blade met Hamish's swords. Each blow was precise, the General's movements swift and deadly, a blur of skill. Hamish's footwork was steady, but the General pressed harder, his strikes fast and heavy, the air humming with their clash.
The fae watched, wings still, the tension thick. The General feinted, drawing Hamish into a strike that left his thigh open. The General's blade slashed deep, blood soaking Hamish's pants as he stumbled, his grunt sharp with pain.
"Hamish!" Snow cried, holding her ground, her staff trembling. Hamish gritted his teeth, steadying himself, blood dripping onto the stone. "Nice trick," he growled, his voice tight. "But I've got one of my own."
He surged forward, feinting a stumble, his swords flashing. The General lunged for the kill, but Hamish crossed his blades in a scissor motion, twisting the General's weapon away. With a brutal strike, he severed the General's head, the body collapsing with a dull thud. The fae army gasped, their morale breaking, wings faltering.
Snow rushed to Hamish, pulling out her staff and a healing potion, its liquid glinting. "Sit down before you bleed out," she scolded, her hands glowing with magic, frost curling around her fingers as she mended his flesh.
Hamish smirked weakly, sitting heavily. "Aye, lass. You've earned the right to boss me around. Fix me up quick. I've got more fight in me."
Snow's magic worked fast, her face tight with focus as she healed the wound, her breath misting in the cold. "You're lucky he didn't take your leg off," she muttered, stern but soft, pouring potion over the gash.
Hamish winced, glancing at the General's body, his lips twitching into a victorious smirk. "Aye, he won't be taking anything from anyone."
Chaucer peered from behind a shattered wall, brushing soot from his coat. "Masterstroke of carnage, though the head-roll was messy."
Hamish shot him a look, sharp but amused. "Next time, rat, you duel."
Chaucer straightened, dusting his sleeves, his tail flicking. "I'd rather weave the saga than swing the steel, old man."
Langston folded his arms, his face unreadable, standing back. "You all realize this isn't over, right? These fae won't quit over one flashy warrior."
Robert nodded, scanning the disorganized fae, their eyes a mix of fear and defiance, weapons still gleaming. "He's right," he said grimly, his shillelagh heavy in his hand. "They've lost their leader, but the Queen's the head of the snake. If we don't deal with her, they'll regroup."
Hamish tested his leg, standing despite Snow's protests, his swords clinking. "Then let's finish it."
The room trembled, a pulse of magic rippling like a silent scream, torches dimming. A chilling presence settled, heavy with malice. "She's coming back," Robert said, his voice low, gripping his shillelagh tighter.
Snow rose, her staff glowing faintly, her face pale but resolute. Chaucer muttered, "Time for the final verse," drawing his daggers, his tail flicking, burns still raw on his shoulder.
Langston checked his taser, adjusting his bag, his mouth set in a grim line, hands steady. The throne room's stained-glass windows shattered outward, enchanted shards falling like deadly rain, their colors flashing across the stone.
The Queen's voice echoed, sharp and venomous. "You dare murder my subjects in my throne room? Prepare yourselves!"
The Fairy Queen's form changed, her robes snapped in a wind thick with malice. Her eyes glowed red, burning with unrelenting fury, cutting into them like a blade. She pulsed with dark energy, wrapped in a haze of black light that bent the torchlight into jagged streaks. Even the air seemed to flinch as she let out a guttural growl that echoed through the chamber. "You dare desecrate my Sanctum? Your arrogance is your undoing."
Robert glanced at his team, their faces set in the flickering torchlight. Hamish tightened his grip on his swords, blood still staining his pants. Snow steadied herself, her staff glowing faintly, her cloak damp from her spells. Chaucer crouched low, favoring his bruised shoulder, scanning the Queen for weaknesses, his daggers glinting. Langston held his taser, a slight tremor in his hand, but his eyes were hard.
Her fury slammed into them, raw and elemental, as she lunged forward with a screech that rang in Robert's ears, a blur of black and red, her claws slashing the air. Robert raised a Wind Barrier, her attack pushing him back across the stone, his sinuses stinging from her magic, his boots scraping.
Hamish charged with a roar, his blades flashing, steel arcing as he closed the gap, aiming for her midsection. She deflected with startling speed, her claws sparking against his steel. She twisted midair and landed a spinning kick that sent him sprawling. He hit the floor with a grunt and rolled to his feet.
Snow lifted her staff, summoning a wave of water that surged toward the Queen, its roar filling the chamber. The water hit hard, pushing her back, splashing across the stone, but the Queen countered with a dark pulse. It slammed Snow into a wall with a sickening thud, her staff clattering beside her.
"Snow!" Robert shouted, his heart lurching, but he couldn't look away as the Queen's wrath bore down.
Robert fired a barrage of Light Missiles, dozens splitting midair to hit her from all angles. A scream ripped from her as light seared her flesh, scorch marks crossing her body, but she stood firm, raising her hands. Dark tendrils rose from the ground, snaking toward Robert with terrifying speed. He spun his shillelagh, channeling a Wind Barrier to deflect them, but one caught his ankle, yanking him down. The air blasted from his lungs as his back slammed into the stone.
Langston darted forward, taser crackling, and jabbed a tendril, freeing Robert with a sharp buzz of electricity. The Queen's gaze snapped to him, her expression deadly.
"You insignificant worm," she hissed, her voice like nails on glass, wings flaring.
Langston froze, his bravado fading, but Chaucer leapt from the shadows, his small form a blur. He drove a dagger into her arm. "Take that, shadow-spawned harpy!" he snarled, his tone icy. Her screech pierced the air as she swatted at him.
Chaucer dodged, but a blast of shadowy energy grazed him, his hiss of pain sharp as he retreated behind a fallen column, nursing burns on his fur. "Keep her busy!" Robert shouted, pushing to his feet, legs aching. He channeled magic into the ground, summoning Vine Snare. Thick greenery wrapped the Queen's legs briefly.
She sliced through the vines, the brittle crack echoing. Hamish bellowed, charging again, his blades flashing. He feinted left, drawing her attention, then struck from the right, his swords cutting into her side. Her furious screech shook the air.
Robert joined him, his shillelagh glowing with light, swinging in a wide arc. The magic's glow disoriented her for a moment, and Hamish landed another strike, his blades sparking, blood and sweat mixing on his face. Langston, emboldened, threw a makeshift flashbang cobbled from his satchel, overloading his taser in a bright burst.
The light and sound exploded, the Queen reeling, her screeches filling the chamber, the air thick with ozone. "Now, Chaucer!" Robert shouted, gesturing to his daggers, imbuing them with a double light spell through Aetheric Weaving, their radiance flaring.
Chaucer launched from the rafters, a streak of glowing fury, his small form precise. The Queen, disoriented, didn't see him until it was too late. He landed on her back, driving his dagger deep into the shadowy mass where her heart should have been, nearly cleaving her in two between her wings. She froze, wings faltering, the chamber silent. With a final, ear-splitting shriek, she collapsed, her body dissolving into a cloud of dark mist that faded away.
Chaucer landed, panting, clutching his injured side, burns raw on his fur. "A fine end to a wretched tale," he rasped, his voice cool despite exhaustion, daggers still glowing.
Hamish limped over, clapping a heavy hand on his shoulder, his own wounds seeping. "Good work, rat. You earned that one."
Robert knelt by the Queen's remains, the air heavy with fading magic. He used Essence Refinement to extract her essence, a dark, radiant wisp pulsing with power, warm in his hands. With Essence Harmony, he shaped it into a Shadowthorn Staff, its ebony shaft veined with glowing red runes, thrumming with dark and radiant energy, casting faint shadows on the stone. He could've infused his shillelagh for shadow strikes, but this staff's potential needed study. He stored it with their loot, the runes' glow lingering in his vision, then hurried to Snow, who stirred weakly.
"You okay?" Robert asked, helping her sit up, channeling gentle light to steady her, her cloak damp against his hands.
She nodded, pale, her breath shallow. "Did we win?" Her voice echoed a line from Rat Race, a flick from another life.
Langston joined them, rubbing his head where he'd hit the wall, his taser humming faintly. "So, is it over?" he asked, his tone uncertain, eyes scanning the chamber.
"Seems so," Robert said, glancing around, the air still heavy with the Sanctum's magic.
As the dark mist cleared, the Queen's treasures appeared from nowhere, gold and silver coins gleaming beside orichalcum bars, fist-sized jewels sparkling, uncut jade pillars framing enchanted weapons, their steel clinking softly in the quiet.
They stumbled toward the hoard, the five of them encircling the wealth, their boots echoing on the stone. Torchlight glared off the gold, blinding after the dark. Robert caught his breath, the weight of their victory settling in, the cold air sharp in his lungs.
Then he saw it—wrong shape, wrong glow. It didn't belong. A sharp pop broke the silence, an enchantment shattering, like glass crunching underfoot.
Moira's voice screamed through Robert's mind. "Robert! Where are you? Answer me!" He winced, covering his ears. Hamish and Snow flinched too, their faces twisting in pain, while Chaucer and Langston looked confused. Moira's fear was raw, her voice desperate. Snow began explaining their battle to her, her voice steady despite exhaustion, faint against the chamber's vastness.
Robert tried to respond, but his focus kept pulling to the impossible object in the treasure pile, unnoticed by the others, its presence a riddle in the torchlight.